Page 18 of Always Be an Us

If there's no Fall Fair, then no tourists. Which means we'll be operating at a loss.

At this rate, we’ll have to let go of Yule and Carly too.

I need to make Mayor Duncan see reason. He goes fishing with my Grandpa every Friday so it's easy enough for me to get an impromptu meeting with him.

But once I tell him the problem, he sighs and leans back on his creaky seat.

"I don’t know what to tell you, Emma," he says. "I really can’t do anything about it."

"Yes you can," I say, frustrated. "You're our mayor. Can't you declare the woods by the Pink Hotel protected land or something? It’s been abandoned for decades now.”

"That's not exactly how it works kiddo," he says. "Look, I sympathize with you and Poppy Moon, but I can’t just take a man's land from him. That’s not how America works...anymore."

I chew the side of my cheek, trying to figure out an alternative.

“Wait.” A realization suddenly occurs to me. “Grandpa said your family bought the hotel some time ago. Did you sell it to him?”

Mayor Duncan’s chagrined looks is all the answer I need. Oh no. My only hope slips away.

“Can’t you take it back?” I ask weakly.

He shakes his head. “That hotel was losing me money each year. The Tudors paid me a generous amount for it. I couldn’t just let that slip away.”

I blow out breath through my lips and sigh.

After I leave, I stop on the sidewalk and think.

What do I do now?

A crack of thunder can be heard. The sky above is a dismal blue, matching my mood.

No hope on the horizon.

Chapter Six

Declan

There’s a storm outside, a raging tsunami on a lake.

The oak trees whip one way and the other, a few spines snapping under the force. Some of them are ripped from the ground and tossed against the walls of an unidentified home, cracking loudly with the thunder.

I don't jerk. I'm indoors and, for now, relatively protected from the tempest.

I wonder where I am, and why it seems so familiar yet so foreign as well. The walls are made of wood and thick velvet curtains partially shield the window. A chandelier hangs in the middle of the room, a floor-length mirror and a vanity in front of me.

And behind me, is a large platform bed.

I glance around disoriented until a gust of wind tears open the door to my left.

I spin and see her.

The blonde woman. Emma.

She’s standing in the doorway, in a silk nightgown. I can catch the outline of her nipples through the sheer material as the near-transparent silk skims down her curvy body, hugging the soft flesh of her full figure.

She’s all woman.

I’ve never seen a woman quite as delectable as her, with curves that make my back teeth tingle.

---