Page 28 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start
“Honey, that wasn’t the look of a man doing math.”
Before I can protest that Jessica’s brain sees romantic tension everywhere, Mayor Waters approaches with his wife Penelope gliding beside him like a designer-dressed predator.
Penelope Waters can smile sweetly while sliding a knife between your ribs. Tonight she wears a cream suit, blonde hair perfectly styled despite the October wind.
“Great presentations tonight,” Mayor Waters says diplomatically. “Passionate arguments on both sides.”
“Oh yes,” Penelope adds, honey dripping over steel. “So refreshing to see such...passionatecommunity involvement.” She makes passion sound like a character flaw.
“Thank you, Mayor.” I was aiming for competent leader and probably achieved woman ready to flip tables.
Penelope’s smile sharpens. “Michelle, darling, you spoke beautifully about preserving our little town’s charm. Though I wonder if holding too tightly to the past might prevent us from embracing wonderful growth opportunities.”
The knife is wrapped in silk and Southern manners.
“I think we all learned something tonight,” Mayor Waters continues quickly, shooting his wife a warning look. “This kind of engagement makes Twin Waves special.”
“Speaking of engagement,” Jessica says with studied innocence, “didn’t you want to discuss a compromise committee? Bringing different sides together?”
I stare at Jessica like she just suggested experimental dental surgery. “A what now?”
Penelope’s eyes light up. “Oh, what a marvelous idea! Nothing brings communities together like structured dialogue.” She clasps manicured hands. “I’d be happy to volunteer my organizational skills.”
Mayor Waters looks like he’s watched careful diplomatic balance teeter toward complete chaos. “Well, that’s generous, Penelope, but?—”
“A compromise committee,” he repeats quickly. “Representatives from both sides working together to find common ground.”
Penelope turns to me with that smile that never reaches her calculating blue eyes. “Michelle, honey, this could be a wonderful learning experience. Working with real development professionals, seeing how these projects actually function.”
The condescension drips like poisoned honey. My jaw clenches.
“That sounds—” I begin, but get interrupted by a voice that sends unwelcome heat down my spine.
“Sounds like exactly what we need,” Grayson says, joining our group. His business partner Scott follows, looking like he’s watched his colleague make increasingly questionable decisions all evening.
The first thing that hits me is his scent—woodsy and warm with hints of expensive cologne. Up close, he’s deliciously disheveled. His navy tie hangs loose, the top button of his dress shirt undone, revealing a triangle of throat that makes my mouth go dry. There’s tension around his dark eyes, and I realize tonight hasn’t gone according to his plan.
Our gazes meet and hold for a heartbeat too long. His drops briefly to my mouth before snapping back up, and I catch his slight intake of breath.
Penelope clears her throat. “Mr. Reed, how delightful! I was just telling Michelle what a wonderful learning opportunity this committee could be.”
Grayson’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “I’m sure Ms. Lawson doesn’t need to learn anything. She made her position quite clear tonight.”
“Oh, but surely there’s room for growth,” Penelope presses, her smile sharp as cut glass. “Preserving the past is lovely, but building the future requires... more sophisticated perspectives.”
The temperature drops ten degrees. Jessica takes a step back.
“Sophisticated,” I repeat, letting the word hang like a loaded weapon. “Interesting choice.”
“I simply mean that development at this scale requires expertise beyond... local sentiment.” Her gaze flickers dismissively over my blazer, my hair, my entire existence. “These are complex financial instruments, zoning regulations, architectural standards. Not really coffee shop concerns, if you understand my meaning.”
Fire licks through my veins.
“Mrs. Waters,” I say, my voice deceptively soft, “how thoughtful of you to assume I can’t comprehend concepts more complex than foam art and espresso temperatures.”
Grayson’s lips twitch—barely perceptible, but I catch it. His dark eyes hold mine for a heartbeat too long, and there’s appreciation in his gaze. Challenge. The look of a man who’s just watched his opponent draw blood.
“Of course not, darling,” Penelope recovers. “I simply think everyone should understand the scope of what we’re discussing. These aren’t decisions based on emotion alone.”
