Page 20 of Small Town Sizzle

“What?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

Her eyes flick over me, assessing me like she’s trying to decide whether I’m worth her time. Finally, she nods.

“Great,” she says, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Welcome back to Hicks Creek.”

I stare at her for a second, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. Could I really be in this close proximity with her for the next few months without the two of us ripping each other’s heads off? I sigh inwardly as I look her up and down, my eyes falling on her full, pouty lips.

“And what do you do?” I ask as I clear my throat and try to focus on work and not what it would be like to kiss her.

“I’m a social worker at the house next door but also run the youth programs here. I guess you’re handling the renovations.” Her tone suggests she’s skeptical about that arrangement.

“That’s the plan,” I say, folding my arms. “Unless you’ve got objections?”

“Plenty,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “But we’ll see if you can change my mind.”

The tension between us buzzes like a live wire, and I can’t decide if it’s irritating or intriguing.

“Look,” I say, straightening up, “I’m here to do a job, not make friends. So, if you’ve got concerns, let’s hear ’em.”

She crosses her arms, mirroring my stance. “Fine. My main concern is that this place isn’t just another project for you. These kids—this community—they matter. So, forgive me if I’m not jumping for joy about some outsider coming in and taking over.”

“I’m not just some outsider,” I snap. “This is my hometown, and I grew up here.”

She studies me for a moment, her gaze softening just slightly. “Ethan knows your mom’s vision like the back of his hand, and you don’t. I’m not going to let you stray from her plans,” she says simply before turning and walking out.

I watch her go, a strange mix of frustration and curiosity swirling in my chest.

I rub the back of my neck, my head throbbing dully. “Well,” I mutter to myself, “this should be interesting.”

I pull out my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I find Ethan’s name. Pressing the call button, I put the phone to my ear and wait. The line rings twice before he picks up.

“Garrett,” Ethan greets, his voice laced with amusement. “How’s it going over there?”

“Where the hell is everyone?” I ask, rubbing a hand over my face. “This place is a disaster. I thought we were supposed to be making progress.”

Ethan chuckles. “Yeah, about that. Everyone’s on other jobs right now. You know, keeping busy, making money. But as soon as they’re free, they’ll head your way.”

I exhale sharply, staring at the mess in front of me. “Great. Just great.”

“Figure out what happens first, make a plan. You’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Okay.”

I hang up, slipping my phone back into my pocket. Looking around, I shake my head at the disaster zone in front of me. Dust, discarded materials, and tools are scattered everywhere. Whoever was here last didn’t give a damn about cleaning up after themselves. I’m honestly surprised Maya wasn’t having a fit over it.

Grabbing a broom, I start sweeping, pushing aside crumpled drop cloths and pieces of drywall. The scrape of the bristles against the floor fills the silence, my thoughts turning over the mess and the work still ahead.

Just as I toss a pile of debris into the trash, the door swings open. Maya steps inside, carrying a large poster board. Her expression is unreadable, but there’s something careful in the way she holds it, almost reverent.

She walks up to me, holding out the board. “I thought you should see this.”

I set the broom aside and take it from her. It’s covered in pictures cut from magazines—cozy furniture, warm colors, shelves stacked with books, soft lighting, and open spaces designed to encourage conversation. There are kids laughing, people gathered around tables, murals on walls.

“This is what your mom wanted,” Maya says softly. “She had a vision for this place. A space that’s warm and welcoming, where kids in town can feel safe.”

I glance at her, taking in the emotion on her face. She’s not just showing me this because it’s part of the job. She cares.

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