Linc started to sweat. “He’s a kid. And he set a sweet potato on fire.”
Very smooth.
“Scott! Vasquez! Lindsey!”
Saved by the chief.
“Gotta go.” Sharon snagged a second sour cream glaze and scurried away.
The three of them turned as the SFD’s chief strode across the bay.
“Yes, sir,” Brian said around a mouthful of donut.
The chief glared at him before sighing heavily. “You three are officially our community-giving committee.”
“Our what?” Linc said.
The chief’s eyes narrowed. “Community giving.” Each syllable was pronounced so slowly, Linc could practically hear the individual letters.
Brian and Vasquez both started speaking at the same time.
“Chief, I can’t. You know I’m busy.”
“I’m the worst possible person you could ask to—”
“Jess and the babies, they—”
“And frankly, I’m a little offended—”
“The heartburn, you don’t even know—”
“Are you asking because I’m a woman? Because that’s—”
“And the baby brain. Yesterday, I found her keys in the front door. She—”
The chief held up a hand. “This is not a democracy. Lindsey, your wife isn’t due for another month. Vasquez, it is not because you’re a woman, it’s because you were standing here when I came looking for volunteers.”
“But I didn’t—” Vasquez started.
“Not a democracy.” The chief’s icy blue eyes landed on the box of donuts.
“Chief?” Linc said carefully.
“What?” He pinched a honey glaze between his fingers like the pastry was personally offensive.
“What exactly does the community-giving committee do?”
“Oh.” The chief wiped his hand on his shirt and pulled a printed page out of his back pocket. “I got this request from the Seacroft Activator League.”
“The what?” Did Seacroft have superheroes?
“They’re one of those do-good charitable organizations that raise money and then give it to local groups. Mostly women with hearts of gold. They ask for donations. Run events. You know, fundraisers.”
“My brother is the League secretary.” Brian puffed out his chest. Vasquez snorted, and Linc suppressed his grin as he imagined another Brian, probably in a cape and a mask to hide his identity, studiously taking notes.
The chief glared at them all, and Linc buried his smile.
“And you want Scott, Brian, and me to organize something?” Vasquez asked.
