Page 11 of Airhead

“And my special bacon-stuffed twice-baked potatoes, too?” a woman asked.

Katie and Sandy turned in unison as Carla Esposito walked up with a foil-covered platter.

Carla was famous in the neighborhood for her twice baked potatoes. No school, church or civic fundraiser was complete without them—and they always disappeared fast. Sorta like Carla’s shitty ex-husband who’d emptied their bank account six months ago and split for parts unknown. What was it with Waterbury men? The town was full of jerks. Which is why Katie was single and planned on staying that way.

“There’s always room for your potatoes,” one of the guys said with the kind of enthusiasm Katie’s now growling stomach agreed with.

They were all about to head inside, the men all focused on the food (except Frank) and the women all staring at the firefighters (except Katie) when a car backfired. They all jolted in surprise and turned toward the street in time to see Brittany Gershon pull into a parking spot in front of the firehouse. A puff of smoke from the El Camino’s tailpipe hung in the air before a breeze blew it away. Bittany got out of the car, tucked her spiral-permed blonde hair behind one ear, gave them a jaunty wave, and went straight to the back of her El Camino.

“Hope I’m not too late for your dinner,” Brittany called before she hauled a Crock-Pot wrapped in an orange and maroon bath towel and duct tape out of the car’s truck bed. She made her way over to what was now a crowd of women and firefighters in front of the open bay doors. “I made a big batch of beef stew. Just what you need on a crisp fall evening.”

They walked together into the firehouse as some sort of sixteen-legged, awkward mass of hungry (in more ways than one) humanity before stopping next to the shiny red fire truck. No one seemed sure what to do next.

That’s when the door to the captain’s office opened and Katie’s dad walked out. He took one look at the group, raised his bushy white eyebrows, and snorted as if he knew something all of the rest of them were clueless about.

“Well, aren’t we the lucky ones,” Ed said as he rubbed his hands together on the short walk from his office to the group. “Did you have a meeting to figure out what to bring?”

“No,” the women all said at once—Sandy with a little more ‘tude than the rest of them.

“Actually,” Katie said, holding out the Tupperware she’d gotten off the counter at her parents’ house. “Mom sent me with the cookies for you.”

“Thanks Pumpkin,” he said with a grin. “You sticking around for this feast?”

The glare Sandy sent her way almost made her want to say yes. Then she made the mistake of glancing at Frank, who was still doing the grin thing. Her formerly stable stomach did a wobble and a wave. She wasn’t a chicken. No one with the last name Madigan in Waterbury could be—it just wasn’t how the baker’s dozen of them were made. But she was already stepping back toward escape before the first word came out of her mouth. “No,” she said without pausing her retreat. “I have plans.”

Her dad waggled his eyebrows at her. “Hot date, eh?”

Not even close. But she didn’t have plans either, so in for a penny, in for a pound of lies.

“Well before you go,” he said, landing a hand on her shoulder and steering her away from freedom and toward his office, “I have a favor to ask.”

The rest of the group—including Frank, who she did not look over to watch, she just had a neck twitch—made their way from the bay to the kitchen where the rest of the crew let out a few whistles of appreciation at the edible bounty they’d been surprised with.

Katie sat the Tupperware on her dad’s disaster of a desk (how did one person make such a mess?) and sat down in his guest chair. “So what are you up to?”

Whatever it was, it had to be good with the way his eyes were sparkling. Holy hell, her brothers all got the same look when they were about to pull off one of their infamous pranks.

He shut the office door with a firm click, looked around as if there was a chance they weren’t alone, and then clapped with excitement. “Fitzy’s retiring, and I was voluntold to make it a night the crotchety old goat would never forget.”

As if her dad wouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity to send one of his best friend’s off in style. “You say that like you don’t love the guy.”

“Don’t say that too loud,” he groused with a wink. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”

Katie rolled her eyes at her dad. As if everyone in Waterbury didn’t already know he was a total softy.

“So you want my help with planning?” she asked. “You got it.”

“Thanks Pumpkin, you’re the best.” Her dad settled down behind his desk. “I’ll let Hartigan know he’ll be working with you on this.”

Katie’s stomach bypassed her toes and went straight through the soles of her tennis shoes. “Why would he be involved?”

“Because one of the benefits of having underlings is you get to voluntell people to do things,” her dad said with a shrug.

Nope. Not a chance. She’d go out to the drive-in with Benny O’Rourke before she’d work on a project with Frank Hartigan. Her sanity, her temper, and her panties would be safer that way.

“I’m sure he can handle it on his own,” she said as she stood, trying to back toward the door without looking like she was.

“Hartigan?” Her dad scoffed. “I can trust the man at a fire, but for party-planning he needs help.” He looked her right in the eye, and there wasn’t even a hint of a glint of a sparkle in his baby blues. “Your help.”