Page 25 of Sweatpants & Sweet Tea

Now that I was up close, I could see that it was Daphne; her hair was in a bun on top of her head, and the light from her computer screen illuminated her face. I needed to get her attention, but I wasn’t going to shout into the stillness of the night.

I glanced down at the ground and saw a rock. I’d go old school. As I picked it up, I felt very Romeo and Juliette romantic. I took a deep breath and hoped she would feel the same way about the gesture.

11

DAPHNE

“It was just a kiss,”I reminded myself aloud as I typed the third and final proposal for my next series, none of which involved me staying in Firefly Island.

This town was dangerous. Not as dangerous as the war-torn regions we’d covered during my segment-producing days at CNN. But dangerous nonetheless. It was emotional quicksand. I could easily get stuck here.

Speaking of quicksand, my childhood led me to believe it would be a much bigger issue than it actually turned out to be. Growing up, I honestly thought I’d be set on fire thanks to the yearly Stop, Drop, and Roll training I’d had in elementary school. That I’d contract rabies by a dog foaming at the mouth or be infected by a rusty nail. Oh, and dynamite. I was sure that there would be a lot more dynamite-related occurrences.

None of those dangers had presented themselves in my adulthood. But emotional quicksand was real. I feared Firefly Island held the same magical elements as the Bermuda Triangle. It would suck me in, and I’d be lost forever.

There was an energy here, a pull that I’d never experienced before, and it was intoxicating. The sense of community was notsomething I’d been aware I was missing, but after spending less than twenty-four hours in this town, I knew that I was.

All my life, I’d moved from small town to small town, sometimes twice in one year, sometimes leaving in the middle of the night to avoid debt collectors and business associates who my father owed money to. He was in ‘sales’ and was always looking for the next ‘big opportunity.’

I’d worked so hard for my independence, earning my high school diploma at sixteen and receiving scholarships to Northwestern. After graduating college at twenty, I moved to New York, where I interned at CNN before landing a job at Pulse and moving to Los Angeles, where I’d been for the past seven years.

As a kid, I promised myself I’dneverlive in a small town because I knew firsthand that they weren’t as idyllic as my favorite show,The Gilmore Girls,had portrayed. Although, I had to admit, the few summers I spent in Firefly Island had reminded me of Stars Hollow, the fictional town in the series. There was even a gazebo in the Historic District.

But I digress. Never in my life had I been tempted to reside somewhere with a population of less than a million. But less than twenty-four hours in this town, and that’s exactly what I was envisioning.

I was picturing myself meeting Nadia and the ‘squad’ for brunch at the Dreamy Bean Coffee and Book Café. I was imagining us all hitting up a yoga class or walking around the Annual Arts Festival. Not that I’d actually ever been to the Dreamy Bean or attended the Annual Arts Festival, but I followed Firefly Island on Instagram, and I suppose, if I were being honest with myself, I’d always sort of romanticized the small town.

Probably because the summers I’d spent here were the only time in my childhood I’d felt safe. Visiting Grammy Moore andAunt Rhonda had always felt like the emotional equivalent of a warm blanket and hot chocolate after being stranded alone in a snowstorm.

That was sort of what my childhood had been like. At home, I felt isolated. My mom’s priority was making sure my dad was happy, especially if he’d been drinking, and, spoiler alert, he was always drinking. I’d learned at an early age to agree with him and not challenge anything he said for fear of setting him off. I tried to be invisible at home. At school, I worked hard because I knew that was my ticket out of there. Once I hit high school, I enrolled in zero period, night classes, and summer school just so I could graduate early and have some control over my life.

Which is exactly what I had now. I lived in California, worked in my dream job, and didn’t have to answer to anyone. So how had this town and the people in it gotten under my skin in a day’s time? How was that possible?

Was I having a thirty-life crisis? If that was the case, the remedy was not going to be to spend any more time wrapped in the solace and comfort of the warm blanket that was this town.

Especially when that small town had Harlan Mitchell in it. As disappointed as I was in the moment that our dance had been interrupted, I was now leaning toward the everything-happens-for-a-reason philosophy. Alexandra calling and Harlan being called away for a photo op was probably the best thing that could have happened.

Harlan was the apple in the Garden of Eden. He was a temptation I didn’t have the strength to resist. My attraction to him was off the charts, and I feared he hadn’t even really turned his charm on me. If and when that happened, I’d be toast.

This was for the best. Get in; get out. Tomorrow night I’d be falling asleep in my bed back home in California.

I reread the final proposal for Alexandra and hit send. The second my finger hit the button, I heard a loud crack, and Ilet out a shriek as I scrambled on top of the small table that my laptop was on. Panic overwhelmed me as I glanced around, thinking that I wasn’t alone. Aunt Rhonda had warned me about ‘critters’ up in the attic.

My eyes scanned the floor manically, certain I was going to be met with the beady eyes of a raccoon or some other woodland creature.

The sound came once again, but this time, I was able to deduce it was coming from behind me. It was coming from the window. I glanced over my shoulder, thinking I was going to come face-to-face with an owl or a hawk or some other nocturnal bird of flight, but there was nothing there. I was still staring at the glass when I saw a tiny pebble strike the pane.

Tilting my chin down, I peered out and saw the man who had been clogging up my brain for the past three hours, or more accurately, for the past fourteen hours since I’d seen him in the buff taking an outdoor shower.

“Harlan?” I questioned aloud.

The moonlight illuminated his handsome features, and a grin that spread across his face. He was wearing a zip-up hoodie and sweats, and somehow looked even sexier than he had in the penguin suit. He lifted his hand in a wave, then turned it so his palm was facing himself and motioned for me to come down.

My heart was thudding in my chest as I climbed down from the desk. I glanced down at what I was wearing. I had on pajama shorts and a white V-neck T-shirt, and I was going commando. I didn’t have anything to change into because my luggage wasn’t arriving until tomorrow morning at ten. Which was why I didn’t have any underwear. I took a shower after we got home from the gala and didn’t have any clean ones to put on. The only reason I had these clothes was because I’d had them in my carry-on from a trip I’d taken to Chicago.

I would have preferred Harlan’s last impression of me be in theHow to Lose a Guy in 10 Daysyellow dress dupe, but it was a little late for that now. He’d already seen me through the window.

My legs were noodles as I carefully climbed down the ladder that led to the attic, then tiptoed on the stairs that creaked loudly beneath the balls of my feet. I wasn’t sure if my Jell-O knees were caused by the rush of adrenaline from fear of a critter or from the arousal of a man.

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