Page 14 of Make Me Love You

Mrs. Whittaker glared at him briefly, then smiled again at Eli and Emma. “He’s not wrong. There’s never enough money for anything, it seems. Perhaps you could hold a bake sale,” she added brightly.

“A...a bake sale,” Eli repeated, dumbfounded. If the financial future of Hart’s Ridge rested on his ability to convince neighbors to buy baked goods, they were screwed. He glanced sideways at Emma, who was looking everywhere but at him. He sighed. “Sure, why not.”

“And there’s always the Fourth of July celebration. Maybe you could hold a raffle to raise the funds to renovate City Hall,” Mrs. Whittaker said.

At the mention of the Fourth of July celebration, Emma’s head snapped up. “The celebration?”

“You know about the celebration, Emma,” Mrs. Whittaker said, frowning slightly. “It happens every year. Fireworks, a Ferris wheel, food. This year is extra special because it’s the hundred-and-fiftieth anniversary of the founding of Hart’s Ridge.”

“I mentioned it to you yesterday, remember?” Mr. Whittaker interjected. “Permits and such.”

“Yes, but—” Emma looked at him for the first time since entering the room, her gray eyes full of panic. “But I thought...”

Aw, hell.

Eli cleared his throat. “I feel like this was maybe a bit downplayed when we agreed to take on these positions.”

The Whittakers exchanged guilty looks.

“The thing is, we would love to stay. The Fourth of July celebration is one of our favorite events. But Thomas’s health won’t allow it.” Mrs. Whittaker shook her head firmly. “The stress of planning an event like this is simply too much. Our house sold much faster than we thought it would, and we took that for a sign. It’s time for us to go.”

He couldn’t argue with that. The chair squeaked as he stood. “Will you excuse us for a moment? Ms. Andrews, step into the hallway with me for a minute, if you don’t mind.”

Judging from the look she shot him, she minded a whole lot, but she nodded and followed him out of the office. The moment the door shut behind them, she whirled on her toes to confront him.

“You said we wouldn’t have to see each other!” she hissed in a loud whisper. “It’s not even twenty-four hours later and here we are, seeing each other.”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “We might have to amend our arrangement. There’s no way we can put together this kind of event without spending some time in the same room.”

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. “How much time?”

All the time. He wanted all the time. But she wasn’t going to give him that.

“An hour. Let’s say we meet for an hour every Wednesday. That’s it.”

“An hour? That’s it?”

“An hour. Not a second longer, I promise. We might not even need to keep meeting after the first few times. We just need to hit the ground running.”

“An hour on Wednesdays.” She pursed her lips. “Tomorrow is Wednesday.”

“Right.” He held his breath, waiting.

“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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