Page 35 of I Love a Good Challenge

His eyes water as he chews. My gaze catches on his lips, which I know are now covered in a level of spice that would bring me to my knees. As if they are a heat indicator, his eyes change shades of blue, his chest calmly rising and falling with his breath. With a soft clearing of his throat, Graham swallows. I feel my lips part with a sense of admiration. He’s not even sweating.

My chopsticks clatter to the table, and I shake my head. “When did you . . .? How are you . . .?”

He picks up another heaping bite of rice and curry and opens his mouth, the scruff on his face catching the light from overhead and casting his jaw into a surreal glow. I think I’m hallucinating.

I try to brush a piece of my hair from my face—the one that continuously seems to enjoy sliding out of my ponytail. I jump back when Graham’s hand slides a bobby pin across the table. And not just any bobby pin. The curved ones that I like. Startled, my eyes flash up to his, but he continues eating as if he didn’t just have a bobby pin that I know for a fact he doesn’t use waiting in the confines of his suit pocket.

“So, Lily,” he says after swallowing the bite. He hasn’t even touched his glass of water. “Are you in love with me yet?” His voice is light, but I hear the challenge in his tone.

“Don’t ask me that.” He knows I’m not allowed to lie. And yet, I’m not willing to admit the truth. “Besides, we both know I like to keep you humble.”

We lean in closer to each other across the table, our gaze flaring with a daring heat. I break etiquette protocol to have my elbows on the table for leverage. Graham matches my movements. Forgetting the food between us, I realize this is the fire I was worried about when I made the decision to eat with him. I wouldn’t be surprised if I combust after this moment. As our eyes lock, my heartbeat accelerates, and my mouth goes dry. I lick my lips and watch his eyes darken as they track the movement.

Sharply, I inhale. It seems to break the spell, the sound kicking his gaze back to his food. Graham clears his throat. Only then does he reach for his water, downing the whole glass before setting it back on the table with a clink.

And gosh, if there isn’t something tantalizing about a person you think you know surprising you. It’s not even the halftime mark for our challenges yet. At this rate, I’m not sure I’ll make it to the wedding with a win.

Chapter Thirteen

Graham

My mind is still reeling from Lily’s confession at the Town Hall meeting a few nights ago. She thinks I am a good man. I don’t know why I needed to know what she thought of me, but deep in my bones, I did.

I’ve spent the whole day trying to work through my inbox and decide the next steps in my career. Since Rafe made me his manager, I’ve had a chance to breathe and figure out what I want to do with my life. I’ve saved up enough to live comfortably for a while, but I know I will need a challenge soon. I like to feel like I’m winning. And while Rafe’s career and his creative happiness show me that I’m doing what he’s wanted me to do, managing one artist—and an easygoing one at that—feels like a piece of cake (not the kind that Lily makes) compared to previously falling asleep at my desk as I worked so late into the night.

Turns out, I like sound booths and studios much more than I ever loved a cubicle or courtroom, no matter how good I was at my job. The sense of finding justice in protecting Rafe’s creativity (while also using my legal expertise to bring restitution for songs that were once stolen from him) and maybe serving more artists in the future is satisfying in a way I couldn’t have predicted. It’s also helped to have a bit more time to wander and pretend I’m on some sort of sabbatical. Sure, after the wedding, we’ll work a bit harder to get him more tour dates if he’d like, but he’s been so happy songwriting that this different style of life has me considering getting us a property in Nashville to save on hotel bills.

My current daily distraction is recruiting various people from town to go to Sparrow’s Beret for me. Even though I was just there for the cake tasting, I’m still not sure I’m welcome to be a frequent patron. So, about once a day, I have someone run in and bring me something baked by Lily and a cappuccino. I know when Lily makes the coffee by the handwriting on the cup. Having something—no matter how small—that she made nearby is the best distraction while I work to figure out my future.

Today, I’m extra distracted by the fact that my mouth is still burning from the meal we shared yesterday. The curry was delicious but just as hot as I remember from visits to Thailand. Since I woke up this morning, I’ve eaten bread and milk, trying to cool the heat. I’m about to kindly beg Amara for some more coconut ice cream after I stop at the gift shop for a Mother’s Day gift for my mom. I’m planning to pick up a box of maple candy for her and some wild Maine blueberry jam.

I’m almost at the entrance when my phone rings. I pull it from my pocket casually. I half expect it to be Evan. The sound engineer in Nashville promised me news on the production progress of Rafe’s new single no later than this afternoon. A smile frames my face, but it drops quickly.

The call is from Lily.

My phone vibrates insistently. There’s no way Lily is really trying to call me. This call is either a prank or one of her challenges. Nothing good can come of giving in to her. Still, I slide my finger across the screen to answer.

“Lily?”

“George! I need you!” her voice yells into my ear through the phone.

I stop midstep, barely preventing myself from knocking into an outdoor table piled high with sale items in front of Elsa’s Golden Finds. I freeze on the sidewalk, my hand poised to pull open the door. I’ve been to this gift shop a few times. They sell everything from confections to personalized keychains and postcards.

Lily’s announcement that she needs me would usually send me into a fit of happiness that could break my persona of being a grown man. Either she’s lost her senses and is ready to confess her love, or she’s about to throw things. While I hope it’s the former, I’m not naive enough to let my mind wander. Sparrow and Rafe left for Nashville yesterday. I know something is wrong because there’s no way Lily’s first action after their departure would be to tell me she needs me. She wouldn’t do it now, not like this.

“George! Are you there?” The urgent pitch of her voice snaps me from my thoughts.

“Lily, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” I hear the sound of pans banging and clashing in the background and also a noise that sounds like running water.

She doesn’t answer my question. “Just get here—the bakery—now!”

Abruptly, the line is cut off. I veer course and rush toward the shop. I’m practically running through the street, my loafers slapping the pavement with sharp, steady thuds.

Grey waves at me through the window of her bookstore, but by the time I wave back, I’m already past the storefront. I’m a man on a mission. If Lily calls, I’m running to rescue her. My girl needs me.

When I arrive at the café, I find it locked. I tap on the window like a bird trying to get in. At first, the glare from the sunlight on the glass keeps me from seeing much of anything beyond the door. When I press my face into the glass, it takes all of two seconds to see that inside is pure mayhem.

Lily’s arms are flailing. At my insistent tapping, she rushes toward me. Within seconds, she’s at the door. She unlocks it for me to enter, beckoning me inside. For a second, I wish this was the sweet scene when Rachel and Ross from Friends have their moment. I’m quickly brought back to reality as Lily pulls me into the bakery, her grip like a vise on my arm.

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