CHAPTER 9

Melanie stood on the dock, uncertainty causing her to hesitate. Patio lanterns hung on a wire strung above, and an antique water taxi waited for them. Tristen was at her side, doing heavens only knew what with that skirt of his. In the end, she hadn’t much of a choice about him coming to the party, after Daphne exited the house, all smiles and welcoming, having heard he’d given Tigger a stone. For the first time in days, Daphne was acting like her old self, and Melanie had quickly relented, allowing Tristen to come play superhero.

“This is really twisted,” she whispered to him now. He had stopped adjusting his clothes and was smoothing his wig repeatedly.

“Why?” His daughter’s perfume wafted over her instead of his usual cologne as he leaned close to hear her.

“Just very twisted.” She wondered what he’d done to prevent a male-like bulge from appearing in the front of his dress. Being attracted to a man who was currently wearing women’s clothes was messing with her mind every time she started to check him out—which apparently was a new, unbreakable habit of hers.

“Right,” he agreed, his voice rough.

“Shhh. You’re talking like a man.”

“How do you stand these heels?”

“How did you even find those? Your feet are enormous.”

“Used clothing store. I like your dress.”

“Okay, we are not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“The whole girl thing where we compliment each other on things, to see where the other one shops, while secretly thinking we could do better in some small way.”

“Women do that?”

“Yeah, and good luck getting your hands on this dress, buster. Simone designed it for me specially. One of a kind.”

“I can tell. It looks as though it was made for you. It hugs your curves in a way that shouts to the world that you are all woman.”

“I can’t decide if I should shove you in the water or thank you.”

“A kiss would be fine.”

She glared at him and he laughed, rich and low.

Remind her again why she thought this silly man was sexy?

“Ooh. Nice outfit, Tristen,” Hailey called, joining them on the dock.

Melanie shushed her sister with enough vim and vigor to catch Aaron Bloomwood’s attention as he arrived. “Trista,” she reminded her sister.

“We’re so glad you could be our guests tonight.” Aaron appeared at Melanie’s elbow, his white suit looking very Miami Vice. The sky behind him was streaked with pinks as dusk settled in, a storm on the horizon. Perfect weather to go hang out on an island with the enemy. A cool breeze ruffled Melanie’s dress and she shivered, bringing her arms around herself. Tristen had his own wrap—provided by Maya, to help mask how broad his shoulders were—around her in seconds, and she turned to give him a round-eyed what-are-you-doing look. He was going to blow his cover before they even got to the dinner.

Melanie slipped the wrap off her shoulders, handing it back to Tristen as Maya, laughing, with fingers pressed just above her cleavage, complimented Aaron on his attire, thereby drawing his attention away from the garment exchange.

Aaron reached past Melanie—invisible, thank you very much—and clutched Hailey, giving her a cheek kiss. Another for Maya. Daphne. And even Tristen.

“See?” Melanie whispered to him, as their host waved Mario over.

“See what?” he whispered back.

“Never mind,” she grumbled. Of course he wouldn’t notice that she was invisible. He’d gotten a cheek kiss of approval from their host. If anyone was to guess who was the man in drag, it would likely be her getting the votes. It didn’t help that Maya had given Tristen some body language lessons, including how to do the sexy, swaying hip walk. If Melanie were a man, she’d be all over Tristen. She hadn’t asked what he’d slipped down the front of his dress, but he definitely fell in the well-endowed bombshell category.

“And who do we have here?” Aaron’s attention was stuck on Tristen. Not good. He wasn’t supposed to notice Tristen. If Aaron figured out that the woman he was ogling was actually his old cutthroat competitor from Toronto…no, Melanie most definitely did not want to think about that, nor the possible consequences.

Mario was leaning in, drawn to Tristen, as well. Aaron’s guard dog was wearing an impeccable black suit that disproved the theory that black was minimizing. In fact, the man’s bulk might actually be enhanced. His scowl definitely had been. Well, until he’d seen Tristen. Now he was all smiles.

“You are so very tall,” Mario said, his voice deep and accented.

Tristen placed a hand on his chest and gave a bashful eyelash bat that made Melanie want to barf, especially when she saw how well it worked on Mario.

“This is our cousin Trista,” Hailey said. “I hope you don’t mind her coming along tonight?”

Maya gave their host a lovely smile and Hailey moved to clutch his arm, adding her own lovely smile.

The man didn’t stand a chance.

“Perfect,” he said. “The more the merrier, if she doesn’t mind us talking business?”

Tristen gave a demure shoulder shrug, which seemed to satisfy Aaron. The way he was studying Tristen’s shoulders made Melanie uneasy, however. “I like strong women. Do you work out, Trista?”

Tristen swallowed hard and Melanie hoped Aaron failed to notice his large Adam’s apple.

“How much can a gal like you bench press?” Aaron looked as though he was going to give Tristen’s arm a squeeze, but Melanie stepped in, deflecting him.

“Oh, is this the boat we are taking? It’s simply exquisite. I do love antiques. Was this in the boat show?”

Aaron frowned. “Oh, uh, yes, I think so.”

“Shall we set out?” she asked brightly.

“I suppose we should, since everyone is here.”

Mario began ushering them into the boat as Aaron began a sales pitch on how wonderful their evening was going to be. Tristen waited for Melanie, hand extended to allow her onto the boat first. She gave him a pointed glare and a shove, forcing him to go ahead. It was endearing how gentlemanly he was, but he was going to blow it. Big time.

Tristen sat beside her on one of the boat’s bench seats, giving her leg a quick squeeze. “You okay?”

She gave a barely there nod.

“We can leave early.”

Melanie pulled her shoulders to her ears and scooted over. “You’re breathing on my neck and sitting too close. It’s like we’re lovers, not cousins.” This was not the time to enjoy how near he was.

“I thought women acted all cozy.” He drifted farther away and she immediately missed his body heat. Tristen glanced around the boat’s cabin, then grabbed his bra under his fake breasts and heaved it back and forth, like a cow with a major itch trying to relieve the agony on barbed wire.

“Oh, my word, would you stop that?” Melanie smacked his arm, loudly enough to make Hailey turn and stare.

“You two okay?” she asked, a crease forming between her brows. She’d straightened her hair and it fell over her shoulders in a glossy wave that made Melanie envious. Self-consciously, she ran a palm over her own curls, hoping they weren’t frizzy, but knowing there was a fair chance they had sucked a good portion of the evening’s humidity from the air, adding to its volume. She was definitely going to look like a drag queen by the end of the night.

“We’re fine,” she said.

Tristen clasped his massive hands in his lap and Melanie sighed, waiting for the inevitable disaster to hit.

* * *

The water taxi dropped them off in a small inlet where a screened-in room sat nestled along the shore. The lights inside, reflecting on the dark water’s moving reflection, beckoned in welcome. It was a private restaurant that Melanie hadn’t even known existed. A whole other world.

“Oh, Nate’s,” chirped Tristen. “Love this place.” He gazed at the building as though taking in a long lost friend. “Incredible garlic bread.” He took Melanie’s hand and helped her out of the boat. She shook her head and let him. They might be able to teach him how to walk in heels, but apparently some habits were too ingrained. And if she was honest, she was secretly glad of that. He turned and helped the rest of the sisters, going so far as to playfully scold Mario for not being a gentleman and forcing “Trista” to step in.

The man had the grace to look sheepish, and hurried ahead to hold the door to the restaurant for the group, as the wind picked up.

Melanie sat through the meal, watching as Aaron and Mario sucked up to her sisters and Tristen. She was pretty sure they weren’t succeeding. Daphne had a glazed smile. Hailey was playing with the light and shadows caused by her dessert fork under the chandelier’s glow. Tristen was spending more time trying to avoid Mario’s admiring looks than offering quiet commentary. Only Maya seemed half-interested. She was nodding politely, fist under her chin, adding the odd, “Is that so?” But even she didn’t seem to be into it.

“When will you be breaking ground?” Melanie asked.

“As soon as everything is in order,” Aaron replied, barely sparing her a glance.

“Will that be long? Summer is almost over.”

“We’re doing all we can to expedite the process.”

“I hear the permit process can be very time intensive. Your investors must be frustrated.”

Aaron gave her a glance, falling back into a rehearsed speech full of glitz and innuendos. Basically, he was using “look at this and ignore that” misdirection—the very thing Tristen had warned her about and was common in the courtroom. Add in a few reassurances meant to placate them and that about summed up Aaron.

“It must be so exhausting dealing with all that bureaucracy,” Maya said. “I hope you know someone in the municipal office who can help you expedite things.” She was toying with her fork, watching the men from under her lashes in a way that made Melanie wish she could do that without looking mentally deficient.

Aaron smiled, but didn’t give more than with a noncommittal shrug and another canned reply.

Tristen hissed in her ear, “Can you believe this?”

“Yes.”

“How stupid do they think you are?” He adjusted the linen napkin laid over his lap. “On principle, you should storm out of here. They won’t say anything unless it is part of their prepared speech. I know I promised to remain silent, but I really think I should intervene.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Maya topped up the men’s wine, filling her own glass as well, which was swiftly swapped with Daphne’s when they weren’t paying attention. So far, by Melanie’s count, the men had had about four or five glasses each and Maya about two. Daphne, however, was starting to look a tad tipsy from helping her out. Melanie wiggled her fingers at Daphne for the full glass, which made its way down to her. She set it in front of Tristen. This would be his third or fourth, as she’d placed a few glasses in front of him when the men insisted the sisters drink up. “This is how you help out.”

He sighed and took a delicate sip so as not to smear his lipstick.

Maya tried a few more ways to get the men talking, leaning forward as she laughed at an inane joke.

“He’s staring down Maya’s dress!” Tristen hissed under his breath. He shoved his chair back and slammed the wineglass onto the table. Melanie quickly placed a hand on his arm.

“Are you okay, um, Trista?”

The sisters shot them panicked looks.

Tristen cleared his throat and Melanie quickly asked, “Did you need to powder your nose?”

“Yes. Excuse me.”

Tristen’s eyes widened and he half sat as he realized where he’d have to go in order to keep up the pretense.

Melanie took him by the arm. “Let’s go, sweetie.” She led him away from the table, adding merrily over her shoulder, “Poor gal can’t hold her wine! But she’ll be a blast later!”

The men laughed and waved them away, their attention already back on Maya.

Hoping Tristen might have some strategy ideas, she accompanied him to the ladies’ room. She watched as he pushed open each stall door, an irrational bubble of laughter squeezing its way up her chest. “Did you shave your legs?”

“Yes.” He tugged the red fabric of his skirt out of her grasp as she sought a better look. “I think it would be rather obvious that I am a man if they were to see—” The bathroom door swung inward and a woman stumbled in, her cheeks flushed. Polly Pollard. Hailey’s old bestie from school—well, before Polly had decided to go the find-a-rich-husband-and-become-a-trophy-wife route and Hailey the struggling artist route.

Tristen, quick as a whip, supported Polly to keep her from falling. The woman giggled and reached up to place a hand against his cheek. “Oh, now aren’t you just the homeliest but sweetest thing.”

Tristen gave her a watery smile.

Polly, noticing Melanie, lurched into her arms. “Mellie…!” she crooned. “I’ve missed you. How are you?”

“Great.”

“I have to tinkle, okay? Nice catching up with you.”

Tristen helped Polly into a stall, shooting Melanie an amused look.

“So?” Melanie asked. “Are you going to keep it together out there or should I put you in a taxi?”

Tristen pulled her away from the occupied stall. “They’re totally blowing sunshine, and aren’t falling for bait.” He pushed his hands through his hair, knocking his wig askew. “You’re in over your head.”

She lifted the edge of his wig, trying to pin it back in place, hoping the task would keep her from unloading her frustration with Rubicore onto his shoulders. A man like Tristen just might make her frustration his own problem, and try to take down the men who were causing it.

Tristen grasped her hands, stopping her ministrations. “You need to be careful. Aaron’s made life difficult for his enemies. He’s playing hardball out there. This is a big project, no matter what he says. Someone has put a lot of money on the line. If you have any secrets in your past, then it would be best to let this thing go.”

Melanie, still toying with Tristen’s slicked back hair, said softly, “I can handle this. I have no secrets.”

“What about your sisters, your mother, your niece and her father? Your father?”

“He’s dead. Has been for years.”

“But what about everyone else?”

Did her family have more secrets? Hailey and their mother hadn’t told anyone about the cottage’s tax situation until last month—and now it was almost too late to make the payment. Their great-grandmother had been gifted an expensive cottage and had had a child out of wedlock. Was the cottage a bribe to stay quiet? How many secrets were in the Summers’ past?

Melanie shoved the last hairpin in place and Tristen let out a gruff, “Ow!” as it jabbed him.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, honey.” Polly slipped out of her stall, her dress snagging on the latch as she weaved her way over to Tristen. “Get the hormones.” She waved at his fake hair and makeup. “This is too high maintenance. My half-brother’s dad got it done.” She put a hand to her crotch as though lifting her nonexistent junk. “Whole kit and caboodle. It’s no wonder Josh got in trouble as a teen. Talk about confusing. Dad becomes Mom.”

“I think that’s a terribly good idea, Trista,” Melanie exclaimed.

Tristen shot her a look and shook hands with Polly, giving her a bright smile, and Melanie felt a surge of unwanted jealousy. “Trista. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Well, Trista honey, you get this all taken care of and live your life as you were meant to live it, okay?” She leaned close, looking sad and aged. “That’s so important.”

The woman sashayed out of the room, sending a flirty glance over her shoulder at Tristen, who seemed to have his eyes glued to her pert nether regions. Something was up with Polly and her marriage, that much was evident. But there was no way she was getting Tristen.

Melanie grabbed his face, dragging his coral lips to hers. She pulled him forward, excitement mounting as he deepened the kiss, his body pressed tight against hers. His fingers tangled in her curls as he tipped her head back, exposing her neck. He kissed down the length of sensitive skin, heading to her cleavage as voices grew louder in the hall.

“It’s never just a kiss,” Tristen whispered, his lips against her throat, his warm hands releasing her slowly. His voice was a delicious form of sex appeal that she wished she could rub all over her body.

She straightened her dress and stepped to the door, passing a woman who gave her an odd, questioning look as she entered.

Melanie took her spot at the table, Tristen beside her. She felt riled up and frustrated. What was happening between them? She glanced at him, then away. She’d kissed a man wearing drag. She was half-drunk. What kind of espionage person drank on the job and took a make-out break?

Noting her arrival, Hailey did a double take, and Daphne started dabbing at her mouth like crazy.

Tristen turned, and Melanie saw that his lipstick was smeared.

“Oh, sh—” She quickly dropped her head and rummaged for a tissue, swiping at her lips to remove all lipstick, hers or Tristen’s. Knowing her cheeks were burning, she took a deep, calming breath before daring to look up. Hailey was distracting the men by pointing to the small restaurant’s beams and talking about light, shadows, gray space and who cared what else; she was keeping them from getting any odd ideas about Tristen and Melanie.

They still had to get through a party after this. A long, agonizing party.

As surreptitiously as possible she indicated where Tristen needed to fix his lipstick, and he took care of it as though they were playing some sort of mirror game.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he whispered.

“Shh.”

He was enjoying this.

She focused her attention on the chandelier above, struggling to keep her temper in check. What was it about him? He was so…so damn tempting. And she was not the type to be tempted. Not by someone like Mr. Hot and Cold.

“You’re not that sexy, you know,” she murmured.

“I totally am.”

The room was warm. He was too close. She wanted to grab him and kiss him. Beg him to take her away somewhere private. At the same time, he was dressed as a sexy woman—she needed to push him far, far away.

The wine was messing with her mind.

“So our proposal,” said Aaron, interrupting her thoughts, “is that you stay out of our way and we’ll do our best not to cause interference with your island. Be good neighbors. And as thanks for putting up with us, we’d like to offer you free lifetime golf memberships at our resort.”

Under the table, Tristen gripped Melanie’s leg—so hard she let out a squeak. Did he think she was dumb? There was no way she and her sisters would fall for that.

“After you kill all the wildlife in order to make it, and pollute the water with the chemicals off your perfect greens? No, thank you,” Daphne mumbled, arms crossed.

“Golf is boring,” Maya stated.

“There’s more,” Aaron said, his smile cranked tightly in place. “Discounts to our boutique.”

“How about a job?” Tristen asked lightly. “I could use a job.”

Aaron paused a moment too long. In the silence, they could hear the restaurant’s old windows rattling as the storm picked up.

“Hiring from outside?” Tristen asked sweetly.

“Well, we…” Aaron floundered. “It’s a very delicate procedure, starting a new resort, and we have a team in place who is experienced in getting something of this magnitude off the ground.”

And there it was. Tristen flashed Melanie a wink. It was a big project, after all. As well as fairly typical in terms of them bringing their own experts and staff. Eventually, they might hire locals, but that would be a ways down the road. And even then the hiring pool would stretch far and wide, with no preferential treatment going to townsfolk. If anything, they would get the menial jobs and that was all.

“That’s why you want our island. Staff housing,” Maya said, her eyes meeting Melanie’s.

“Will you be sourcing supplies locally? What is your footprint in terms of shipping pollution?” Daphne asked.

“We have our distribution chains in place,” Aaron replied.

“So, that is a no,” Tristen clarified. The lights above them flickered as an errant breeze filtered through the room.

“Please, have more wine. I’m sure we can come to a settlement and find a way to work together.”

Settlement. Were they offering cash? Melanie immediately thought of their overdue taxes. Her family could use cash, but not from Rubicore. The only thing they should be doing with this company—which planned to take what was great about Muskoka and ruin it—was stop them.

“Shall we get out of here?” Tristen asked.

Melanie was breathing hard and she knew she had to be glaring at the men. But there was no way she was leaving. There was a lot more to find out.

* * *

Tristen found himself staring at the model of Rubicore’s resort plans, his mind shifting into an old gear that wasn’t nearly as rusty as he’d assumed it would be. As the party buzzed around him, he stepped gingerly around the three-dimensional mockup of Baby Horseshoe Island, his feet sending spikes of agony searing through him as he analyzed the plan for potential issues.

So far, so good. It was evident Rubicore had put some time and thought into it. He wondered who they’d found for an architect. The proposed buildings had a classy, yet rustic look to them. Although Heritage Row was nowhere to be seen. Were they going to demolish the cottages, or relocate them? How would Melanie react when she noticed?

Beside him, she was pointing out problems, stating concerns about the watershed and so forth. The problem was, she seemed to be focusing on things the public honestly wouldn’t care enough about to get behind, and Rubicore could simply slap Band-Aids on. They needed something big. Bigger than hiring local. Much bigger.

“What are they going to do about parking?” Hailey asked.

“I hope the dark sky legislation extends to the island,” Maya said wistfully, her cheeks slightly flushed. “I like being able to see the stars when I’m on the dock.”

“What about water quality and degradation issues?” Hailey asked. She nudged Daphne, who so far hadn’t said a word.

“Sewage, noise pollution, an increase in traffic…” Melanie was still listing things off to her sisters.

Tristen sighed. Directing these women into following one solid plan—assuming he ever found something good for them to attack—was going to be like herding sheep with an air horn. It didn’t help that he was exhausted and slightly tipsy. Being a woman and remembering all the rules was tiring. His panty hose was digging into his waist and the wig was itching like crazy. How did Melanie and her sisters appear so comfortable, milling about, chatting with other partygoers?

“We’re going to go freshen our drinks,” Hailey said, then departed with the other sisters, leaving Melanie and Tristen alone.

“Can we go sit?” he begged. The first hour of the party he’d followed Melanie like a lost pup as she had made the rounds, chatting and catching up with what felt like half the room, and introducing herself to the other half.

“Thank goodness these plans haven’t been approved yet,” Melanie said, hands on her hips.

“Actually, they were approved this afternoon,” said Mr. Valos, joining them. He grinned down at the model as though he was a puppet master and this was his show.

Yep. It was time to step out of this mess. Dot could drink a big ol’ case of Get Over It. Things were not good here. And the more involved Tristen became, the more likely it would be that he’d let the monster out of the attic.

Yet he couldn’t make himself move away from Melanie’s side. And he was pretty sure it wasn’t because she smelled like coconut.

Mr. Valos clasped his hands behind his back, looking pleased. “It will be such a lovely resort. Such a wonderful thing for Muskoka. I can’t wait for them to break ground at the end of August and see this dream come to fruition.”

“Break ground?” Melanie’s voice rose in disbelief. “There hasn’t been a public meeting to hear objections. There’s a process. This is Canada!” She was starting to yell, and Tristen gently tapped her arm, but she yanked it out of his reach.

“Now, Melanie,” Mr. Valos said uncomfortably. “Let’s not create a scene.”

“You and the council are just going to have to sit on your rubber stamp of approval until the public has had a chance to weigh in on this.”

“Now, Melanie…” Vincent repeated. His patronizing tone made Tristen want to shove his fist into the man’s face. Angled just right for maximum destruction, of course. “The meeting was changed to accommodate the vacation times of some of the council members. They work hard, you know.”

“Whoa.” Melanie held up her hands, a dangerous look on her face. “Tell me you haven’t already had the meeting.”

Mr. Valos tugged at his tie, cheeks flushing with guilt.

“There was nothing in the paper stating the meeting time and date had been changed.” Melanie was moving closer, as though she was going to attack the man.

“Mel…” Tristen warned.

“I sent a notice to the paper.” Mr. Valos was drawing himself up.

“Then why did I not see it?”

“Too late to print, perhaps?” Tristen asked, barely remembering in time to use his female voice.

Mr. Valos blinked rapidly. Guilty. He’d probably sent it in, washed his hands and carried on.

That meant they’d just lost a big one to Rubicore and the municipality. Now the developer could proceed, as well as claim innocence on its part in terms of due diligence not having been performed. The municipality could issue an apology. Rubicore could hand out some free memberships. Over. Done.

Rubicore was probably bribing councillors, and the old Tristen probably would have done the same with such a costly project. But he had to admit, standing helplessly on the other side of that fence made him pretty damn angry.

“I don’t see Camp Adaker in these plans,” Melanie said. Her chest expanded as she caught on to what had happened: the camp was gone. Quietly swept off the table when nobody was paying attention.

“Well, Rubicore does own it. I suppose it is their prerogative. Now, if you’ll please excuse me. I must go chat with the premier.”

“They bought the camp?” Melanie caught Vincent’s arm. Her voice was weak, and for a second Tristen wondered if she was about to faint.

Mr. Valos replied, “Years ago.”

“But…” Melanie’s face scrunched in a way that Tristen figured was a pretty good indication she was holding back tears. “I’ve been fund-raising for Adaker since I stopped working there as a counselor. It’s a charity. Nonprofit. How could they buy it?”

Oh, boy. This was where it got personal for her.

Mr. Valos paused. “It’s closed now. Didn’t you hear?”

“How could they close it?”

“They didn’t want the campers near all the construction, and felt it would be best to shut it down.”

“Forever?”

Valos shrugged.

“I think it’s time for us to leave, Melanie.” Tristen glanced toward the exit and a woman in a pastel suit smiled, making eye contact.

“Have you seen the full plans?” she asked as she approached, allowing Mr. Valos to slip away. The woman wore a Rubicore name tag and began spouting off wonderful facts about the resort. She pointed out the parking plans, and Melanie, who seemed stunned by the news about the camp, allowed Tristen to pull her away. He just about had her out of range when she dug in her heels again.

“I’m sorry,” Melanie said to the woman. “What did you say?”

“By creating more parking in port, we will not only solve our own parking issues but also create more public parking in the downtown core of Port Carling.” She beamed expectantly.

“You what?”

Oh, he knew that tone. Someone was about to have their nuts handed to them in a gift bag.

“Parking,” the woman chirped, oblivious. Probably because she didn’t have nuts.

“I’m sorry, but this looks like the island where the museum is. You must mean the snippet of land that is across the road from the locks?”

The woman glanced over her shoulder, seeking help.

Tristen sidled up behind Melanie, not caring if he was standing protectively close. He wasn’t going to risk missing a thing. That was his jogging island they were messing with.

“But how are you going to get cars onto the island?” he asked in his best Trista voice. “It’s foot traffic only, and you’d be ruining the island’s charm, changing that. It would involve major construction to get cars out there.”

“A ramp. Now if you look at the—”

“I’m sorry. A ramp?”

There it was. The much-loved, small island park was going to be levelled and covered in asphalt, with sections of it carved out to moor an increasing number of boats. Currently, with the walking path around its circumference, the old log cabin museum, mature trees, as well as being a stopping point for the Segwun, it was picturesque, quiet, and so entirely Muskoka.

And about to be demolished in the name of progress.

His temperature rose, and he could tell the news was having the same effect on Melanie. Adding a vehicle bridge to the island would also create a traffic mess on the hill that joined one half of town to the other. In their fight against Rubicore, they’d quite literally found their hill to die upon and he didn’t know how he was going to manage the fight without becoming a monster. And the more he got to know Melanie, the more he worried that his monster side would scare her away.

“Sweetie, let’s take a picture of these beautiful plans,” Tristen cooed, hoping Melanie would take a massive chill pill and follow his lead. He could feel Aaron’s eyes drilling into them from the group he was chatting with, several feet away. “The parking is going to be so helpful for the town.”

Melanie slowly changed her tune, shoulders relaxing. “Here, let me hold your purse for you, Trista.”