Page 13 of Rescued By My Small Town Billionaire

But for the life of me, I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Chapter seven

Becky

Julia, Mike’s mom, pulls out her event planning binder in the spacious Thorn kitchen.

It’s bursting with notes, sketches, and clipped-out ideas for the upcoming firefighter charity gala. She flips through it like a seasoned pro, pausing every so often to make a note on this year’s to-do list.

My friends and I have gathered today to pitch in.

“Becky,” she says, looking up at me with a warm smile, “would you mind helping with the flowers for the gala? We’ll need arrangements for the tables, the entryway, and the stage. I can’t think of anyone better to make it beautiful.”

Her confidence in me warms my heart. “I’d love to,” I say, trying to hide the lump forming in my throat. Working with flowers again feels like stepping back into myself after the fire, and the thought of contributing to something meaningful fills me with purpose.

“I’ll bring cupcakes,” Maggie Ann pipes up from her seat at the table. “And maybe a few trays of cookies. A gala isn’t a gala without good food.”

Ellie, who’s perched on the counter, grins. “Between Becky’s flowers and Maggie Ann’s baked goods, this gala might turn into a matchmaking event. Romance in the air, beautiful flowers, and sugar? It’s a recipe for love.”

Maggie Ann laughs. “You’re always scheming, Ellie.”

Julia steps out to get more planning supplies from her office.

“Not scheming, just… observing,” Ellie replies, her eyes sparkling. “And I’ve observed a lot of sparks between a certain firefighter and our favorite florist.”

Maggie Ann raises an eyebrow, and even Rachel and Josie, who’ve joined the planning meeting from the bakery, lean in. “Are you saying Mike and Becky…?” Rachel asks, leaving the question hanging.

Before Ellie can answer, Lulu walks into the kitchen, and the group abruptly quits talking. The sudden silence is so obvious that Lulu glances around, confused.

“What?” Lulu asks, setting her bag down. “Why does it feel like I just walked into a secret meeting?”

“No secret. Actually, it’s no secret to anybody,” Maggie Ann says quickly, though her grin gives her away. “Just planning the gala.”

I let it go, too distracted by the detailed list of floral arrangements needed. The challenge excites me, and I can’t wait to get started.

Over the rest of the day, I dive into the arrangements, losing myself in the familiar rhythm of trimming stems, selecting blooms, and piecing together designs. Mike checks in on me occasionally, his presence steady and reassuring.

“You’re coming as my date, right?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe of the room where I’m assembling a centerpiece.

“Your date?” I glance up, surprised.

“For the pretense,” he clarifies, though there’s a flicker of something in his expression I can’t place. “It’ll sell the story if we’re seen together.”

I nod, though the idea of walking into a gala on Mike’s arm sends a nervous flutter through me. “Of course. For the pretense.”

The night of the gala arrives faster than I expected.

The Junction Falls Event Hall, where the Fireman’s Gala is being held, is a charming mix of elegance and small-town warmth. It’s a historic brick building with large arched windows, its exterior framed with climbing ivy and twinkling fairy lights that cast a soft, romantic glow over the entrance. A red carpet runner leads up the steps, a playful nod to the formality of the night, though inside, the atmosphere is anything but stuffy.

When Mike meets me near the entrance, my breath catches. He’s dressed in a tailored black suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders, and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he looks at me.

“You look amazing,” he says, his voice low.

“Thank you,” I manage, my cheeks warming. The dress fits like a dream, the soft fabric flowing around me in a way that feels almost magical.

As we step through the grand wooden double doors, we’re greeted by a breathtaking scene. The event hall has been transformed into a stunning display of twinkling lights and elegant table settings. The high vaulted ceilings are strung with delicate chandeliers that sparkle like firelight.

I can’t help but notice the way people glance at us, their smiles warm and approving. Mike keeps his hand lightly on my back, guiding me through the crowd, and I try not to think about how natural it feels.

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