Page 294 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

GEORGIA

“Mr. January,” Mac repeated. “I’m an hour late for a meeting and now I’m Mr. January?”

Oh my goodness, Mac was the fire chief. FIRE. CHIEF. He just got hotter and hotter.

I’d laugh at my pun about him setting my panties on fire, but he didn’t look too receptive to the idea of putting them out. When the committee said the chief would be late because he was on a call, they never used Mac’s name. Not once. Patrick, who also worked on the department, called him Chief.

I hadn’t known him very long, perhaps interacted with him a total of fifteen minutes or so between the airport and over the little apartment over his garage.

In that short time, I took him to be a calm, levelheaded sort.

Not one quick to temper or overreaction.

Not with a six-year-old at home and being the fire chief.

Or letting strangers stay on his property.

Maverick nodded at Mac in confirmation. I held my breath.

Since he’d missed the beginning of the meeting and me introducing my crazy idea of the calendar, Mac needed to catch up.

Especially since he was the chief, the one who was officially in charge of the fire department that was doing the fundraiser.

And, since it was his buff body I imagined first when I thought of the calendar.

I wasn’t going to tell him this, but he was my inspiration for the project.

Mac, no shirt, in bunker pants and only red suspenders over his washboard abs and broad chest, his biceps bulging as he held up a puppy from the animal shelter.

I’d throw my money at that calendar. I’d get one for my girlfriends. Hell, I might even get one for my mother.

Of course, I didn’t know officially if he had washboard abs, but a girl could imagine.

And hope. No, yesterday’s black tee and today’s fire department uniform shirt clearly outlined sculpted pecs, broad shoulders, fabric-stretching biceps and a narrow waist. I bet he even had that V thingy at his hips.

And he, nor any of the other firefighter models, would be shirtless like Patrick teased. The project was family friendly.

“Mr. January?”

I blinked. Oh yes, he would definitely be Mr. January. Maybe even the cover guy, although I had yet to meet the other months’ options.

“You can be July if you want. I hear that’s your birthday month,” Maverick stated. The corner of his mouth twitched and his eyes pretty much sparkled with amusement. He was definitely having fun watching his friend squirm.

Maverick James might be even calmer than Mac. He did run a billion-dollar corporation, and signed my paychecks, so I wasn’t going to say a word bad about him. He was also the size of small car, so there was that, too.

“How is a calendar ‘getting the community involved and in on it’?”

“Because we’ll do a contest when the calendar is out and let everyone donate for their favorite hero or cutest animal.”

His mouth fell open slightly. If we were eating something, it would have fallen into his lap.

“You’re a bunch of smart, sane, educated professionals. Where on earth did you come up with an idea like that?” Mac asked, pretty much shifting his glare around the table.

I cleared my throat. “That would be me.”

Whenever his dark gaze turned and settled on me, I got butterflies in my stomach and hard nipples. This look? Intense, and not in a good way. In a way that said he wanted to drive me back to the airport and put me on a plane back to… anywhere.

He pretty much implied that I wasn’t smart, sane, or educated. I had no issue with being in a calendar with puppies and kittens, but I grew up in southern pageant life. Mac, I doubted, hadn’t.

“You’re here in Hunter Valley again, why?” Mac asked me, his question pointed.

My smile slipped for a moment, but I was used to being judged, to being doubted. To feeling like shit for not being perfect or pretty enough or, well… valued.

I hadn’t been valued for my looks on the pageant circuit.

No, I had, and was found lacking. I hadn’t been valued as a daughter, not like Sassy, my sister, the true pageant queen.

Well, her real name was Sue Ann, but everyone called her Sassy.

I hadn’t been valued by Art as worthy of being his wife or the mother of his child.

Out of the blue a few weeks ago, Bradley called me about this job, thought I’d be perfect for it.

As Maverick’s personal assistant, he knew what the job entailed, and he knew me.

I was here because he valued me and my expertise.

Sure, I’d never done a fire department fundraiser, but pageants were all about supporting the community. Being the pretty, smiling face of it.

So was the idea a little far-fetched? It wasn’t like I invented the concept.

It had been used for fire department fundraisers for years.

The Hunter Valley one might not be as good as some of the Australian ones I’d seen since they had single, hot firemen with koalas.

I couldn’t compete with koalas. And the shirts stayed on.

Still, I was here and I made a solid, cost-effective suggestion so I turned the volume of my smile back up. The others on the committee liked it and approved.

But Mac–

“Mac,” the mayor–Mary–scolded.

I tipped my chin up, pretended he was a judge asking me a pageant interview question.

“I was hired to reinvigorate the fundraiser into one that supports and is supported by Hunter Valley with an increased bottom line and reach,” I said slowly and clearly, as if I was on stage.

Before I left Calhan, I practiced and refined that before my mother quizzed me on why I was crazy enough to take a temp job in “freezing cold, boring, desolate Montana.” Those were her words.

I would agree that it was cold, but so far it didn’t seem like the place was boring and the little town of Hunter Valley was far from desolate.

In fact, it seemed like there was more happening here than in my small town of Calhan, Georgia.

Mac leaned back, crossed his arms over his formidable chest. Frowned. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just… who doesn’t want chili? That and the pancake breakfast have been a fundraising staple for HVFD for years.”

“Patrick shared a list of other fundraisers that have been done in the past,” I said, turning to what I wrote on the white board earlier. “Carnival, car wash, birthday parties. All great options.”

I gave Mac my big smile, hoping to hide my growing nerves at the look on his face that wasn’t going away.

The others on the committee were in, but it was crucial Mac was, too.

While the donations would go to the kids’ club and I was here as full-time support from James Corp, this was a fire department fundraiser and he was the chief.

“Look, Mac,” Maverick began. “It’s not the fundraiser that’s changed but the charity being supported.

The kids’ club is what’s different this year.

In the past, the charities supported were small and the donations collected were enough.

We’re all thinking bigger this year. The kids’ club involves building an addition onto the community center.

Funding a full-time employee to be on staff.

Part-timers as well. There’re monthly expenses. ”

Mac held up his hand. “I’m aware of what’s involved.”

“If you take the donations earned from last year’s pancake breakfast, it will only get us one tenth of the way to the needed goal to get the kids’ club up and running.

” He tipped his head down to look right at Mac so he’d hopefully get the point.

“In five years. This fundraising idea’s projected income potential is substantial for less overhead and less effort.

” Mac stated a number but slid the projection sheet I’d made late last night after I came up with the idea across the table.

I’d outlined rough numbers for a photographer, graphic designer and anticipated time commitments.

It wasn’t exact, but I was confident in the estimates.

They were positioned besides Bridget Beckett’s numbers for running the kids’ club.

“Plus, the process can be duplicated every year.”

Mac’s eyebrows went up. Just like they had the day before when Andy had said I was his new mom. “Bridget’s math?”

“Bridget’s math,” Mav repeated. “And Georgia’s estimated fundraising costs.”

“That’s… impressive.” He looked at the list. “Calendars need to be printed. Where’s that expense?”

“Calendars are like paperback books,” I explained, setting my hands on the back of one of the chairs. “They are sold online and printed on demand. This means they’re only printed when someone buys one. There’s no overhead because the cost is taken by the production company with each sale.”

“So the fundraiser is just on a website and people buy the calendar and have it delivered to their house?”

I nodded. “That’s one option to get it. We’ll have calendars on hand to sell at a community event on the day and time when the chili dinner was scheduled.”

“And get autographs,” Patrick added, messing with Mac. From my perspective, he wasn’t being helpful, but I knew they worked together and were probably friends outside of this meeting and he was having a little fun.

“I’ll ask local businesses if they would stock and sell copies as well. The ski resort and other places tourists visit.” Hopefully, that would help sway him.

Mac frowned. In fact, he looked downright constipated. “I don’t like it.”

“Is it because you’re Mr. January?” Maverick asked.

“Of course it is!” Mac tossed his hands up, then looked to Mayor Mary. “It’s not Georgia or the idea that’s at issue here, but me? Why me?”

That was his problem? That he had to be in the calendar? He had no idea how attractive he was. If he was on the cover, they’d make a killing. I thought of all the women who’d be ogling Mac and I was suddenly a tad possessive.

“You’re the fire chief,” I said. “This is a fire department fundraiser.”

“Aren’t you worried about sexual harassment or an issue with it being demeaning or debasing? We’d be perpetuating that people are valued for their bodies and how they look.”

I could so relate. Coming from a pageant lifestyle, I knew all about the haters, those who thought women should be quiet and pretty.

That they’re judged for their poise, how they looked in an evening gown and swimsuit.

But pageants were more than that. Sure, I wasn’t up for sexualizing little girls who did them, but this wasn’t the same thing at all.

“What are people going to tell their kids?” he asked.

“That the fire department is full of healthy men and women who take care of their bodies through exercise, skill and knowledge,” I said. “That the fire department and those who work for it, are safe, friendly and approachable. That they care for animals.”

Mary nodded. “First off, it’s not just men,” she explained. “It’ll be women, too. Liz on B Team already said she was in. Anyone else who wishes to participate can, but this committee will decide the final photos that end up in the calendar instead of the website.”

“Website?” The little vein in Mac’s temple was throbbing.

“Patrick may have been messing with you when you’d only wear your bunker pants,” Mary continued. “This is a family fundraiser. If you’re that shy, or uncomfortable then–”

“Yeah, Chief. If you don’t think you have the body to be Mr. January, then we’ll go with Smutters.” Patrick’s words had Mac spinning to face him.

The vein in his temple throbbed. “Smutters? Are you serious right now?”

I didn’t know who Smutters was or even if that person was a man or a woman. Or a dog. It sounded like a dog’s name.

Mac raised his hand. “Wait. If I’m stuck doing this, then Smutters is fucking in. And you.” Mac rolled his wrist and pointed at Patrick. “You’re doing this, too.”

Patrick raised his left hand, showed off his wedding band. “Sorry, no can do. I’m married.”

“So?” Mac stood. “Your wife is going to flaunt that calendar to all your friends, showing off how she’s got Mr. March or whatever in her bed. She’ll buy ten copies.”

Mary snickered and Patrick’s humor slipped away.

“We’re going to make the calendar be of bachelor and bachelorettes,” Maverick said. “Singles.”

“Singles,” Mac repeated. “As in on the market? You want to peddle us as available?” Mac asked Mary, his voice finally rising. Clearly, he thought the mayor had a little more discretion.

She blushed some more. “Not everyone who’s single is as grumpy as you,” Mary countered, making it clear her stance on discretion. “Others are looking for someone.”

“You’re saying I need to be in a calendar to find a date?” He ran a hand over his neck in blatant frustration.

“How about this? If you’re off the market, you don’t have to be Mr. January,” Maverick said.

“No way. If I’m in, then Patrick can be in, too. Relationship status should be irrelevant.”

An electronic siren came through a speaker I didn’t know was on the wall. I jumped. It went off again, followed by a voice giving an address. Oh, an emergency call.

Mac stood abruptly and headed for the door. He stopped, turned around and looked my way long enough to say, “I’m in, but we have to talk. I know exactly where to find you.”