Forever Summer - Melody Grace Page 0,21

he asked, bracing himself

“Your new assignment,” Pete replied. “Planning our annual fundraising drive.”

Noah groaned. “Come on, Chief. Can’t you get one of the rookies to do it?”

“Afraid not.” Pete grinned. “A job like this is a big responsibility, it needs a man with leadership. A man who can get things done.”

“You mean, a man who showed up after everyone else already turned you down?” Noah added wryly.

“See, I knew you’d understand.” Pete slapped him on the back just as the call siren went off. Noah exhaled in relief and headed for the door.

“Sounds great, Chief. I’ll check in later, after I go and—”

“Get started on the fundraising drive,” Pete finished for him. He steered Noah out the door, before he could protest. “Consider this your number-one priority now. And no pressure, but most of our funds come from these drives, and people are expecting a big event. We’re counting on you!”

There was a reason he wasn’t a professional party planner. After staring at a blank sheet of paper for an hour, Noah figured he could use a little help with his brainstorming, and from a festival expert, too.

“We could do a bachelor auction,” Noah suggested later that morning, over blueberry danishes with Mac at her studio. “People could bid on dates or dinner or heavy lifting. That would serve the guys right for ducking out of fundraising duties,” he added with a grin.

“We had one last year,” Mackenzie replied, looking up from the vase she was painting. “But you’re on the right track. Hot guys in uniform are always a big crowd-pleaser.”

“A seafood broil?” Noah tried.

“LobsterFest is next month.”

“A costume party—”

“Weren’t you here for Halloween?” Mac interrupted.

“Oh. Right.” Noah crossed the next idea off his list. “How about a music festival? You know, local bands playing, dancing …”

Mac gave him a sympathetic look. “Sorry. JamFest is the first week of June.”

Great.

Noah tossed down his notebook in defeat. “Is there anything this town hasn’t done yet?” he asked in despair.

“Nope.” Mac grinned. “I even wound up wearing a crab costume a couple of years back, serving chowder to tourists for some reason. I still can’t look at a claw the same way.”

“I don’t know why Pete thought it was a good idea for me to run this thing,” he said, munching on a danish.

“Probably to torment you,” Mac said cheerfully. “Your face does this little pouty thing when you get frustrated, it’s pretty entertaining.”

“Gee, thanks!” Noah tossed a clump of wet clay at her. Mackenzie ducked just in time.

“Look, why don’t you go see Franny at the town hall,” she suggested. “There’s a room somewhere with the plans for every festival this town has ever staged. Pick something we haven’t done in a couple of years, switch up the theme, and just follow the manual. Voilà,” she said. “Problem solved.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Noah said, thinking it over. “Franny’s been in that office forever. She knows everything.”

“But don’t think you can charm her into taking it over,” Mackenzie warned him.

“Me? Duck my responsibilities?” Noah gave a fake innocent look.

She laughed. “I still remember the time you talked Griffin into raking all the leaves in the yard.”

“That was in middle school!” Noah protested. “I’m older now. More mature.”

“More like catnip to a certain breed of single ladies,” Mackenzie said with a snort. “Speaking of—” Her gaze turned speculative. “What’s the update on you and your spinster? I heard you were flirting up a storm the other day.”

“What?” Noah nearly choked on his pastry. “How do you know about that? Don’t tell me this town somehow has spies at Mick’s Building Warehouse.”

He wouldn’t have called it flirting exactly, but there had definitely been something between them the other day. Of course, that had been before Evie had bolted away from him so fast, she’d nearly taken out a six-foot display of Scrub Daddy sponges.

“I was talking about your callout to the inn,” Mac said, looking even more delighted. “Jake filled me in. Why, did something else happen?” she demanded. “Are you guys dating now?”

“No. Nothing like that,” Noah said quickly.

“Why not?” Mackenzie asked. “And don’t even try pretending you don’t like her,” she added, smirking. “I’ve known you way too long for that. You’ve got that exact same look on your face that you did the time Madison Fletcher said she’d go with you to senior prom. All dopey and hormonal.”

Noah took a long gulp of coffee, weighing what to say. His cousin was right, and not just about the hormones. But