It was an injustice of the greatest magnitude that he’d left high school and gotten all big and broad and sexy looking. Too damned bad the inside didn’t match the outside. I knew that from first-hand experience, and I’d never forgive him for it.
“Mmhmm,” Pepper hummed.
I ignored her and pretended to write something down, though what I scribbled in the margin was:Powell = absolute jackass. Avoid at all costs.
Of course, he sat across the aisle where there was no escape without being obvious about it. When he looked back, surveying the meeting attendance, and realized I was there, he gave me a polite smile. I scowled and looked away fast enough I might’ve sprained something.
The meeting dragged on through traffic updates, parade permits, and Mrs. Wiggins’s annual crusade against battery-powered Santas. I sank lower and lower in my chair until Mayor Allen tapped his microphone with the kind of self-important flourish that always signaled an agenda item worth caring about.
“Next up,” he announced, “is planning for this year’s Twelve Stops of Christmas holiday crawl.”
I straightened. The holiday crawl was huge for Pour Decisions. My seasonal drinks were basically the reason half the town survived December. I’d volunteered to chair the committee this year to further my business connections in HuckleberryCreek. I had so many ideas for how to level up the event from years past.
Pepper nudged me. “This is it. You’ve got this. Creative queen.”
I tried not to beam. “Obviously.”
The mayor smiled at the room like he already saw a front-page newspaper photo. “Given the scale of the event this year, we’ve decided the planning committee will be co-chaired.”
Co-chaired? What the hell? I had everything under control. No one had consulted me about this.
“Co-chair number one: Jessica Donnegan of Pour Decisions.”
Pepper elbowed me. “YES.”
I lifted my chin, ready to accept with grace. I could play well with others as long as others weren’t?—
“And co-chair number two will be Powell Ferguson of the Huckleberry Creek Fire Department.”
My stomach dropped so fast I considered checking under my seat for a trapdoor. I turned toward Pepper. She had one hand over her mouth and eyes the size of ornaments. Behind us, someone gasped. Across the aisle, Powell glanced back at me and raised his brows in a helplessWell… I guess we’re doing this waythat made me want to throw my notebook at his head.
“This is sabotage,” I whispered.
“It’s not sabotage,” Pepper whispered back. “It’s dramatic irony.”
“I reject dramatic irony.”
The mayor beamed like a politician at a ribbon-cutting ceremony, oblivious to the emotional carnage unfolding in real time across the folding chairs. “We think combining Ms. Donnegan’s exceptional creativity with the fire department’s extensive community resources will generate excellent synergy for this year’s expanded event!”
Synergy, my ass. I felt my blood pressure spiking as I raised my hand with a forced politeness sharp enough to cut glass. “Mayor Allen, with all due respect—and I mean all due respect—are you absolutely, positively, one hundred percent sure you want me paired with him? No room for reconsideration at all? Because I feel like there might be other firefighters who?—”
A few people in the back rows laughed, clearly thinking this was some kind of adorable small-town banter. The mayor, however, did not appear amused. His smile tightened around the edges. “Yes, Ms. Donnegan. You and Mr. Ferguson are who we want leading this initiative. The decision is final.”
Fantastic. Just freaking fantastic. I closed my eyes and counted to five, trying to summon every meditation app I’d ever downloaded and deleted five minutes later. It didn’t help. Not even a little.
When I opened my eyes again, Powell was still watching me with that infuriatingly earnest expression—all apologetic concern and helpful energy, like he was trying to radiate calming vibes in my direction. Like he thought his stupid perfect face might somehow make this situation less catastrophic.
I narrowed my eyes at him with the intensity of a laser beam, and he had the absolute audacity to lift one broad shoulder in a small, almost hopeful shrug. The kind of shrug that saidMaybe this won’t be so bad?
I mouthed “No” at him with exaggerated precision. His lips twitched like he was fighting a smile, which made me want to launch my entire tote bag at his head.
Ten excruciating minutes later—ten minutes that felt like geological eras—the meeting adjourned. While council members drifted toward the lobby in clusters to chat and dissect every word that had been spoken, I tried to execute a tactical retreat through the side door.
Pepper’s hand shot out and snagged my wrist before I made it three steps. “Oh, no you don’t. You have to talk to him.”
“I really don’t.”
“You’re co-chairs.”
