Page 9

"Well," Danica said, squaring her shoulders and lifting her notebook, "let's see what we have to work with, Mayor Ectorius."

"Asher," he corrected, his voice lowering to a register that seemed to vibrate through her bones. "If we're going to save this festival together, I think we can drop the formalities."

As they walked down Main Street, Danica's initial optimism began to crumble. Her heels clicked against the cobblestone as she jotted notes in her notebook, circling problems and drawing arrows to potential solutions. She'd initially thought this would be manageable—challenging but doable. That was before Asher started sharing his vision.

"The festival should have fire dancers here," Asher gestured toward an empty patch of grass. "And over there, we need a thirty-foot maypole with ribbons that change colors every hour."

Danica stared at him. "A color-changing maypole? In two days?"

"The maypole represents the ancestral connection to our homeland," Asher explained, his broad shoulders squaring with pride. "And there should be a flight demonstration?—"

"A what?"

"A symbolic flight path," he amended quickly, "projected onto that building with lasers." He pointed to a tall brick building at the end of Main Street. "And we need the stage big enough for all the elders to sit on while the younger clutch members perform the Ritual of?—"

"Let me stop you right there." Danica tapped her pen against her notebook. "I understand you have a vision, but we haveforty-eight hours, probably less now. You've set up practically nothing except some wobbly tables and half-assembled vendor stalls."

Asher's green eyes narrowed. "I've been collecting materials for months."

"Collecting isn't assembling." She gestured to a pile of lumber. "Those boards aren't going to nail themselves together."

His jaw tightened. "I had plans drawn up weeks ago."

"Plans aren't execution." Danica felt her blood start to heat. Something about this man pushed her buttons—and not just the ones that made her hyperaware of the way his crisp shirt pulled across his chest when he gestured. "We need to be practical."

"Practical?" His voice dropped dangerously low. "This festival celebrates centuries of dragon traditions. It can't just be 'practical.'"

"I'm not suggesting a potluck in the church basement," Danica countered. "But color-changing ribbons and laser light shows? We'd need permits, equipment?—"

"I'm the mayor. I approve the permits."

"Okay, well, the equipment still requires operators. And the set-up takes time." She pointed to her watch. "Which we don't have a lot of."

Gerri stepped between them, her lime-green pantsuit a visual punctuation mark. "That's why you're here, sweetheart—to save the day. To bring Asher's vision to life with a few of your own creative ideas mixed in."

Asher ran his hands through his hair, his frustration rolling off him in almost palpable waves. "I had a great vision for this festival, and I want it done that way. It needs to be perfect." He paused, a fierce determination flashing across his features. "Perfect for my clutch and my ancestors since this is the most important event of the year for our town."

He turned to face both women, his stance widening, commanding the space around them. "On second thought, this partnership just isn't going to work."

"Oh, now don't be so sensitive, Asher," Gerri chided.

"It's not about sensitivity," Asher growled. "The advisory council specifically said I have to do this myself. I really shouldn't be going behind their backs and getting outside help just because I'm a little behind schedule."

Danica opened her mouth to speak, but Gerri spoke first, her blue eyes twinkling with mysterious knowledge.

"You and I both know that's not all they said now, is it?"

The cryptic statement hung in the air. Danica glanced between them, sensing an undercurrent she couldn't identify. Whatever Gerri meant, Asher clearly understood. His shoulders dropped a fraction, resignation replacing defiance.

"Fine," he muttered, not elaborating further.

Gerri beamed victoriously, smoothing her pantsuit. "Well then, I believe my work here is done. Asher isn't allowed to have help from someone like me. So, I'll have to excuse myself now and leave him in your very capable hands, Danica."

Before Danica could sputter a response, Gerri turned on her designer heels and strode away, her diminutive figure somehow exuding absolute authority.

"Wait—Gerri!" Danica called, but the matchmaker just waved without turning around.

Suddenly alone with Asher in the town square, Danica felt acutely aware of his imposing presence. The early afternoon sun caught his profile, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes as he watched Gerri depart. Whatever silent communication had passed between them remained a mystery.