Page 29 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start
“Emotion,” I echo. “Is that what we’re calling informed community advocacy now?”
The air crackles, but not just from my standoff with Penelope. Grayson has moved closer—close enough that I catch hints of his cologne, close enough that I’m acutely aware of how he towers over me, close enough that my pulse kicks into dangerous territory.
His voice, when he speaks, is perfectly measured. “Mrs. Waters raises valid concerns about economic viability,” he says, but his eyes never leave mine. “Though I think we can agree that... passionate stakeholders bring valuable perspectives to the table.”
The way he sayspassionatesends heat spiraling through my chest. It’s not quite a compliment, not quite a challenge, but acknowledgment of a worthy adversary wrapped in silk-smooth diplomacy.
He’s not defending me. He’s marking territory, establishing himself as the only one qualified to spar with me intellectually. The possessive undertone makes my breath catch.
“Passionate,” I echo, my voice barely above a whisper. “Interesting word choice, Mr. Reed.”
His pupils dilate slightly. “I find passion... illuminating in business negotiations, Ms. Lawson. It reveals what people are truly willing to fight for.”
The subtext crackles between us like live wire. We’re not just talking about development anymore. The challenge in his voice, the way his gaze drops to my mouth for a fraction of a second, the careful way he’s positioned himself just close enough to remind me how much larger he is—it’s a carefully orchestrated demonstration of power and restraint that makes my knees unsteady.
Scott clears his throat with the volume of a freight train, desperately trying to prevent his business partner from flirtingwith the enemy while the mayor’s wife collects ammunition for future social warfare.
“We should discuss logistics,” Scott says, voice strained.
“Absolutely,” Mayor Waters agrees. “Three people from each side. Meeting weekly to explore compromises.”
Penelope practically vibrates with excitement. “I simply must be involved! I chair the tourism board, and this project will significantly impact our visitor experience.” She turns that razor-blade smile toward me. “I hope you won’t mind working with someone who has actual experience in economic development, Michelle dear.”
The woman just challenged me to political combat while smiling like she’s inviting me to tea.
“Weekly meetings,” I manage. “With him.” My eyes lock with Grayson’s, and the intensity makes my knees wobble.
“With her,” Grayson says simultaneously, his gaze dropping to my lips again before snapping away. For a heartbeat, we’re both staring at each other like we’ve been sentenced to collaborative detention with the most dangerously attractive person we’ve ever wanted to simultaneously throttle and kiss.
The air between us hums with electricity that has nothing to do with municipal committees.
“And with me,” Penelope adds sweetly, oblivious to the magnetic field threatening to consume everything within a five-foot radius. “This should be absolutely fascinating.”
“This will either solve our problem or create entirely new problems,” Scott mutters.
“Only one way to find out,” Jessica says cheerfully. “I volunteer to be one of Michelle’s representatives.”
“And I’ll represent development,” Grayson says, which means we’ll spend time in rooms together once a week, trying to find middle ground while fighting the urge to either argue or stare.
“Excellent,” Mayor Waters says, though he looks like he’s just struck a match in a dynamite factory. “First meeting Tuesday evening, town hall conference room.”
As people disperse toward the parking lot, I realize I’m walking the same direction as Grayson. We can either make conversation or pretend the other doesn’t exist while half the town watches.
Outside, the October night is crisp. Waves crash steadily against the shore, their rhythm hypnotic in darkness.
“So,” he says after we’ve walked ten feet in charged silence, “that went well.”
Laughter escapes before I can stop it. “If by ‘well’ you mean we declared war on each other’s dreams in front of everyone, then yes. Spectacular.”
“I was thinking more like we both proved we care enough about this place to fight for it.”
I stop walking and turn to look at him properly. The parking lot is mostly empty now. Streetlights create pools of warm light between long shadows, and the ocean provides its soundtrack of waves hitting sand.
“You really think you’re helping, don’t you?”
“Don’t you?”
Fair question. I realize I don’t think he’s evil. Wrong, but not malicious.
