“Yeah, you going to be putting up that big ladder tomorrow?” Nora asked. “If so, I’ll bring my camera so I can get a picture for the ladies in my extreme couponing club. A snap of your backside is worth three triple-points coupons.”
Blaming the warm weather for the heat climbing up his neck, Adam looked back at his guys, and he knew what he had to do, finally understanding the right way to lead. “This year we’re switching it up a little too. McGuire and Seth will be running the ladder demo and have the honor of picking out our little firefighters. So make sure you come by, and have your cameras ready.”
He watched as his guys took control and started doling out booth numbers. It didn’t take long for the one vendor he’d been waiting to talk with to make her way forward, and when she did it was as if the air suddenly turned electric. And his pulse picked up a few notches, because seeing her in that pretty summer dress with her hair piled high in some fancy knot on top of her head had him thanking God that today was his last day at the station. Come tomorrow, he’d have the next three off. Granted, he’d be working Beat the Heat, but he’d be working it with Harper. Exploring more of those benefits they seemed to be enjoying so much.
“That was a very lieutenantly thing you just did,” Harper said sweetly, handing him her registration form and one hell of a punch to the gut. Because her dress wasn’t just pretty, it was incredible. Tight where it should be tight, flowy enough to have his mind wandering, and the same color as her eyes. Electric blue.
And don’t even get him started on the heels. Black and high and designed to make men think about sex. The woman, though? She was designed to make men think about other things. Things that made his chest feel warm and full.
Over the past few weeks she’d somewhat muffled her quirky side to make room for her sexy and flirty one. The funny thing was, he liked both sides. Hell, he liked pretty much everything about Harper.
“Working with the kids had a big impact on me. I figure it might have the same on them,” he said, wanting to kiss her. He could tell she was open to the idea because her eyes were dilated and he could see her pulse beat at the base of her neck. So he did.
Right there in front of jury and witness. And Nora Kincaid, who had her camera phone aimed on them snapping away. So he kept it PG, okay maybe PG-13 since it lingered long enough to leave a mark—and elicit a handful of hoots and catcalls.
“What was that for?” Harper breathed when he pulled back.
“For walking in like a ray of sunshine and making my day brighter,” he said, and had this been any other guy with any other woman, Adam would have gagged. But this was Harper, and he meant every word of it.
“Thanks to you it’s an amazing day, so I thought I’d share the excitement,” she said, looking up at him with hero worship in her eyes. He tried to harden himself against the way it felt to be looked at like that by a woman like her. But one blink of those big doe eyes and a different part altogether hardened. “Chantel called yesterday.”
“And?” He didn’t have to ask what was said—he could see the genuine pride in her eyes, and good for her. She deserved to be recognized. She was smart, talented, and one hell of a special woman.
“And she loved the photos so much that she’s bringing her boss here to see the shop on Monday. To meet me and you. And hopefully sign a contract.”
“Harper”—he pulled her in for a hug—“that’s great. And well deserved.”
She looked up. “Then you’ll come on Monday? To the shop?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” In fact, if they stuck to the agreed-upon plan, it would be their last day together as a couple. Something that should have instilled relief, not more confusion. “We should celebrate tonight.”
She looked at his uniform. “Aren’t you working?”
Adam gripped the back of his neck and groaned. This was one of the reasons he didn’t do relationships. He’d seen too many guys try to balance the job and family, missing anniversaries, first steps, all the important stuff in order to handle all the life-and-death stuff. The other reason, if he was being honest, was fear of failing.
Not himself, but others.
Adam knew that everyone experienced failure. It was a part of life. Only Adam never failed the small stuff. It was the moments that really mattered, the times someone was counting on him to pull through, the big shit that he always managed to drop the proverbial ball.
He’d done it with his family, with his team . . . with Trent. Even with every warning sign waving clear as fucking day, he’d still managed to make the wrong call.