“I forgot how crazy this town gets over the Harvest Festival,” I murmur to Rissa as I stare out our office window. Main Street has been transformed. There are two rows of booths lining the middle of the street, and strings of lights zigzag between the buildings with a small carnival for the kids set up at the far end of the street. It has a big slide. A maze made out of hay bales. Some rides that were brought in from San Francisco.
There was a palpable electricity in the atmosphere as I walked from the parking lot into the office. The hum of a community coming together to celebrate. The knowledge that everything would be closed tonight so everyone could participate in the only thing in this town that I remember loving doing.
“Crazy is an understatement.” She chuckles. “And to think the Chamber of Commerce has put up a booth down there promoting the contest . . . and one Grayson Malone.”
Is it sad that my heart beats a bit faster at the statement, and I can’t fight the grin on my face? “I’m sure he’s going to love that.”
“It doesn’t hurt that rumors are still flying about the two of you.” She chuckles. “I may be good at coaxing but, girl, you landed that kiss right on his lips with the whole town watching, and it’s the kiss that keeps on giving to us here.” I keep my eyes focused on the preparations outside and try not to be irritated by her supposition that I manipulated the situation. Just like Grayson’s. “You may not have delivered the photos like I asked for this round, but you roped him in with the town behind him, and now he can’t say no. Job well done.”
“Thanks.”
A truck pulls up and when the back gate rolls up, I smile at the bundles of balloons inside.
“There goes six bucks of my money,” Rissa says. “My kids love those damn balloons. Are you going?”
“Of course!” My mind veers to Grayson. To the kiss I can’t seem to forget. To telling him we can’t do this when every single part of me wants to.
To the possibility of getting to see him tonight.
“That surprises me,” she says pulling me to look her way.
“Why? Who doesn’t love a festival? It used to be one of the only things I loved about this place when I was a kid.”
“And now?”
I turn back to the view of the street laid out in front of us. To the dance floor area off to the left and the food vendors setting up tables and chairs over to the right. I take in the hills around us and their rich greens and light browns. “It isn’t as bad as I remember.”
“I knew we’d wear you down.” Her laugh rumbles across the space as I turn back to my laptop. “Well, get ready to fall more in love with us in a few hours. We always cut loose early on Harvest Day.”
“Really?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you?”
“No.”
“I told the crew as soon as we get the layout finished, we can bail. It may be Harvest Festival time here in Sunnyville, but it’s deadline day for us to submit to Thorton Publishing.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
We turn back to our work. My calls are endless, my press releases about the contest’s third round of voting emailed, and between everything I do, my eyes find their way to the preparations outside to watch a festival come to life. Bit by bit. Piece by piece. The staff outside our open office door buzzes with anticipation over one of the biggest nights of the year.
“Rissa, we have a problem.”
Those words pull my attention from my spreadsheet. Before Rissa even has a chance to respond to Lilah, I notice all the staff standing in various places of the large conference room, looking our way with defeat etching the lines of their faces.
“What’s wrong?”
“Something happened with the software program. The file got infected.”
“Did we lose it?”
“We aren’t sure. A portion perhaps. We need to go back through each contributing file and try to piece it back together and . . .”
“And that’s going to take hours,” Rissa finishes for her.
You could hear a pin drop in here. All eyes are on Rissa as her shoulders sag and the festivities spark to life out on the street.
“I’ll stay and piece the files back together.” I think I shock everyone with my comment. Heads whip my way. Eyebrows raise.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Rissa says while everyone remains listening with bated breath.
“No. It’s fine,” I lie, swallowing over the lump forming in my own throat. “I don’t have kids or friends out there waiting for me to show up. I have it.”
Rissa locks eyes with mine, and there’s so much gratitude in them it makes me feel uncomfortable. “Sidney . . .”
“Just go.” I plaster a smile on my lips. “I sat with Lilah earlier this week and passed her little quiz. For the most part, I’ve done this before at my other job . . . I can do it.”
“I’ll keep my cell on me,” Lilah says.
“Just go. I have it handled.”
“Knock. Knock.”
“Ohmygod.” I startle and slam my knee on the underside of the desk as I jump up, but I don’t think the racing of my heart has anything to do with being surprised. It has everything to do with the man standing with his shoulder resting against the doorjamb, hands shoved into his jean pockets and eyes finding their way up and down the length of my body.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay. It’s just—I didn’t hear the door.”
“You were kind of lost in your own world.” Silence settles between us as our eyes hold and ask and answer things I don’t think we’re ready to say aloud.
“I was. I didn’t expect anyone—yes.” Why am I suddenly so nervous? Maybe it’s because of how I left things with him last time and now I wish I could take those words back?
“I saw Rissa outside with her kids. She said you were up here. Are you not going to join in the festivities?”
“There was an issue with the layout, and we’re on deadline, so I offered to stay and fix it.”
“Why?”
Nervous energy has me stepping back and then yelping when I bump into a leaf of the fern behind me. The intrigued expression on his face softens as he smiles at my clumsiness.
“Because I don’t have a family or kids who were waiting for me to take them, like most of the staff did. I don’t have anyone looking forward to me being there.” I shrug as something flashes through the blue of his eyes that I can’t quite read. “So, I told them I’d stay and fix things to meet the deadline.”
“I was looking forward to you being there.” The deep tenor of his voice is a seduction all in its own right.
“Oh.” My breath hitches at his comment, and I hate that for a girl who never gets tongue-tied over a man, I’m doing a damn fine job of pretending I am. Next thing I know, I’m going to forget that I know how to walk in heels and accidentally trip and fall into his arms. That’s how ridiculously dorky I feel right now.
He takes a step toward me.
“What else did Rissa say?” I ask for the sole reason of needing something to say.
“She thanked me for agreeing to do the contest.” He angles his head and stares at me for a beat, and I’m suddenly so very aware how dark the main office space is . . . and how very alone we are. “Why did you say the magazine needs to be saved?”
His question takes me off guard and also gives me a small reprieve from the sexual tension that eats up the oxygen in the room.
“It has failing viewership. I was brought on staff to elevate the numbers and help save it.”
“The contest.”
“The contest.”
“And where do I fit in all of this?”
He takes another step closer, and everything about him seems to consume the small space. The width of his shoulders. The outdoorsy scent of his cologne. The soft sound he makes when his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. The dark shadow of stubble starting to show on his jaw.
“You’re going to be the winner.” The minute I say the words, I feel like such an ass.
His smile widens in a slow, steady slide as he nods. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” He chuckles.
“That’s not what I meant. I meant that—”
“It doesn’t matter. Rissa explained it all to me outside.”
“Oh.” Panic strikes. Did she really tell him our plan to play up his background to sell more magazines?
“Mm-hmm.” My breath hitches as he reaches out and places his hands on the sides of my neck, his thumb brushing ever so slightly over my lips. “If I stay in the contest, do your dog and pony show, you don’t lose your job.”
“That’s right.” I nod while breathing a silent sigh of relief. That’s all Rissa explained to him and not the exploitation of his backstory. “What do you want in return?”
His grin is lightning quick as I realize what I just implied, and he laughs before stepping closer, so every time I inhale, my chest brushes ever so softly against his. The sensation is subtle but damaging as hell to the dryness of my panties.
“No more games, Sidney.” I nod in blind agreement when I have absolutely no clue what he means by that. “No more planted articles. No more manipulated photos. And you keep Luke out of everything.”
“Okay.”
He leans forward, and I close my eyes in anticipation of his kiss, but the heat of his breath on my ear is just as arousing when he speaks. “After you finish, I’d like for you to come on out to the party.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” This isn’t even a good idea because anyone could walk in here right now and see us. The thought is fleeting because when Grayson leans back, his lips are a whisper from mine, and his thumb is rubbing back and forth over the dent in my collarbone.
“Why not?” His breath hits my lips and taunts me to lean forward and taste his.
“Because I’ve already been warned about the impropriety of us being seen together.”
“So?”
“If you win, there could be a case that you did because of bias.”
Kiss me.
“I don’t care what people think. I haven’t for a long time.”
Kiss me.
“I know, but keeping my job is kind of important.”
His eyes are unrelenting as desire swims in them plain as day, and he nods in acknowledgment.
Kiss me.
“For the record, Princess. It is a bad idea . . . but it doesn’t make me want you any less.”
Then take me.
But all I do is gasp a quick intake of breath as his hands leave my skin.
He takes a step back.
“Figure out how you’re going to hide what’s between us in this nosy little town.”
And he turns on his heel and walks out, leaving me staring after him and wanting him so bad it hurts.