Chapter 1
Tessa
I’ve been Honeyridge Falls’ event coordinator for three years, which means I’ve perfected the art of convincing people to volunteer for things they didn’t know they wanted to do.
The folding chair beneath me creaks as I shift, trying to find a position that doesn’t make my lower back scream. Town Hall’s meeting room is packed—standing room only, which would be gratifying if half these people weren’t here for the free coffee and Maeve’s cookies. Snow-dusted coats hang on every available hook, and the radiator in the corner is working overtime against the January chill seeping through the old windows. I’ve got my laptop open, color-coded spreadsheet glowing, backup plans A through D printed and stapled in my binder, and exactly seventeen minutes to recruit volunteers for the Valentine’s fundraiser before everyone remembers they have somewhere else to be. Seventeen minutes. I can work with that.
“Alright, everyone!” I stand, clipboard in hand—the good clipboard, the one with the reinforced metal clip that doesn’t bend when I’m making aggressive check marks. “Thank you all for coming. I know you’re busy, so I’ll keep this brief and efficient.”
Maeve Bennett chuckles softly from her seat near the back. She’s wearing her Honey Crumb apron dusted with flour, silver hair in its usual soft bun. “Oh honey, we love you, but ‘brief’ isn’t in your vocabulary.”
A few people laugh. I ignore them. This is why I make lists—you can’t argue with a well-organized list.
“The Valentine’s fundraiser is in exactly four weeks,” I continue, tapping my pen against the clipboard. Click. Click. Click. “We’re doing a bachelor auction again this year, proceeds going to the community center’s roof repair. Last year we raised eight thousand dollars, and this year I’m projecting twelve thousand minimum if we?—”
The door at the back opens, letting in a gust of cold air.
Ben Wilson walks in, snowflakes melting in his dark hair, and my train of thought derails spectacularly. He’s in his usual work jeans and a flannel that’s definitely seen better days, cheeks flushed from the cold outside. There’s a smudge of what looks like grease on his jaw. His scent hits me even from across the room—leather and musk—and I lose my place in my notes.
Our eyes meet. His go wide. Then he sees my clipboard.
“Nope.” He turns around and walks straight back out into the cold, door swinging shut behind him.
The room erupts in laughter.
Heat floods my face. “That’s—he just—” My grip tightens. “Fine. Moving on. As I was saying, we need volunteers for setup, ticket sales, and obviously we need bachelors for the auction itself. Now, I have a preliminary list of candidates based on availability and?—”
“I’ll do it.”
Milo Stone is leaning against the wall near the refreshment table, coffee cup in one hand, that easy smile on his face that probably gets him out of speeding tickets. He’s wearing dark jeans and a charcoal sweater that does unfair things to hisshoulders. His scent—dark chocolate and amber—curls through the room, warm and inviting.
I blink at him. “You’ll... what?”
“The bachelor auction.” He pushes off the wall, moving with that relaxed confidence that comes naturally to him. “I’ll volunteer. Might be fun.”
“Oh. I—” Why is my brain short-circuiting? I literally just asked for volunteers. “That’s perfect. Thank you, Milo. I’ll add you to the list.”
“Anything for the community center’s roof.” His smile widens. “Plus, I’ve been told I clean up nice.”
Someone wolf-whistles. Milo winks.
My pen is tapping double-time now. Click-click-click-click. “Right. Excellent. So that’s one volunteer. We need at least eight total to make the numbers work, so if anyone else?—”
“Elijah will do it.”
Levi Reyes speaks up from the third row, where he’s sitting next to Sadie Quinn and her pack, all of them still bundled in scarves. He’s got that knowing look on his face, the one that says he’s about to cause trouble for someone he cares about.
Beside him, his cousin Elijah Smith goes very, very still.
“I will?” Elijah’s voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the ambient noise. He’s in his usual work wear—jeans and a henley, sawdust probably still in his dark blonde hair from whatever project he was working on today. His scent is cedarwood and honey, grounding in a way that makes me want to breathe deeper.
“You will,” Levi confirms cheerfully. “You were just saying last week how you wanted to get more involved in community events.”
“I said I’d help build the stage.” Elijah looks mildly betrayed. “Not... perform on it.”
“Same thing.” Levi’s grin is absolutely shameless.
Sadie elbows her alpha gently. “Don’t torture your cousin.”
