Chapter 7
ROMAN
Aurora does not appreciate seeing me—or being called a liar and a vandal. I know this because the second she hears my voice, she whips around and glares up at me. Her eyes narrow as I round the bench and plop down next to her, and I feel the daggers digging right into my heart.
And my lungs, and my brain. I don’t think she’s picky about where she imagines stabbing me.
Her long hair is pulled into a perfect ponytail, reflecting silver-gold in the sun, and her legs are crossed neatly in a trim black skirt, and—
And I’m being creepy. I’m being weird. I need to stop checking her out.
She just glares so beautifully, and she’s such an intriguing mixture of fire and ice. She also seems to be in some kind of trouble, and because I’m insatiably curious, I want to know what it is.
I’m not sure who she was on the phone with when I first arrived and listened for a moment, but my guess is it was one of her sisters—one of the ones in the holding cell with her. They seemed close.
But the way she asked me for help and the way she reassured her sister everything was okay…those two conversations didn’t match. She was clearly worried when she talked to me, asking for permission to work elsewhere. Yet when she talked to her sister, she was nothing but confident and reassuring.
“So,” I say, resting one ankle over my knee and looking at her, trying to decipher all her secrets through eye contact alone. It doesn’t work, of course. “This is Lucky.”
Her frigid expression melts ever so slightly, but in its place rises a look of protection, like she’s ready to pummel anyone who insults her town.
She doesn’t have anything to worry about from me. It’s a charming place, small but idyllic.
“This is Lucky,” she says.
“You grew up here?”
She nods now, some more tension leaving her body. “I did. I’ve lived here all my life. I’d like to stay here for the rest of it, too.”
“What makes you want to stay?” I ask. “My instinct would be to place you in a city.”
“You don’t know me at all,” she says in a light voice, her shoulders twitching into a shrug. Her words aren’t rude; they’re just matter-of-fact. “So your instinct probably won’t be correct.”
“Tell me, then.” I grin at her. “What makes the holding cell here better than the holding cell anywhere else?”
Her narrowed eyes return, her ponytail flicking as she looks straight ahead instead of at me. But when she speaks again, her cheeks are pink. “Why are you even here?” she says.
“Why do you ask?” I lean closer to her. “Scared I’m going to tell Bart and Mindy what you’ve been doing in your free time?”
“Only if you want me to do the same,” she says coolly. Then she asks, “How did you end up in that holding cell?”
I straighten back up, because she smells more intoxicating than I can deal with. “Nothing nearly so impressive or entertaining as revenge on a cheating ex.”
Her cheeks flush pinker still, and although she’s looking determinedly at the shops around us, I can still see her lips tighten. “If you tell anyone—”
“Ah, don’t worry so much,” I cut her off, waving my hand. “I won’t tell anyone about the chink in your armor.”
We’re silent for a second, and when she speaks, it’s only reluctantly. “About tomorrow.”
I hum, my gaze wandering to the square around us as I wait for her to continue.
“I shouldn’t have asked for fifty dollars an hour. It was—” She falters but then goes on. “It was presumptuous.”
I lean back further on the bench, which is not at all comfortable. “I told you to ask for more, didn’t I?”
Her head jerks into a little nod. “Yes, but—”
“Trust me to know what I can and can’t handle,” I cut her off, keeping my voice light. But she needs to understand. I won’t offer what I don’t want to give, and I won’t ask for what I’m not willing to receive.
When she looks at me, I return her steady gaze, raising one brow at her. If she wants to argue or ask me questions, she’ll get around to it.
But she doesn’t—because Bart and Mindy appear on the other side of the square, rounding a corner and coming into view. Aurora and I both stand, and she looks up at me, one final warning.
“If you say anything about the holding cell—”
“I won’t,” I insist, tucking my hands comfortably in my pockets.
“But you know…” I step closer to her as the memory of the jail plays in my mind—and the memory of the phone conversation I overheard earlier.
“No matter how much of an ice queen you look like on the outside, you’re only human,” I breathe in her ear.
“Mind your own business,” she mutters, nudging me with her elbow, and I can’t stop my laugh as I stumble back.
“This is my business,” I say, gesturing around the square with a smile. “You’re my business. For the next two weeks, you are Aurora Marigold, my employee, and I am in charge of making sure your place of work is hospitable and well-run.”
She snorts at this, her eyes on Bart and Mindy as they approach. “I’m not your employee. I’m Denice’s employee. You’re a figurehead holding down the fort.”
“You wound me,” I say, clasping my hands over my heart even as the words burrow uncomfortably beneath my skin. “I may very well make massive improvements at Soul2Soul in the two weeks I’m here. I could revolutionize everything.”
And I swear I see the corners of her lips twitch.
“Besides, you’re helping organize my home, aren’t you? ”
She doesn’t have an answer for this. “So why are you here today?” she says, gesturing at the town square around us with one twirling finger and an arched brow. “Rubik’s cube run away?”
I force my eyes away and grin. “Nah. I just thought I should protect Mindy and Barf—oh, sorry. Bart.” I shoot a mock glare at her. “You’re a bad influence. I can’t think of him as anything else.”
“Blame my sisters,” Aurora says, and the first real smile I’ve seen flits over her lips, faint but unmistakable.
She clasps her hands in front of her and stands up straight, smoothing one hand down her already-neat skirt and shirt.
“That’s all they call him now. Ever since—well.
” She breaks off, her smile fading as Bart and Mindy get closer.
“I like them already,” I say, watching her—the way she prepares herself, adjusting her posture, replacing her dying smile with something more blank and businesslike. She changes on a dime until most of her personality has disappeared.
Sad. I bet I can get it to come back, though.
I’m not able to say anything else, because Bart and Mindy have almost reached us now.
Mindy scurries in teetering heels, and despite Bart’s average height, he walks in long strides with a possibly unearned level of confidence.
He has on a bow tie instead of a normal tie, and he offers us a lopsided smile that’s only slightly forced.
He seems to have moved past the awkward meeting in my office, for which I’m mostly glad; I’d be lying if I said a small, petty part of me wasn’t looking for a reason to hold a grudge.
When I look down and see his hand clasped with Mindy’s, however, I send them both a stern look.
For a few seconds they jointly pretend not to understand, but then finally they let go of each other.
I glance at Aurora to see if she’s noticed, although I shouldn’t care.
But she’s busy looking around the square, biting her lower lip as her eyes narrow in thought.
Then she nods decisively and looks at us.
“Right,” she says. “Shall we?”
Bart just shrugs, and that seems to be good enough for her. She strides away from us at a brisk pace, her posture impeccable as she heads for the center of the square. I follow with my hands in my pockets, content to watch her do her thing.
“So here’s what I was thinking,” she says when we’ve all reached her.
She holds her arms out toward the opposite side of the square.
“A stage here, because I know it will fit. The town has used one there before and it worked out well. I think it would be good to have the date auction elevated. And then here”—she turns around and gestures to the space around us—“we’ll have small tables, large enough for maybe four or five people, but standing only to encourage mingling instead of sitting in one place the whole time. ”
“And if it rains?” Bart says, but he’s not being obnoxious; his voice is simply professional.
Aurora grimaces. “I did talk to our usual tent vendors yesterday. We can have large coverings on standby, but it costs more than if we just put them up from the start. We’ll need to talk to budgeting and see what they think.”
“Our budget is decent for this,” Bart says as Mindy nods. “But I think open air would be much better if possible.”
“Me too,” Aurora says.
“What are you thinking for local vendors?” Mindy pipes up, tucking a few strands of thin hair behind her ear. “Mostly these?” She gestures at the shops that line the town square, and Aurora nods.
“I think we’ll have the best luck with these, and there are a lot of useful places here.
You’ll need to talk to them about our marketing packages,” she says, flicking her chin at Bart, “but I think they’ll be more than willing.
There’s a record shop and a romance book store close by, at the end of Main where it turns into the square,” she says, pointing off to one side of the square, “and there are several food vendors we could work with too.”
“Do we have a head count for this thing yet?” I say. They all look at me, possibly because they’ve forgotten I’m here.
“Not yet,” Aurora says.
Mindy shakes her head. “Ticket sales have opened, but the window to purchase will go for the next two weeks. We’re only at a quarter of what we expect so far.”
“You’re placing advertisements, I assume.” It’s not a question, but Bart still looks faintly affronted.
“Of course we are,” he says. He gives his bow tie a little tug, adjusting it.
I nod and exhale. “Well, it all sounds good to me, but I don’t really know much about this.”
The question hangs in the air between us: Then why did you come along?