Page 5

THREE

DANICA

D anica glanced up from her notebook, spotting Gerri's lime-green pantsuit gliding toward the gazebo. She lifted her hand in a friendly wave, then froze mid-gesture when she registered who accompanied the petite matchmaker.

Six-foot-something of pure masculine perfection walked alongside Gerri, moving with the confident ease of a man who owned every inch of ground beneath his feet.

His crisp white button-down had the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms, and his black dress pants hugged thighs powerful enough to make her mouth go strangely dry.

Dark brown hair, neatly trimmed beard, and eyes—were they green?

From this distance, she couldn't quite tell, but they seemed to immediately lock onto her with laser-like intensity.

A hot flush crawled up Danica's neck. His gaze made her feel simultaneously exposed and embraced, a sensation unfamiliar enough to set off alarm bells in her usually composed mind.

"Get it together," she whispered to herself, her heart tapping an embarrassingly rapid cadence against her ribs. "He's just a man. An unreasonably attractive man. In a small town. Who happens to be walking straight toward you."

Gerri's arrival couldn't come soon enough. Danica launched into speech the moment the matchmaker was within earshot.

"Gerri! I've been cataloging the festival area—there's significant work needed but nothing unmanageable.

" The words tumbled out as she flipped pages in her notebook.

"The stage needs reinforcing, the vendor stalls need assembly, and whoever ordered these decorations clearly didn't know what they were doing. "

She took a breath, refusing to acknowledge how the man's eyes traced the curves beneath her tailored charcoal dress. The appreciative heat in his gaze wasn't predatory or disrespectful—it felt more like admiration, like he'd discovered an unexpected masterpiece and couldn't look away.

"I've drafted three potential layouts based on what I've seen so far." She flipped more notebook pages, determinedly professional despite the warmth spreading through her body. "With proper delegation, we can?—"

"Danica," Gerri interrupted with a knowing smile, "allow me to introduce Asher Ectorius, the town mayor."

Danica's stomach performed an acrobatic flip. The man wasn't just gorgeous, he was in charge here.

"And Alpha of the town's dragon clutch," Gerri added with a glint in her eye.

Dragon shifter. Mayor. Alpha. The combination sent an electric current zipping down Danica's spine.

"Asher, this is Danica Ulrich. She's orchestrated events for top local businesses, several celebrity shindigs, and once salvaged a wedding after a hurricane destroyed the venue—with six hours' notice."

Danica blinked at the effusive praise. "That's a bit of an exaggeration?—"

"It's not," Gerri insisted. "She's being modest. Danica is the finest event planner in the South, possibly the country. Her creativity under pressure is legendary. You couldn't be in better hands for the Founders Festival."

The way Asher looked at her made Danica feel like she could organize the Olympics with a paperclip and dental floss. His eyes—definitely green, a deep forest shade that seemed almost luminous—studied her with an intensity that made her pulse flutter.

"Miss Ulrich." His voice was deep velvet that resonated in her chest. He extended his hand that dwarfed her own. "Your reputation precedes you."

The moment their fingers touched, a spark—not metaphorical, but an actual tiny static shock—jumped between them. Danica nearly jerked her hand back, but Asher's grip gently tightened, holding her in place for a heartbeat longer than courtesy required.

"I hope Gerri hasn't oversold my abilities," Danica managed, hyperaware of the warmth of his palm against hers. "Though I do love a challenge."

His mouth curved into a smile that transformed his already handsome face into something devastating. "I have a feeling Gerri understated them."

Wait. The pieces suddenly clicked together in her mind.

"Are you the current event planner?" she asked, glancing from him to the disaster zone behind him and Gerri.

Asher's shoulders—broad enough to block out the morning sun behind him—shifted in what might have been embarrassment.

"I excel at many things," he admitted, his gaze never leaving hers. "But festival planning isn't among them."

"Fortunately," Gerri interjected cheerfully, "complementary skills are the foundation of all great partnerships."

Danica caught the undercurrent in Gerri's words but focused on the task at hand. Working closely with this man would test her concentration, but the challenge only heightened her determination. This was a professional opportunity—nothing more.

Even if her body seemed determined to remind her that it had been far too long, if ever, that she'd felt this immediate attraction to anyone.

"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 have forty-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.

"What exactly did she mean by that?" Danica ventured, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Asher's gaze shifted to her, the full force of his attention making her heart race. His eyes traveled from her face down to her slender fingers clutching her notebook, then back up again with quiet appreciation.

"It means," he said, his voice a deep rumble, "that we have a festival to plan. Together."

Danica opened her mouth, but the words died in her throat as a splintering crack split the air.

Twenty feet away, a team of volunteers struggled with an enormous wooden archway—the festival entrance.

The structure wobbled precariously, tilting sideways as one of the main support beams gave way.

A young man perched on a ladder scrambled for balance, his tools clattering to the ground.

Time slowed to a crawl as Danica watched the massive beam slide free from its moorings. It was falling—directly toward her.

Before her brain could fully process the danger, strong arms scooped her off her feet.

The world spun in a blur of color and motion as Asher lifted her effortlessly, cradling her against a chest so solid it felt like a wall of warm granite.

For a fraction of a second, her body registered his heat, the clean scent of his skin, and the powerful thud of his heart against her side.

Then he was setting her down gently beyond the danger zone, his movements precise and hurried.

"Stay here," he commanded, already turning away.

Danica barely had time to catch her breath before Asher lunged forward, his body moving with preternatural speed.

He caught the falling beam in mid-air, his muscles bunching beneath his shirt as he took the full weight of the timber.

The fabric strained across his shoulders, the seams visibly testing their limits.

"Down now," Asher barked to the blonde man on the ladder, his voice cutting through the chaos with absolute authority. "Joe, grab that brace. Sam—get me another rope."

The volunteers responded instantly, jumping to follow his directions without question. The man on the ladder scrambled down while others rushed to secure the structure. Danica stood transfixed, her pulse hammering as she watched Asher hold the massive beam steady with seemingly minimal effort.

His face showed no strain, just focused determination as he repositioned the timber with controlled strength. When one of the volunteers fumbled with a rope, Asher guided him with calm precision.

"Loop it twice around the joint—that's it. Pull it tighter."

Within minutes, the arch stood solid once more, and the welcome banner unfurled across its span in a flutter of bright fabric. The crisis had been averted so efficiently that several townspeople passing by hadn't even noticed the near-disaster.

The male volunteer with blonde hair approached Asher, his face pale. "Thanks, Alpha," he said, his voice slightly trembling.

Asher clapped him on the shoulder. "No one gets hurt under my watch." His tone was matter-of-fact, not boastful.

Danica remained rooted to the spot, her professional composure momentarily shattered.

Her body hummed with residual adrenaline—and something else she wasn't ready to name.

The memory of being held against that broad chest, lifted as if she weighed nothing.

.. The sensation lingered like a physical imprint on her skin.

Asher approached her, concern evident in the slight furrow of his brow. "You okay?"

Danica forced herself to breathe normally, gathering the scattered fragments of her usual wit. "Remind me to stay on your good side," she said with a smile that didn't quite hide her racing pulse.

"I wasn't showing off," he said, misreading her expression.

"I didn't think you were." She glanced at the now-secure archway. "Though if that was your idea of thoroughly convincing me you need help with this festival, it was pretty effective."

His lips quirked up at the corners. "If I wanted to do that, I would have let the beam fall on the funnel cake stand."

"Destroying perfectly good carnival food?" Danica gasped in mock horror, then smiled. "That would've sold me for sure."

The tension between them shifted, warming into something that felt dangerously like attraction.

Standing there in the dappled afternoon light, with the scent of sawdust and her own lavender perfume mingling in the air, Danica suddenly found herself unable to remember all the logical reasons why developing feelings for this man would be a terrible idea.