Victoria’s voice cuts through my confusion. “The deadline for completing your designs will be December 17. Judging will begin that afternoon, with winners announced at a gala that evening. The grand prize, as you all know, is $10,000, which is provided by the Holbrook Family Trust, started by my Great-grandfather, J. Marley.”
A collective murmur ripples through the crowd. Ten thousand dollars... the thought makes my palms sweat. I hadn’t given much thought to the prize, because for me, this means so much more, but $10,000 is nothing to sneeze at. Since leaving the city, I’ve been making enough to pay the bills and occasionally dipping into my savings. It would be nice to have a $10,000 nest egg in the bank.
“Now, let me introduce you to our contestants,” Victoria continues, her eyes scanning the room. “First, we have our returning champions.”
She gestures to a tall, willowy woman in the front row. She stands with practiced poise. “Evelyn Winters, our local florist, and three-time runner-up. Evelyn’s designs always bring a touch of natural elegance to our competition.”
Evelyn gives a graceful nod, her piercing green eyes scanning the room with a mix of warmth and competitive fire. I’ve seen her work in her flower shop, and her arrangements are always breathtaking. There’s a determined set to her jaw that tells me she’s not settling for runner-up this year. I can’t wait to see what she does. I’m certain it will include live plants and flowers, and it should be amazing.
“Next, we have Marcus Chen, one of Bentonville Falls’ top real estate agents, and a newcomer to our competition.”
A man in his early fifties with a mop of unruly black hair and warm brown eyes behind stylish glasses waves shyly from the front right of the room, his kind face creasing into a nervous smile. I’ve seen Marcus around town, always impeccably dressed but with an approachable air that must serve him well in his profession. He’s wearing a charcoal suit today with a pastel blue shirt.
“And, of course, Olivia Sanchez, art teacher at Bentonville High and last year’s People’s Choice winner.”
A petite woman with a vibrant purple streak in her dark hair grins widely, giving a little bow. The light catches on the paint splatters on her hands, a testament to her hands-on approach to art class. I wish I’d had a teacher like her when I was in high school. It wasn’t until college that I really found my calling.
“Let’s not forget Logan Brown, our three-time champion,” Victoria adds, and I feel my shoulders tense involuntarily. “Logan’s designs have become something of a local legend.”
I pointedly avoid looking in Logan’s direction, even as I hear a smattering of applause and murmured compliments. Three-time champion.
“And finally, a warm welcome to our newest competitor, Bailey Parker. Bailey made quite a name for herself in the big city before moving to Benton Falls, and we’re thrilled to have her this year.”
I feel heat rush to my cheeks as heads turn in my direction. I half-stand, my knees too weak to hold me up. Victoria’s warm smile finds me in the crowd. “We’re excited to see what fresh perspective you’ll bring to our little competition, Bailey.”
I manage a nod, my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth—again. I glance at Logan. The man has the audacity to wink at me. My already unsteady legs give out, and I land on my backside in the chair with a grunt. My cheeks burn, and I drop my gaze.
As Victoria continues with the rules, Gladys’s phone chimes again. She answers with the same greeting, though she’s speaking much quieter this time. “Yes, that should be fine,” she says, then adds with a chuckle, “I can’t guarantee your teenager will suddenly love doing dishes, but I can arrange for a little extra patience and maybe a spark of appreciation for clean plates.”
I can’t help myself. My curiosity is spilling over. “What was that?” I hiss, trying not to draw attention to us. I do not need to get on Victoria’s bad side, if she has one.
Gladys tucks her phone away, looking completely unperturbed. “My other job. I’m covering for an angel who wanted to go to her great-granddaughter’s wedding.”
Great-grand …daughter’s?
Before I can process this bizarre statement, her phone chimes. “I think I’ll take these outside.” Gladys stands, already answering as she walks out. “Blessing Hotline...”
I stare after her, my mind reeling. Angels? Blessing Hotline? What on earth is going on?
My confusion is interrupted by the sound of someone settling into Gladys’s vacated seat. I turn, only to find myself face-to-face with Logan Brown.
My heart does an unwelcome little flip as I take in his appearance. His dark hair is slightly tousled, and his deep green eyes seem to sparkle in the chandelier light. He’s wearing a soft-looking sweater in a rich forest green that brings out the warmth in his skin tone.
I let out an audible groan before I could stop myself. Logan’s response is a grin and a wink that sets my pulse racing in a way I absolutely refuse to acknowledge.
To my surprise—and, if I’m honest, slight disappointment—Logan doesn’t try to start a conversation. He simply sits there, his presence irritating, as Victoria wraps up the meeting.
“Remember,” Victoria says, her voice taking on a note of excitement, “the Holly Inn will be hosting the high school’s Christmas Ball on December 20–go Tigers! The winning design will set the stage for what I’m sure will be a magical evening for our students.”
As she says this, I notice Olivia Sanchez perk up, her entire face lighting up with ideas. No doubt she’s already thinking of how to create something her students will love. Evelyn Winters is scribbling notes furiously, probably planning how to incorporate flowers that will still be fresh for the ball. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, and I can almost see the gears turning in her head as she plots her path to victory.
Marcus Chen looks a bit overwhelmed, but there’s a determined set to his jaw. He’s tapping his pen against his notepad. Despite his initial nervousness, there’s a glimmer of excitement in his eyes that makes me think he might be a dark horse in this competition.
And Logan? When I dare to glance his way, I find him looking thoughtful. Those green eyes focused on Victoria as if he’s already won this thing. There’s a quiet confidence about him that infuriates me for no apparent reason.
As soon as the final words are spoken and we applaud, Logan stands and leaves without a backward glance. I stare at him. Did he really just leave? Without a word? That seems so unlike him.
What is wrong with me? I shake my head, angry at myself for even noticing his behavior or changes in his behavior or that his sweater was soft enough to fall asleep on. I mean, not while he was wearing it, obviously. That would mean that we were napping together. I don’t nap with anyone. I hardly sleep these days. Why am I thinking about this? Why am I thinking about Logan at all, let alone feeling disappointed that he didn’t talk to me?
