Page 28 of I Love a Good Challenge

We still haven’t broken eye contact, and my hands hover just above her shoulders. “I’m going to need to touch your neck to get at the buttons. I won’t touch you more than I have to. Is that okay?”

At this, she looks at the carpet, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I wait for her answer. More than just the opportunity to touch her again, this moment is the chance to know, on some level, she still trusts me enough to let me.

In the mirror, she meets my eyes once more and nods. The lighting in the room makes her eyes look greyer with hardly a trace of the lavender color that only seems to appear like a solar eclipse—rare but sightworthy when it does.

Slowly and carefully, I press my fingers to the tiny buttons, more than a half dozen of them mocking me. My fingers tense, begging me to commit to memory every detail of this moment. As I struggle to undo one of the elastics caught around a satin button, my thumb slips and taps the bare top of her back. Lily sucks in a breath, and I immediately drop my hands.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to . . .” I begin. I’m cut off by Lily’s hand reaching for my own. The ends of her fingers wrap around mine. Our gaze connects in the mirror, and I spot the glisten in her eyes.

“I know.” She takes a deep breath. “I know.”

I shake my head and try again. I notice details I never noticed before. I marvel at the tiny pieces of her hair that have fallen from her ponytail, the edges tracing the curve of her neck. The hair on her arms is standing at attention. Her spine shivers when I make it to the bottom of the row, and my fingers release the fabric.

“All set. You’re free.” I try to flash her a grin in the mirror, anything to lighten the moment.

Lily turns toward me, one hand holding the now open collar so it doesn’t fall forward. The other hangs loosely at her side. “Thank you,” she says.

I severely dislike how small she sounds. I want to tell her I would still be more than kind to her if she’d let me.

“No problem,” I reply, even though we both know it’s not true. Being near her is a problem. For both of our hearts.

She walks toward the dressing area. I turn to leave when I hear her footsteps stall. Looking back to make sure she’s okay, I see we’ve struck the same pose but mirror each other. Her chin is over her shoulder, eyes heavy.

“You were kind to me just now”—a long pause—“and I know I don’t deserve it.” She says it so matter-of-factly, but I don’t miss the sincerity in her tone. And then she’s gone, the swish of the fabric of her dress fading as my heartbeat rings in my ears.

Chapter Eleven

Graham

Ordinance number one,” Clark speaks toward the crowd assembled in the Town Hall meeting room.

Though Clark is the owner of Aesop’s Tavern, he is presiding over this eccentric town meeting. I was strongly advised by Rafe to put in an appearance at tonight’s event.

“You won’t regret it,” he informed me with a wink and a few more French sayings thrown in that I still don’t understand. “Plus, it’s good to show your face around town. Become part of the culture here so they don’t think you are a stuck-up city boy.”

So here I am. Clark stands at the front of the room behind a folding card table over which a crooked plastic tablecloth is thrown. The scene is a bit informal. He does have an official name plaque, though, and a gavel. So, color me impressed. If I hadn’t had the experience of living in a small town, I’m not sure I would believe these types of meetings actually exist in real life. Of course, I am familiar with the premise because of Gilmore Girls—which Lily made me promise I would watch (and I did).

Right off the bat, I can see that, instead of a Taylor, this corner of New England has a Clark, who wears vests instead of sweaters and owns a tavern instead of a grocery store. He must be good at keeping his cool, though, because everyone keeps voting him in to the position of moderator.

Currently, I find myself squished beside Lily, who seems to have decided to torment me by plopping down on the empty chair to my right. The old part of me is delighted to be this close to her, while the new one is screaming to be cautious and back away as quickly as possible. The little wooden seats I worry might buckle under my weight aren’t helping my comfort levels either. Sparrow and Rafe are sitting together to my left.

I’m doing my best to concentrate on Clark’s booming voice. Meanwhile, I’m distracted by a game of bingo being played a few rows and diagonally ahead of us by a group of four seniors who have set up shop, complete with clipboards and dabbers. I’m trying to figure out how this isn’t being shut down immediately. They’re trying to quietly call out the letters and numbers, and it’s distracting.

“B12!” whispers an older woman I’ve never seen before.

“D42.”

“That’s how you do it!” I catch an old-school cabbage patch move while I attempt to tune them out and listen in to the main event.

Clark’s voice carries loudly into the crowd. “An anonymous Birch Borough resident proposes that Liam should not be able to use the lookout point near the bridge to film videos of his cat, A-cat-pella.”

“Hey! That’s his favorite spot!” Liam leaps up, his fist in the air. A hushed murmur passes over the room. The dramatic scene would be very inspiring if I didn’t know it was all for a cat.

“You should be in one of his videos,” Lily deadpans beside me.

“Is that a challenge?” I grit out with a grin despite my horror. No part of me wants to be in a video with a cat, but this woman isn’t shy about pushing my limits. She’s brilliant but brutal in the best of ways, and I know she’d relish watching me suffer on any social media platform with a feline, especially since she knows I love dogs.

“Oh, you bet your bottom dollar it’s a challenge,” Lily practically squeals with restrained delight.

---