25

  DON’T RAIN ON MY PARADE

  I might want to ignore the future, but time keeps chasing us, relentlessly. I realize just how fast when Travis calls me at work a few days later.

  “Hey,” I pick up.

  “Morning, sunshine, where are you? At work on a Sunday, as usual?”

  “A sweltering hot Sunday, I might add. I’m presently trudging between shooting locations.”

  “Don’t you have an army of golf carts on set?”

  “Yes, but for whatever reason, I thought it’d be a good idea to exercise.”

  “At noon?”

  “It was fine when I did it this morning.” I stop in the shade of a tree because, in this heat, I can’t walk and talk at the same time. And I need to preserve my fluids to make it to the community barn alive.

  “Can’t you ask someone for a ride?”

  “They went ahead because I said I was fine walking.”

  “Please tell me you aren’t wearing a pair of your ridiculous shoes.”

  I peek at my gladiator boots and sigh. “Don’t make me lie to you.”

  “Okay, Baker, I don’t want to know.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because most of your shoes, apart from being ridiculous, have dangerous side effects.”

  “Such as, Mr. Mayor?”

  “I’ll have a presentation ready for you when you get home.”

  “Mmm, I’ll be sure to take notes. Anyway, I should be done early. Meet at your place?”

  “Yes, but that wasn’t why I was calling.”

  “Why, then?”

  “Do you want to go to the parade together tomorrow?” he asks.

  I frown. What parade? Travis can’t possibly mean… I check the date on my phone and, yep, today’s the third of July. Independence Day is tomorrow. I’ve been in Emerald Creek for almost a month already?

  Really? Where did the time go?

  It got lost, mostly between Travis’s sheets.

  “Sure,” I say.

  “Great. I have a few mayorly duties, but I should be free most of the day.”

  It turns out our definitions of a ‘few mayorly duties’ are vastly different. Independence Day starts at sunrise with the distant boom of a cannon accompanied by chiming church bells as our wake-up call. Then Travis’s schedule kicks in with his first engagement of the day: a flag-raising ceremony followed by a pancake breakfast—the food part is admittedly enjoyable except maybe for the 6 a.m. timing aspect.

  The parade takes place at ten. Travis has to officially commence the event and then preside over the drum and bugle corps competition as one of the judges. Battalions of costume-period soldiers parade before the judges’ dais, making me wonder how those poor fake troopers can bear to wear such heavy costumes in this heat. I don’t join Travis on the dais, but keep off to the side in its shade. By the time the last corps passes, the air is filled with such noise, I can barely hear myself think. Drums beating, fake guns firing, and a few early firecracker explosions. Flags wave a salute while patriotic songs are played on trumpets, horns, or whatever other brass musical instrument people found in their basements this morning.

  After the noise-filled morning, lunch takes us to the BBQ and grill festival where Travis, once again, has to be a judge for the best rack of ribs competition. Personally, if I had to choose how to spend one of the hottest lunch hours of the year, I definitely wouldn’t be trudging across the fumes of at least fifty different grills.

  The early afternoon is taken up by a River Raft Regatta. Bands of locals have teamed up to build the most extravagant rafts and race each other down the river. More than a few float-boats sink halfway through the race to the total delight of their crews, who enjoy the refreshing dip in the emerald waters.

  A tractor ride is next, and, at 8 p.m. sharp, the fireworks show begins. The sky blazes with colors in every shade. Fireworks burst into brilliant stars above our heads and cascade toward the ground in scintillating streams. Thundering booms surround us as fireworks explode and explode, spitting colored smoke and glittering sparks into the sky. The smell of gunpowder and smoke fills the air, leaving an aftertaste of salt on my lips. The crowd claps and shouts, cheering and gasping in awe at the pyrotechnic magic.

  When the fireworks show is over, I’m convinced there can’t possibly be another engagement, but that’s when Travis drags me to the last ceremony of the day: a Chinese lantern launch.

  What feels like the entire town gathers in an open grass field as volunteers distribute the lanterns.

  I stink of smoke and sulfur and I’m exhausted—probably too tired even for sex tonight, but when Travis takes me into his arms to slow dance under the stars, I decide this is the best Independence Day I’ve ever had.

  A volunteer arrives, and Travis grabs two lit lanterns. He hands me one, saying, “Make a wish when you let it go.”

  The cool night air, the sky full of twinkling stars, the rustle of the grass in the wind, all make me shiver. I let my lantern free to soar up into the air, wishing for a million more days like this one…

  26

  CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

  The next day I receive definitive proof Chinese lanterns are very poor wish-granting instruments.

  I’m sitting in the middle of my usual Monday meeting—moved to a Tuesday to accommodate yesterday’s holiday—when Lionel Trumeau proudly announces, “With fast set construction here, and no more hiccups during the public space shootings, we’re going to finish filming earlier than expected and get back to our original schedule. If the weather cooperates, we should be able to wrap up the production in a month or less.”

  The words sink into my gut like a double-edged dagger.

  My face contorts. In pain? Horror? Disbelief? Maybe all three and plenty more.

  Lionel narrows his eyes and asks, “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” I reply. “I mean, that’s great news.”

  “Of course it is,” Lionel Trumeau says. “That’s why you look like you’re about to throw up.”

  “No, really I’m okay,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’m just overwhelmed with relief. Winthrop will be over the moon when I tell him.” I gesture to the room at large. “Good job, team. If that’s all from you, Lionel, we can move on to the art department.”

  The director still looks sideways at me but agrees with a stiff nod. Better he thinks I’m impossible to please rather than sniff out the truth.

  “Margaret,” I say. “You have the floor.”

  The key scenic artist begins to speak, and I manage to sit through the rest of the meeting, resisting the urge to projectile vomit up my breakfast.

  A month? That’s all I’ve left in Emerald Creek? I was supposed to get more! More time. More Travis.

  It’s not fair. The thought of leaving sickens me inside. Bitterness sucks me into a black hole of despair until my vision literally blackens around the edges. I look from face to face. Everyone’s smiling and making plans. The room spins.

  As soon as the meeting is over, I dash out of the barn. I make it to the line of parked golf carts, grab one, and flee to the safety of my office.

  I storm inside, half hyperventilating.

  I want to cry. I want to yell. I want to punch something.

  But I don’t. I just settle for wiping the corners of my eyes with my fingers.

  I need to get control. I need to focus. I need to pull myself together. And I need to tell Travis.

  When I pull up into his yard that night, I don’t honk in greeting. It seems too cheerful a gesture for the bomb I’m about to drop on us.

  I walk up the porch steps, and as usual, find the door unlocked.

  I push my way in, calling, “Travis!”

  A second later, he appears from the living room. He’s wearing a blue unbuttoned shirt rolled up at the sleeves and a pair of sweatpants. The mere peek at his bare chest is enough to set a zing of excitement loose in my body. But tonight I’m not here for sexy times, right?

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Travis greets, looking me up and down.

  “Hey, yourself. Is this a bad time?” I ask, half hoping he’ll say yes and tell me to leave so that we won’t have to have The Talk.

  “No, I was just getting changed.”

  “And you went for the bare-chest look?”

  Travis waggles his eyebrows. “You like it.”

  Maybe too much. I want to reply with another joke, but my lower lip treacherously trembles.

  Travis is at my side in a few quick strides. “What’s wrong, Baker?” he asks as he hugs me to his chest.

  His warmth, his comforting presence, and the fact that I’ve had to keep my feelings in check all day finally become too much and I sob my heart out, ugly crying into his shirt.

  I feel the tension in his body. The need to ask what’s wrong, but also the will to leave me space and time to tell him when I’m ready. He holds me tighter but says nothing.

  Travis’s strong arms feel so good on me that I never want to let go. But I have to. I’m not sure how long I cry, but it seems like forever. When I finally get a grip on my nerves, I pull back.

  I sniff and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, saying, “I have to go back to New York.”

  His forehead creases. “What?”

  “I… I’m leaving early. A month, maybe less.” I pause, trying to calm myself. I’m such a mess, I’m sure he can’t understand me. “I just found out. I mean, this morning. I have a month left.”

  Travis’s face crumbles as though he’s been hit with a body blow.

  “A month?” he asks, his voice pitched with surprise.

  I nod.

  His gaze is intense, and I know he’s looking for answers. “It’s not what I want,” I admit.

  “But you’re going to leave anyway.”

  Going straight for the throat, I see.

  I pull at the collar of my blouse. “It’s too hot in here. Can we go talk outside on the porch?”

  Travis gives me a stiff nod and precedes me out the door.

  We sit on the swing, contemplating the view in silence for a few crushing heartbeats until I can’t stand it any longer. I grab his hand and say again, “I don’t want to go, obviously. But I’ve racked my brain all day trying to imagine my life in Emerald Creek and I’ve come to the conclusion—which is crazy, believe me—that I could give up New York for you…”

  Travis’s head snaps to me, his eyes burning with hope.

  “Yes, I’d miss the city, the vibe, the energy, the buzz, the unlimited choices, and my friends. But I could live with seeing them less, maybe only on the occasional girl trip. I mean, if we survived a year in lockdown with video chats, we can do it again…”

  “But…?” Travis asks.

  “But.” I sigh. “I’ve spent years building my career, making a name for myself in the movie industry. And no matter how many times I try to rack my brain about it, I can’t find anything that would suit me in this town… professionally, I mean.”

  “If I could leave my job and come to New York, I’d resign tomorrow. But I can’t leave my mom.”

  “I know, and I would never ask you to.”

  Travis squeezes my hand, his voice breaking as he says, “So what now?”

  “I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “I mean, this thing between us is so new I don’t even know what it is.” I kiss his knuckles. “But I know I don’t want it to end. I want to enjoy every minute we have while I’m still here.”

  He stiffens at the implication, and drops my hands, his balling into fists. “And after that?”

  “Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean we have to end things,” I continue, rushing to get everything out. “We can still see each other. We can still talk to each other. I’m not a fan of long-distance relationships, and I know you had a terrible experience before, but I can’t make a life-changing decision on the heels of a whirlwind summer romance…” I trail off.

  “A summer romance? Is that what you think this is?” He flips a finger between us. “I love you.”

  The air in my lungs disappears.

  “That’s right,” he growls. “I love you. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I love you, Samantha Baker. I love your brains, your kindness, your talent, and how you challenge me. I love your stupid shoes and your short skirts. I love the way you pout when you’re mad and the twinkle in your eyes when we banter. I love everything about you.”

  I struggle to find my voice. “What?”

  “I love you, and I don’t want to lose you,” he continues. “I don’t care where you work or what your plans are, I want to be with you.”

  If I weren’t sitting, I’d be on the floor. “You love me?” I ask, as if I’d misheard him.

  “Yeah,” he replies, his eyes flashing with fear and hope. “I love you. I think I have for a while, but I pushed it away because of your job. And I thought you didn’t feel the same way.”

  My heart pushes the words out faster than my brain can process. “I love you, too,” I tell him. “I really do.”

  I lean in and before our lips touch, I murmur again, “I’m in love with you, Travis.”

  We kiss like we’re trying to inhale each other. Travis pulls away only to murmur against my mouth, “I love you so, so much.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t growl it out this time.”

  Travis smiles against my lips, and in the most tender voice whispers, “I love you.”

  He runs a finger down my cheek and then kisses me again. I love the way he kisses me. I love the way the world disappears when I’m with him. I love him. I love him. I love him!

  A sort of hysterical laughter bubbles out of me.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I might have to learn how to bake for real.”

  Travis raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “If I have to change careers, what else am I going to do around here?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “But we’ll figure it out together. We’ll take as much time as you need and we’ll figure it out.”

  Travis kisses my cheek, my forehead, my nose, my chin, my forehead again.

  Sighing, I lean against him.

  “I love you,” I tell him again.

  There’s a long silence and then, “I love you, too.”

  27

  THE SUN FOR SORROW WILL NOT SHOW HIS HEAD

  On my last full day in Emerald Creek, I wake at dawn to the sound of rain pattering against the closed window. Gray weather to reflect my blue mood. Merely three weeks have passed since Travis and I declared our love for each other, but the movie is already complete. Most of the production crew left yesterday, and all I could do was steal an extra day to say goodbye.

  Irony of ironies, right?

  I’ve spent all this time obsessing over ways to find a job in Emerald Creek and have always come out empty-handed. And so tomorrow I go back to New York.

  “Is it time to get up?” I murmur sleepily.

  “No, baby. Go back to sleep.”

  Travis pulls me against him, and I snuggle in, dozing off once more.

  When I wake again, the rain is still pattering against the house, thunder rumbling in the distance. I’m curled into Travis’s side, a leg thrown across his, my hand resting just above the steady thrum of his heartbeat while he sleeps peacefully.

  His face is a work of art. That perfectly straight nose and defined jaw. The lips that give so much pleasure. Even in his sleep, his mouth is curved at the corners. That grin that, when turned on me, makes my stomach feel like I’m free-falling. Golden lashes hide his hazel-green eyes. I study the barely visible crinkle around them now that his expression is relaxed. Gosh, I love his face.

  I take another look out the window. The weather hasn’t improved, and neither has my mood. But Travis and I still have one day and one night together, and I’m going to make the most of it.

  I pull the sheet down his body, taking my time and reveling in the view. For a lawyer turned mayor, he has more the body of a farmer or a construction worker. Powerful broad shoulders, a flat-muscled chest and stomach, and strong, athletic thighs. The mayor looks like someone who spends his days outside, working with his hands and not stuck behind a desk for most of his time. Guess Duncan knows what he’s doing if he can achieve such perfection with a few training sessions a week. I must remember to send the sheriff a thank you note before I leave.

  Travis opens an eyelid and catches me staring. “What are you thinking about, Baker?”

  “Actually, I was thinking about Duncan,” I say teasingly.

  Travis rolls on top of me and pins me to the mattress. “You’re in bed with me and you’re thinking about another man?”

  “The sheriff is also your personal trainer.” I free one of my hands and trail it down his chest. “I was sending him a silent gratitude message for all this.” I skim my fingertips over his ripped abs, exploring.

  In response, Travis rains kisses down on me, soon followed by gentle nibbles down my neck, across my jaw. When his lips finally find mine, they ignite a fire that, in no time, builds into a scorching inferno of need.

  Thunder rumbles outside the window as we make love. His eyes never leaving mine as we become one.

  Later, when I come to, it feels like hours have passed. Travis’s arm is still wrapped around me, pulling me tighter against him. I grab my phone from the nightstand and squint at the digits.

  “It’s nine o’clock!” I gasp. “We slept in.”

  Travis grunts in reply.

  I press my face to his and whisper, “Don’t you have to go to work?”

  “I took the day off.”

  “You did?” My eyes widen.

  “Yep.” With his free hand, he brushes the hair away from my forehead. “I thought we should spend our last day together.”

  “Lucky me.” I kiss his stubble-covered jaw. “Any plans in particular?”

  Travis stares out the window at the plum sky. “How about breakfast to start?”