“Gotta go to the station,” he said, gathering his things. “Daugherty’s wife isn’t feeling well, his kid’s got the flu, and he needs someone to fill in until his mother-in-law can get here from the city and play house nurse.”
And since Adam had no wife, no kid, and no good reason to ever turn down overtime, he had become the official go-to guy when it came to covering shifts. Normally it didn’t bug him, that was how it worked, but for some reason this time it caused a weird tension to build behind his shoulders.
“What about these?” Jonah held up a stack of forms.
Shit. He was supposed to be at the station anyway to hand out forms to vendors and answer any questions. “Can you cover Beat the Heat duties for me until Seth gets here around three?” he asked Dax.
Rolling up the map, Adam headed for the door and decided it was a good thing, because going to the station meant not going to see Harper about logistical problems—or anything else, no matter how epic it might be.
“You bet, as long as you drop Violet off at class on the way,” Dax said, and before Adam could ask what class, a three-foot-tall girl in Converse and pigtails ran out from the lunchroom and climbed in Dax’s lap.
And Adam got a really bad feeling. Violet Blake, Emerson’s kid sister, was six years old, and could literally blind you with her sweetness. She was also a damn fine artist when it came to glitter.
“What class do you have today?” Adam asked.
“Sprouting Picasso,” Violet said, swinging her legs contently as though she hadn’t just complicated everything.
Not a big deal, he thought, assessing the possible outcomes. “I can walk you to the door and watch you go inside, but then I have to get to the station.”
Violet jumped off Dax’s lap, then ran over to wrap her little arms around his middle. “That’s where I’m going! On a field trip to the fire station to see real heroes in action for our project, like Miss H promised!” she squealed, confirming that, yeah, he was totally screwed.
I thought your hose would be bigger.”
Harper smothered a laugh as Tommy walked over to the deflated fire hose and nudged it with one of his shoes, which were “the Flash” themed, blinked red when he stepped, and hadn’t stopped moving since arriving at the station. Neither had Harper’s heart.
She had barely gotten two words out to her students about being on their best behavior—and not touching any red buttons—when their tour guide had emerged from the kitchen. It wasn’t Daugherty, the nearing-fifty father of seven who had a handlebar mustache and a keg in his belly.
Nope, their tour guide was over six feet of hard-won muscle and charm, wearing yesterday’s scruff, delicious SHFD work blues, and enough testosterone to melt the sun. And just as unexpected as Adam’s appearance was his date for the day.
Adam strode in holding hands with a travel-sized cutie, dressed in pink, pink, and more pink, who looked up at him with total and complete awe in her eyes. Violet wasn’t the only one mesmerized. Adam had charmed every person in that room—parents included—with a single smile.
Everyone except Tommy, who had his hands in his pockets and his eyes firmly affixed to Adam’s awaiting the correct answer, like he had for the last ten thousand questions he’d already asked.
Adam hunched down a little, putting his hands on his knees and getting eye level with Tommy. Harper noticed he did that a lot, talked to the kids instead of at the kids. “We rolled it out so you guys could lift it and see what it feels like. Want to hold the nozzle, buddy?”
“I want to see it big, like how Red’s is on Cars.”
“When that hose is hooked up to water and cranked to full pressure, it gets so heavy it takes three of those guys just to control it,” Adam said, pointing to Sam Lopez, a firefighter who Harper had gone to high school with. Sam was good-looking, built like a tank, and lived to make people laugh.
He flexed his muscles and the kids oohed, beyond impressed.
All except, Tommy, who stuck his hand in the air, even though he was already standing. William made a sound that translated into Tommy being the most annoying person on the planet. The rest of the kids were not quite as vocal in their irritation, but Tommy got the point all the same. They wanted to get to the fun stuff, like sliding down the pole, climbing in the engines, checking out what kind of candy was in the vending machines—and he was prolonging their lesson.
Tommy shoved his hands in his pockets, and Harper could almost see the internal debate play out between pleasing his curiosity and pleasing his peers. For a kid who had an IQ of Shut the Front Door and a twenty-thousand-questions-a-second brain, it was a hard decision. So when he looked to Harper for help, she smiled softly and said, “Why don’t you take your seat and let Fireman Baudouin finish his demonstration? There will be time for questions at the end.”