Page 16 of Airhead

“So,” she said with a sigh, “if we have it at Marinos, we can bring in a podium and set it up on the stage.” She started writing a to-do list in her notebook. “We can curtain off the dart boards. Maybe put some table tops over the pool table for the buffet?”

Frank’s mouth curled up into the grin as he leaned forward with his arms on the table. “You’re a natural born problem solver.”

“Stop flirting.” She kept her gaze firmly on her list and not on Frank’s muscular forearms. She wasn’t interested. Didn’t care. Was unenthralled. “I’m immune.”

“It’s not flirting if it’s the truth,” he said, all cocky confidence, “and we both know you’re not immune to me.”

Yeah, Frank had the reputation of being an airhead, but all a person had to do was spend some time with him to know that wasn’t the case. He might not be book smart, but that wasn’t the only kind of smart that mattered in the world. Still, he couldn’t be more off base with this. She might think about him when she got off—fine she did think of him when she got off—but that didn’t mean she was taken in by him.

“What makes you think that—” she asked, adding quickly, “because it’s wrong.”

The grin didn’t falter, but it changed. If anyone asked her to describe the difference, she wasn’t sure if she could, but it made her mouth go dry and her heart speed up. Everything inside her that had been settled and sure got all loosey-goosey. It was like being on a rollercoaster when it stops at the top of the first big loop-de-loop and you know what’s coming but you don’t at the same time.

“Well first,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “there’s the way your cheeks get all flushed, which means your pulse kicked up.”

“My pulse is perfectly normal right now.” As long as it was normal to have a rocket-fuel-juiced heart rhythm.

He lifted a brow. “Really?”

In too far to give in now, she lifted her chin a few degrees and looked him dead in the eyes. “Really.”

He made an uh-huh sound under his breath as he reached for her, wrapping his fingers around her wrist before she could react. Resting his fingertips on her pulse point, he watched her, daring her to move. As if she could—not when every nerve in her body was suddenly on high alert, waiting, wanting, needing something more than this barely there touch.

“I’m a trained EMT you know,” he said, his voice more strained than it had been before, “and I can tell your heart rate is elevated.”

Fighting to keep her shit together, she managed to get out, “I had a Tab in the teacher’s lounge before driving over.”

It was true—but not the whole truth.

He shook his head, released her wrist, and tried to take a drink from the Orange Julius he’d finished minutes ago. “I’d have to gather my courage before riding in that death trap of yours too.”

“It’s not that bad,” she said, offended on her car’s behalf.

“Your tires are almost as bald as my Uncle Pete.”

“I’ll change them out before it starts snowing.” Or when her paychecks magically got bigger. “I’m just saving up. But my tires aren’t what we’re discussing.”

“Right.” He nodded, the grin reappearing. “We’re talking about how much you like me, despite not wanting to.”

“We are talking about Fitz’s retirement party,” she said, using the tone that always worked with her third graders. “I’m putting you in charge of getting the tops to cover the pool tables and something to put in front of the dart boards. I’ll book the bar for a private party and take care of the decorations.”

“What about food?” he asked, not pressing his advantage because there was no way he didn’t realize she was changing the subject.

She tapped her pen on her chin. “Marino’s All Night Diner?”

Yes, the owners of Marinos and Marino’s were locked in an eternal battle to the metaphorical death, but they also both cared about their businesses’ bottom lines. This wouldn’t be the first time Marino’s had catered an event at Marinos.

“Can’t go wrong with it,” Frank said. “Make sure to get extra cannoli.”

She started a menu column in her notebook. “Plain or chocolate chip?”

“Why not both?”

“We do have a budget to stick to.” Which would cover the bare minimum. But if there was anything she’d learned as a public school teacher, it was to make magic with the bare minimum.

“I’ll take up a collection at the fire house,” Frank said. “The guys will cover it.”

Katie shut her notebook and capped her ballpoint pen. “Well, that takes care of that.” She started scooting across the booth seat to the aisle. “We’ll touch base in a week.”