If he wanted to prove worthy of the badge, then he needed to start acting like it. And that did not include spending the next two weeks flirting with a pretty party planner on company time. So he’d driven right past Parties to Go-Go, and all the way into Napa to the party store there, where he asked a lovely saleslady in her sixties for help. She’d directed him to the party themes book, and that’s when the panic had started.
He didn’t know a centerpiece from a sash, had not a clue as to what kind of kid-friendly activities to plan. Should they match the theme? Were water guns a bad choice?
As a kid, he’d never missed Beat the Heat, yet he couldn’t remember a single thing about it except when the firefighters pulled the engine out to the middle of Main Street and threw the ladder, then picked a lucky awestruck kid from the crowd to climb it.
One year, when Adam had just turned seven, he’d been that lucky kid. And it had rocked his little world. At the first rung he’d been hooked. Not much had changed—firefighting was his life, and his days were still spent hanging around the engine. Only instead of watching from the sidelines, he was the one who got to run the show and rock some kid’s world.
“How about a fireman theme?” he said, flipping to the back of the book to where the kid-themed parties were. “We can swear in little honorary firefighters, give them a plastic hat and sticker badge.”
“You mean like what we do with the school kids during their fieldtrips to the station?” Seth said.
“I see your point.” He was so screwed. “Okay, tailgate it is.”
Adam grabbed a cart full of red plates, cups, and matching paper napkins. If he couldn’t do fire hats, at least the color would be firefighter approved.
Seth and Adam loaded up the rig and headed back toward town. He hit Send on his Bluetooth and called his sister.
“I’m busy,” Frankie said in greeting.
“Then I’ll make it quick,” Adam said. “I’m heading up Beat the Heat and was hoping you and Nate would donate the wine this year.”
“Even if we weren’t sold out for the next decade, you couldn’t afford me.”
The stress of the day settled behind his eyes. He’d assumed as much. After his sister’s Red Steel was crowned Cork King a few years back, which was pretty much like the Oscars of wine, her label had become one of the most sought-after in wine country. Which meant he needed to contact another winery.
Not that his family didn’t own a bunch, it was just Adam had never really been a part of the family business. Hell, he didn’t even like wine—he was more of a beer kind of guy—so sniffing around for handouts always felt wrong.
“How about donating a bottle or two then for the raffle?” he asked. “And asking Grandpa to provide the wine for the event?”
Frankie was quiet for a long moment. “I’ll donate a case for the raffle and ask Nate if DeLuca Vineyards is interested, but it will cost you.”
“Jesus, Frankie. If you could pull that off, I’d do anything.”
And he meant it. Owing Frankie was like owing the mob—if you didn’t pay up, she’d come after you with a bat. But walking into the meeting with the caterer and wine locked down?
Totally worth it.
“Nate and I are going away for a few days and we need you to come and stay with the alpacas.”
“I meant anything but that,” Adam said, his nuts already turning in on themselves. “You know that Mittens hates other men in his space. And the little one always goes after my boys.”
“He’s just sniffing you out. It’s all normal male behavior one would find at a sporting event or bar,” Frankie said. “And that’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
Adam weighed his options, and they weren’t good. Impressing Lowen or pissing off Frankie. He blew out a breath. “Fine, just let me know when and I’ll check my work schedule.”
Adam hung up and prayed he’d find himself stuck with overtime.
Half an hour later, he pulled into the engine bay to find that either he was late or Chief Lowen was early. Adam glanced at his watch. “Shit. Lowen is early.”
“And he’s talking to that sexy sweater set chick,” Seth said.
Adam paused from grabbing the bag off the floorboard to peer through the windshield and nearly choked. Because Lowen was indeed talking to a sexy chick, but she wasn’t wearing a sweater set. At least not today.
Nope, everyone’s best friend, Harper, was holding court with his boss and crew, decked out in a flowy sundress that hugged her curves and flirted around her thighs. It was soft yellow with little white flowers and exactly zero straps, leaving her silky shoulders completely bare, and him begging the question of exactly what she had on beneath.