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Then I gave my head a shake. I didn’t want my brain to equate happiness with hooking up with Will. I also didn’t want my daughters thinking that I needed a man to feel fulfilled.

What I needed to be happy was to focus on my blog.

I snapped a photo of my Bordeaux next to the flickering fire. That was as close as I was getting to romance. Maybe it would suffice for my readers.

I knew it wouldn’t.

No, what I really needed was to get a life, not imagine one with Will Archer. I’d show my readers how happy I was.

I texted my sister.

It was only a half-second before she responded with a phone call.

“An actual night out!” Reese squealed.

I laughed. “You sound pleased.”

“Pleased? I’m over the flipping moon! There’s a new coffee shop opening in Millerville and they’re having their grand opening on Friday. Apparently, they’re going to be a music venue too. I actually got the day off work.”

I smiled at Reese’s mention of the music. “Sounds awesome,” I said. I was already envisioning posting a few photos of the opening to the blog. I could write up a special article on ‘evening coffee shop fare’. Late-night cakes, tarts, and fancy coffees. And the readers would see me actually having fun.

“Okay well, let me just ask Hank and Casey if they’re up for watching the girls on Friday,” I said.

“Oh no,” Reese said, her voice falling. “Sadie told me she and Chris are going out to this event too. It’s’ her and Chris’s first date night since little Lucy was born. I’m pretty sure she said Casey is watching her this weekend?”

My stomach sank. I’d met Sadie only once—she was Casey’s good friend, and she ran the vintage shop in town, which was how Reese knew her, from practically setting up camp in the shop since she’d arrived.

“So… I guess that means you can’t go?” Reese asked. I could hear the disappointment in her voice.

My eyes went to the card on my fridge.

Hank and Casey weren’t the only ones who could help. Nerves danced in my stomach even as I said the words.

“No. I have another babysitter I can ask.”

5

Will

Mayor Fred Billingsly had been talking about golf for five minutes straight. I know because I’d timed him.

Surreptitiously, of course, with the ostentatious gold clock he kept on his giant mahogany desk. I stifled a yawn, shifting in my seat and hearing my back crack.

There were a hundred things I needed to do. Listening to the mayor wax poetic about golf wasn’t one of them. If I was mayor, I don’t think I’d spend a day in this office. I’d be out there making Barkley Falls a better place.

I glanced at Fred’s sweeping windows behind him. Outside, the sky was already darkening. Wind whipped orange leaves on the giant oak tree outside Barkley Falls’ town hall.

For a moment I was taken back to the park last week. The way the leaves had blown around Michelle like she was some kind of autumnal angel.

My stomach flipped even at the thought of her.

Not good.

“I told Bill a five-iron was the way to go…” Fred droned on.

Anyone else and I would have cut that shit off immediately. I didn’t have patience for long-windedness. But as town manager, I reported to the mayor, and if I wanted to keep my job which, if I was being honest with myself,no longer held quite the same thrill for me as it used to, especially right at this moment, I needed to let him go on at least a bit longer.

Maybe I should even pay attention. Maybe golf would help me keep Michelle Franco out of my damn head.