A gush of wind rustles the leaves of the nearby trees, bringing a respite from the unrelenting heat and carrying the smell of wet earth and water.

  I track a family of ducks as they float among the weeds, passing a group of turtles sunning themselves on a white-washed, knobby log of driftwood at the water’s edge. Then my eyes drift to the end of the log, where, tangled in together with an old fishing line, a plastic bag is swaying in the wind. Next to it, cigarette butts and bottle caps pepper the golden sand. And beer cans lie abandoned in the grass.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Travis’s voice makes me jump.

  I take another look at the trash littering the shore and sigh. “I don’t approve of your methods, but I get why you wanted this place cleaned.”

  And with that, I brandish the grabber and pick up a discarded water bottle. Travis holds the trash bag open for me and I drop it in.

  The work is repetitive and monotonous. After a while of having Travis follow me quietly around, I feel less guarded about him and more bored by our task, so I ask, “What do you miss most about New York?”

  “The vibe, the energy, my old job, the bagel cart outside my office…” He shrugs. “Everything.”

  “I thought you said at your mother’s that you didn’t want to live to work.”

  Travis grimaces. “I can’t tell her I came back just for her, she’d never have it. So corporate burnout is my official line and I’d like it to stay that way.”

  I nod. “Don’t worry, I’m not telling.” I drop a used condom in the bag and study him for a second. “You’re the weirdest lawyer, cowboy, mayor I’ve ever met.”

  Travis flashes me a grin. “You know many?”

  “Only you, admittedly. So what was your old job like?”

  “Big firm, big cases. Gosh, I miss the thrill of walking into a courtroom, not knowing if I’ll be able to win over the jury.”

  I’ve got a feeling he had no troubles in that department.

  “And you can keep practicing while you’re the mayor.”

  “Neither job is that demanding.”

  I flash him a stare. “Unless you have to review permit applications, of course.”

  The mayor can hardly contain his smirk, but I choose to give him a pass—only this once.

  “Few big cases in Emerald Creek?” I ask.

  “Nope, besides the wills, it’s mostly estate planning, the occasional civil litigation, some neighbors’ squabbles, and in the saddest cases, bankruptcy.”

  “You had many of those?”

  “The pandemic didn’t help the economy around here. But I guess that’s true for just about any physical business on the planet. Starving movie producers included.”

  I point the grabber at him. “Careful, Mr. Mayor, just because movie-making is a money-rich industry, it doesn’t mean we didn’t suffer like everybody else.”

  “I wouldn’t dare to suggest otherwise.”

  Keeping quiet, I go back to clearing the trail of litter I’ve been absent-mindedly chasing to higher ground. When I can’t find any more droppings to pick up, I check my surroundings and suddenly realize we’re not standing next to the lake anymore but following a creek up a hill. The beach has given way to uneven terrain covered in undergrowth, and the reeds to trees and bushes hemming the meandering flow of water.

  Next, I realize that I have to pee—badly. All that water I drank earlier has reached my bladder and is threatening to have it explode. The sound of the water trickling over the rocks and twigs isn’t helping.

  We’re completely isolated. No tents in sight or other volunteers. I squeeze my legs, trying to gauge how long it’d take to get back to the chemical restrooms.

  “What’s the matter, Baker? You’re squirming.”

  “Nature’s calling,” I spit, embarrassed. “But I won’t make it back to the main tent in time.”

  “Why would you voluntarily shut yourself in a chemical toilet when you have the whole woods to yourself?”

  “I’m not exactly by myself.”

  “Oh, you mean me? I promise I’ll keep my eyes shut.” Travis puts a hand over his eyes and then peers between his fingers.

  I walk up to him, ordering, “Give me the bag.” I exchange it for the grabber and walk a few more yards uphill.

  When I can no longer see the mayor through the vegetation, I squat down behind a bush, hoping a chipmunk won’t mistake my exposed buns for its next meal.

  I clean myself with a tissue, throw it in the trash bag, and re-zip my pants.

  When I re-join the mayor, I find him lying on a rock, sunbathing. He’s resting on his elbows with his face tilted upward. His lids are closed, and he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  And the most horrible.

  I hate him, I remind myself.

  Are you sure?

  Ya-ah! Hate. Loathe. Despise.

  I clear my throat.

  Travis opens his eyes, tilts his head toward me, and smiles. Not his usual mocking smirk, but a smile with the power of a million suns. The air gets caught in my lungs, and for a moment I’m left breathless.

  “Should we head back to our section?” I croak. Clearing my voice, I add, “There isn’t much trash here. This area is clean.”

  “Actually, I wanted to show you something, if you don’t mind walking a few more yards uphill in those.”

  Travis jerks his chin at my sneakers.

  This man is treading a fine line, coming at my career first and now constantly attacking my shoes?

  “Why are you always criticizing my footwear?”

  “It’s just amazing that even your sneakers have heels.”

  I wiggle my foot at him. “These are wedges for your information.”

  He hops off the rock. “Is there a difference?”

  “An ocean.”

  “As long as you can keep up.” The mayor precedes me up the meandering dirt path.

  Without signposts or trailheads showing the right direction, I hurry after him before I get lost in one of the overgrown sections where the trail seems to disappear.

  With every step, I risk stumbling on the uneven ground. Gosh, I’m not made for strolls in uncontaminated nature. What am I even doing following this man I barely know into the forest? Up here, it’s only us and the squirrels scrabbling around the tree trunks.

  “Are you taking me deep into the woods to make me vanish without a trace?” I yell.

  “Sure, it’s what I do with all the beautiful newcomers,” he teases, throwing a smile over his shoulder. “That’s why there aren’t any left in town.”

  I’m alone with a man who’s making serial killer jokes and all I can hear is that he called me beautiful.

  “Don’t you want a little thrill?” Travis calls, climbing forward. “Something you can’t get in New York?”

  “The most adventurous thing that can happen to me in the city is getting my heel stuck in a grate, and I’m fine with that.”

  “Don’t worry,” Travis adds, disappearing behind a bend in the road. “We’re almost there.”

  I quicken my pace to keep up, and when I round the corner myself, I don’t expect Travis to have stopped in the middle of the trail. I stumble back, then counterbalance by leaning forward. Only I go too far and land with my nose in the nook between his neck and shoulders. Before I can stop myself, I inhale. He smells like forest and sunlight.

  “No need to fall at my feet, Baker.” His voice is low and teasing. The tone threatens to melt me while the comment makes me sizzle with indignation.

  I want to push him away, but before I can find proper footing again, Travis grabs me by the shoulders and spins me round to the most beautiful sight.

  A frothy cascade of water is falling into a plunge pool surrounded by rocky outcroppings. Lush grasses grow out of the rocks, plants and flowers with shiny leaves and foliage. The water sprays as it hits the pond, misting the air with tiny droplets of water while a million rainbows shimmer at the edge of my vision.

  “Welcome to Potawatomi Waterfall,” Travis breathes down my neck.

  A shiver runs down my spine even though I feel like I’m on fire. I’m not sure if the heat comes from the stroll uphill in the midday sun or from the searing touch of Travis’s hands on my bare upper arms.

  I need to break the body contact. I wiggle free with the excuse of going to check out the waterfall from a flat stone ledge that overlooks the pool.

  I can’t resist. I remove my shoes, socks, and dip my toes into the cold water.

  “You know, Baker, there’s a better way to cool off on a hot day,” Travis says behind me. I hear the shuffling of fabric, but don’t turn back. Next, the air beside me shifts as the mayor runs past me and dive-bombs into the pond.

  He reemerges, shaking water off his hair like a dog and then raking his fingers through his curls to free his forehead.

  “Come on,” he calls. “Jump in.”

  Nuh-uh, not a chance.

  I stand up and lock stares with the mayor. His hazel eyes taunt me. It’s a challenge.

  Still, I’m not jumping in the water with him. I’m not.

  Of their own accord, my fingers begin to unbutton my pants and lower the zipper.

  Never breaking eye contact with Travis, I shuffle out of my jeans and get rid of my tank top in one fluid movement.

  Before I lose my cool, I take a step forward and swan-dive next to him.

  13

  YOU HAVE TO KISS A LOT OF TOADS BEFORE YOU FIND A HANDSOME PRINCE

  The cool water is a delicious shock against my heated skin.

  I resurface, gasping for air, but can’t get a full breath because of the mayor splashing me.

  “Hey!” I scream, splashing him back.

  The fight is on. We relentlessly trade water bombs, and I’ve never laughed harder in my entire life. For every splash I give, I get two back, though. I’m so busy repelling attacks that I don’t notice Travis coming nearer. Before I can react, he dives below the surface, vanishing. Two seconds later, strong hands grab my ankles and pull me down so fast I barely have time for one last gulp of air before my head disappears underwater.

  When I break the surface again, I receive one last splash, and Travis says, “I won.”

  “You didn’t.” My voice comes out in an indignant squeak.

  “No?” He cocks his head to the side while water drips from the tips of his hair.

  “No.” I wipe the water from my eyes and grin.

  Travis looks me over. “You want more?”

  I do—I don’t.

  “I’m not sure what I want,” I say, my voice hoarse.

  I swim closer to him and trace the droplets of water on his left eyebrow with the tip of my finger. As soon as I touch his face, I can’t break the contact. I’m spellbound.

  “So,” I whisper, our faces inches from each other. “If not to make me disappear, is this where you bring women to seduce them?”

  “Oh, so now I’m seducing you?”

  “I don’t know, you tell me.”

  Travis’s gaze burns into mine, and I can see the indecision in his eyes.

  “You’re so beautiful, Baker.”

  The words are a soft whisper. So much so that I’m not sure if he said them or if I only imagined them.

  I bite my lower lip.

  The mayor tracks the movement. Then, as if losing an internal battle, his hand reaches for my waist underwater. His fingertips rest on the curve of my hip for a second before he pulls me flush against his chest. Travis threads the fingers of his other hand through my hair and tangles them behind my head. Then he tilts my face to his and kisses me.

  Travis’s kiss is soft, gentle, and promising. And he doesn’t press for more until I kiss him back. And then he takes his time, teasing me with his lips, and sending sparks all over my skin.

  I kiss him back until I’m breathless, until I can’t think of anything but him. My hands reach his shoulders and trail up his neck and into his wet hair. I hold on for dear life. I press myself against his body, and the kiss changes from sweet to hot.

  I moan, ready to bring things to the next level, when Travis pulls back and puts some distance between us.

  The mayor opens his eyes and looks down at me, his gaze dark and clouded. “You’ve no idea how much I want you.” The words aren’t a question.

  The sentiment is reciprocated, I’m right there with him. I can’t wait to tear off our underwear and go all the way. I kick my feet off the ground in an attempt to straddle the mayor. But instead of welcoming me into his arms, we engage in an awkward underwater battle where I try to get closer and he fights to stay apart.

  I frown, my thoughts still too hazy with lust to form words.

  “We can’t,” Travis says.

  “What?”

  Travis lets go of my hips and takes another step back.

  I suddenly become hyper-aware of how cold the water is.

  “You know we can’t.”

  I’m completely at a loss for words.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  The mayor is sorry for kissing me?

  “We should get out of the water.”

  Travis turns away and heads toward the rocky beach.

  I ignore the way the water slithers down his sculpted back and paddle-storm past him. With each step, tiny rocks stab at my bare feet, but I welcome the pain. It’s sobering. And right now, I need to regain some composure and come down from the high of the kiss.

  I arrive at the ledge first and start to grab my clothes.

  “You can’t get dressed,” Travis says.

  “Why not? You’ve made it abundantly clear you’re not interested in naked activities.”

  His gaze darkens and his jaw tenses, as if he has to exercise all his self-control not to cross the three feet of rock that still separates us and show me exactly how interested he is in naked activities.

  “If you put your clothes on now, they’ll get wet,” Travis explains, his tone unreadable. “And then everyone in town will know you took a dip with the mayor.”

  “Fine.” I accept he has a point and throw my clothes on the ground.

  I lie on the rock next to him, putting as much space between us as the ledge allows. I put my hands behind my head and close my eyes, quietly seething.

  “Are you mad at me, Baker?”

  “‘Are you mad at me, Baker?’” I mimic his words. “Yes, I’m mad at you.”

  “What for?”

  “You don’t take a woman to a waterfall, trick her into taking a dip with you, kiss her, and then announce you’ve no intention of taking the liaison any further.”

  “I thought you hated me.”

  “Hate and sexual attraction are not mutually exclusive, apparently.”

  The air next to me shifts, and I sense the full force of Travis’s gaze on me. But I stubbornly keep my eyes shut and my face tilted upward.

  “I’m only trying to spare us both heartache.”

  “I’m a big girl. I can keep sex and feelings separate.”

  “Maybe you can, but I’m not so sure I’d be able to,” he says in a whisper that punches me in the guts harder than a kick. “Not with a woman like you.”

  “Like me how?”

  “Smart, feisty… drop-dead gorgeous. Someone who hasn’t spent her entire life in Emerald Creek and knows there’s a world beyond this valley. Someone who’d laugh if I made a joke about riding the 4-train at rush hour. Or if I said the NYC Marathon is really just a bunch of people running away from Staten Island…”

  Despite myself, my lips curl up at the corners. I press them hard together.

  “See?” Travis says. “You get it; no one else around here would.”

  “Okay, so I’d laugh at your jokes. What’s so terrible about that?”

  “That you’re not here to stay.”

  I can’t argue with that. The mere idea of moving to a place like this makes me shudder—gorgeous waterfall and semi-naked mayor notwithstanding.

  “Got it, Mr. Mayor, our relationship will remain strictly professional from now on.”

  The second my underwear is dry, I stand up to get dressed.

  The mayor does the same next to me.

  I try to ignore his movements, to shield myself from his larger-than-life presence. But then I make the mistake of looking up. Travis is leaning against a tree, still bare-chested, while he pulls on his socks. As our gazes meet, I’m undecided if I want to slap him or slam him against that tree and make him reconsider his views on casual sexual relationships with outlanders.

  14

  HELL HAS NO FURY LIKE A WOMAN SCORNED

  The walk of shame downhill is humiliating. I’ve never thrown myself at a man like I did today with Travis, and I never got turned down so hard. Gosh, by the end I was practically begging for it.

  To rub salt into the wound, as we make our way back among the volunteers, many heads bend closer—clearly to whisper speculations.

  There’s no hiding the strange vibe between me and the mayor. Not to mention the way I must look. My usually impeccable, sleek bob is all tousled and messy. Think Bryce Dallas Howard at the beginning and then the end of Jurassic World.

  If I have to be gossiped about as Emerald Creek’s newest scarlet woman, I wish I had at least earned my letters.

  When we reach the main tent, I say, “I have to find Christian before the ticket draw.” Travis is still holding the trash bag. I take it from him, and add, “I’ll drop this off at the collection center.”

  The mayor seems to have a mind to state again how sorry he is. To spare myself the indignity of a man having to apologize twice for not wanting to have sex with me, I take my leave with a dry, “See you around.”

  I turn on my wedges and, after dropping the trash bag into the giant dumpster truck at the edge of the beach, I search for Christian. My best bet is to locate his security detail. As celebrities go, Christian isn’t overly fussy, but to mingle with a crowd as big as the one assembled today, I made bodyguards nonnegotiable.

  America’s number one heartthrob finds me first.