2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“Taylor! There you are,” Mona Grayson, the mayor of Christmas Falls, exclaimed as he approached where she was standing back from the stage, set up in front of the still-dark tree.

“Right here, boss,” Taylor said. “What’s up?”

His old college friend, Joey, always joked that his deputy mayor job was little more than a glorified personal assistant, even though he knew better. When Taylor had listed out all the projects he’d spearheaded during his four years here, even Joey, who made a living not only being an in-demand business consultant, but a sarcastic smart ass, had been impressed .

He hadn’t used the phrase, you’re a shoe-in regarding the soon-to-be-empty city manager job, but Taylor had read between the lines and had let himself feel optimistic.

At least until the latest round of Mona’s concerns.

“Oh good, you’re here,” she said. “I’ve got to have someone keep Heath Kelly from running away.”

She gestured towards where Heath Kelly, former soap actor, Hallmark heartthrob, and when they’d finally gotten their conservative heads out of their even-more conservative asses, the male lead in their last three queer-themed holiday movies, stood.

And, even more pertinently, this year’s Christmas Falls Festival grand marshal.

Next to the podium and the gigantic tree, was Heath, undeniably tall and undeniably handsome. Taylor could see Heath’s gaze roaming over the growing crowd, his apprehension not particularly well-hidden. Even for a celebrity used to Hollywood’s excesses, the festival was a lot.

A whole bunch of holiday joy.

Maybe a lesser man wouldn’t admit it or enjoy it, but the truth was, Taylor fucking loved it.

Last year, Taylor had been convinced Jem Knight, the retired Charleston Condors defensive end and one of the town’s most famous sons, would take a dive off the platform just to stop all the overly enthusiastic screams and catcalls.

“Go charm him,” Mona said, giving Taylor a little shove. “Maybe he’ll take one look at you, decide that he’s been waiting for you for his whole life, and you can settle down together with three cats and a nice picket fence.”

“Three cats?”

Mona chuckled. “Doesn’t the other Taylor—”

“No. I don’t need three. Just Meredith is fine,” Taylor said resolutely. This was one of his favorite nights of the year. He was not going to tolerate comparisons to certain very famous female pop stars, not tonight, anyway.

“Taylor, you know this town. Maybe you didn’t grow up here—”

“Mona,” Taylor interrupted again.

“And that’s another ding—and we both know it is, Taylor. This town doesn’t particularly like change. And they don’t like strangers. They don’t like single, tall, dark, and handsome strangers, especially.”

Taylor rolled his eyes, hoping that his outward disdain for the mayor’s worry might protect that tiny flame of hope-tinged optimism deep inside him. “If that was actually true, they’d be way less excited to see Heath Kelly.”

She laughed and patted him on the arm. “I do love you, Taylor. You’re so funny.”

“Don’t say you’ll miss me when you’re gone.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mona said resolutely. That much Taylor could believe .

Mona had been the mayor for a long time, at least fifteen years, and she was as much a fixture of Christmas Falls as Christmas Falls was a fixture for her .

Someday, Taylor wanted to take her spot. But for now, he was going to be perfectly happy getting the city manager position he’d had his eye on for the last two years.

And old, curmudgeonly Mr. Granger, who’d probably worked for Christmas Falls longer than Taylor had been alive, had finally announced his retirement.

Taylor, who’d been learning the ropes from both him and Mona for the last four years, had seemed like the most natural fit. Mona had even cautiously said she’d give him a recommendation to take to the city council during the hiring process.

But he was young. He wasn’t originally from Christmas Falls. And he didn’t have a family.

Three strikes Mona couldn’t stop reminding him about.

“Go keep that nice young man company. Flirt a little. If the town and the city council think you’re interested in settling down . . .” Mona waggled her eyebrows, and Taylor knew he should laugh, but he could barely muster a smile. He wasn’t interested in settling down. When he lay in bed, sleep elusive, and thought of the future, of what he wanted more than anything else, it was a job that helped him preserve what made Christmas Falls so special while adding just enough growth that the town didn’ t stagnate.

That might, eventually, when Mona had decided that she didn’t want to be mayor anymore, empower him to run in her place.

“Right,” Taylor said. He didn’t remind Mona that Heath Kelly wasn’t going to be interested in him, even if he was interested in Heath Kelly.

Which he wasn’t.

Not even a little.

Yes, as Taylor wandered closer to him, he couldn’t deny that Heath was very good looking. And famous. And rich.

Maybe Joey was right and his sex drive, ignored for too long, had finally shriveled and died.

But it was hard to be sad about that, especially when he was the only candidate for his dream job, and he was hoping it would stay that way. Then, her warnings about his three strikes wouldn’t make much difference.

“Hey,” Taylor said to Heath. “You thinking about making a run for it, yet?”

Heath gave him a semi-embarrassed smile. “I do this entertainment stuff for a living, so it shouldn’t be so . . .so . . .”

“I get it,” Taylor said, shoving his hands into his charcoal gray jacket.

“Well, you’re the deputy mayor, so that means you signed up for this, right? You enjoy it.”

Taylor did not remind Heath Kelly that he had also signed up for this. Albeit temporarily .

“Actually,” Taylor said, “I love it.”

Heath gave him a surprised look. And yes, okay, Taylor didn’t look like a guy who was obsessed with Christmas.

He looked like who he was, on the outside, anyway. An urban guy in his early thirties, fit and decent looking, upwardly mobile with a job in marketing or IT or business, with a good wardrobe.

He had been that guy. He’d tried to be, anyway. It hadn’t stuck.

If you peeled him open, underneath his thick, sober charcoal peacoat and navy cashmere sweater, he’d bleed red and green and glitter.

“Yeah? That’s cool. I do this kind of thing, a lot. Comes with my job, too. All this holiday rah-rah cheer. But the funny thing is, I’m usually bundled up in the heat of August, sweating through my sweater and coat, wishing I could rip the scarf off and take a deep breath.” Heath chuckled. “And the snow’s always fake.”

“Not so fake here.”

Heath seemed like a decent enough guy. Maybe Taylor should be doing what Mona had suggested, but that easy charm that worked so well on the townspeople felt frozen when it came to a romantic possibility.

It hadn’t always been that way.

“Nope,” Heath said with a grin. “So I hear I’m getting a liaison, for, like, the festival events.” He gave Taylor another quick once-over. “Please tell me that’s gonna be you. ”

Taylor was flattered. Still frozen, but flattered.

“Actually, no,” Taylor said apologetically. “That’s going to be Murphy Clark. He carves the gnomes. I’m sure you’ve seen them around town.”

Last year, the festival organizer, Griff, had convinced Murphy to do the liaison job, because by the time they headed into the five weeks before Christmas and the prime festival season, Murphy was always at a loose end. He’d already done all his work, throughout the year.

Plus, Murphy had an easy, quiet way about him. Supportive and friendly. When Griff had mentioned they should approach him again for the job, Marlene had argued that the only reason he’d agreed at all last year was because of the torch he’d been carrying for Jem Knight, last year’s grand marshal.

But when they’d asked, to everyone’s surprise, Murphy had agreed. He’d never be a people person, but after dating Jem for the whole year, Taylor could see that he’d begun to come out of his shell more.

“Oh yeah? The gnome guy? I think I met him at Rudolph’s the other night. He’s the one who’s dating the really hot football player.” Heath winced. “The one who replaced me last year, when I broke my leg.”

“Yep, that’s Murphy. Big guy. Gnome carver. Plaid-and-Jem-Knight aficionado.”

“Cool. I liked him. ”

Taylor patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll be in expert hands with him. The guy grew up here. He’s practically Christmas Falls in a single person.”

Heath shot him a flirtatious glance. “I thought that was you. Loving it so much here and all.”

He should be flattered. He should not only be flattered, he should be listening to Mona’s advice and taking Heath up on all these promising looks he kept sending Taylor’s way.

When would he ever get to say he’d hooked up with a bona fide movie star?

If ego mattered, it would be full to bursting at even the possibility.

But Heath still left Taylor cold.

“I do love it,” Taylor agreed. Patted him again. “Come on, Mona’s getting ready to make her speech, and we’re on smile and wave duty. You can say a few things if you’d like, but it’s not a requirement.”

“I can do that,” Heath said, nodding.

“The mayor likes to flip the switch herself,” Taylor explained under his breath as they walked towards the middle of the stage, slightly behind the podium. “Gives her a rush of power, or so she says.”

“You ever interested in taking her job?” Heath asked, waving at where Mona stood .

“Being the mayor? Someday, maybe, but not now.” He wasn’t going to tell Heath that the real power in the town was working behind the scenes. That Mona was largely a figurehead.

“You’d be good at it,” Heath said and thankfully left it at that, as Mona approached the podium to a raucous wave of cheers.

He started waving and felt better when Heath joined in, seeming to get the hang of it.

No, he wouldn’t be making a run for it.

And no, Taylor wouldn’t be inviting him to his bed, either.

The reason why?

The shining faces gazing up at Mona, and the unbridled joy in them as she flipped the switch. There was a power in that, but not the kind of power that Heath probably assumed it was.

It wasn’t about the title. It was about understanding the true power of this town, the pulse of it that ran so steady and bright underneath every street and was the lifeblood of the festival.

The reason so many tourists came once and then returned every year, just the way that Taylor and his family had.

It was the power of happiness. Of nostalgia. Of hope and care and selflessness. And Taylor had learned, since he’d moved here four years ago, that he’d do anything in his power to protect that and to nurture it.

Taylor let Murphy and Jem collect Heath at the end of the lighting ceremony, and he wasn’t sure where they’d be taking him, but it wasn’t with him, and that was all he cared about.

Polite deflections were only going to get him so far.

Taylor was heading out of Sugar Plum Park, weaving through the knots of people carrying cups of steaming hot cocoa and cider, holding brightly decorated sugar cookies in their mitten-covered hands when Mona caught up to him.

He saw Mason over at his table, talking to a handful of people about the new foundation, and Elias in the crowd, handing out flyers for the pet pics event for the shelter.

“You heading out?” she asked.

For someone pushing seventy, she moved fast.

Taylor shouldn’t be surprised by this, but he still was.

“Yep,” he said. Though he already knew he was too keyed up to go home to his quiet little house, on its brightly decorated street. He’d stop by Rudolph’s, grab a spot at the bar, and have a drink. The park was still full, and the after-party at The White Elephant would mean Rudolph’s would be fairly chill tonight.

“You didn’t go with Heath.” Mona sounded disappointed.

“The guy’s a movie star. What am I gonna do? Ask him to recommend me to the city council?” Taylor kept his voice light.

“You could have,” she said sternly.

He shrugged. “He’s nice. Handsome, too. But not my type.”

“What is your type?” Mona asked, and Taylor knew he had to cut this right off, right now .

“Getting the city manager job. That’s my type,” Taylor said, layering in a joking undertone. “You’d better be careful, you’re gonna give Nick Morgan a run for his matchmaking money.”

“I just hate you’re always so alone,” Mona said, and there was truth in her eyes. Affection, too. She really cared about him. And the town too. She’d devoted fifteen years of her life to it. Well, maybe Taylor hadn’t had fifteen years to give, yet, but he cared, too.

“And you hate that there’s a handful of people on the city council who’ll look at my application and wish I had a family,” Taylor retorted lightly. “Wish I was older. Wish I was settled .”

She smiled. “Yes, and that too.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Taylor said. Even though he had no idea how he would do that. Maybe he could come up with a positive spin on really fucking single and even more fucking alone.

“Of course you will.” Mona gave him a quick hug. “You’re so smart, Taylor. And the best thing this town could have. I wouldn’t be recommending you to take Martin Granger’s place if I didn’t think you’d be more than capable of doing the job.”

“I won’t let you down,” Taylor promised.

She patted him on the cheek. “You wouldn’t. Now go off and have fun, alright?”

Taylor didn’t know if quiet drink at Rudolph’s counted as fun, necessarily, but for him these days, that more than fulfilled the definition .

He walked over and had just settled down on a stool at the far end of the long wooden bar when a commotion behind him caught his attention.

Taylor turned and wished he hadn’t.

Rocco Moretti, the new owner of Jolly Java, and the only man to come close to heating him up in the last few years, was approaching, muttering and gesturing, clearly upset about something.

Don’t come sit next to me, don’t come sit next to me, don’t come sit next—

But Rocco looked up and down the bar, and even though there were several open barstools, took the one right next to Taylor.

Of course.

They’d met only once before, when in his official capacity, Taylor had dutifully gone to the coffee shop to welcome him to Christmas Falls as one of its new business owners.

It had been a completely routine sort of visit, one he’d done a dozen times before, except for the fact that Rocco’s good looks and charm had left him stammering and awkward.

“Hey,” Rocco said, leaning over right into Taylor’s personal space. With anyone else he’d have shifted his barstool over a fraction, making it clear just how much he wasn’t into having his bubble invaded by a stranger.

But Taylor didn’t move .

He let himself stay for a minute and just enjoy all that fucking warmth.

“Hey,” Taylor replied, adopting a very casual, very much, I’ll be nice, but I’d actually prefer to be left alone tone.

Even in the middle of winter, Rocco’s skin was a warm olive, like he’d just stepped off a plane from the sunny coast of Italy, his dark eyes bright and animated, full of fire. He tugged his hat off and dark curls spilled out, falling over his forehead.

Taylor forced himself to look away. It was annoying that Rocco Moretti was more interesting to him than Heath freaking Kelly, who was just here for a few weeks and would be a perfect way to break his long dry spell. Rocco Moretti, on the other hand, lived in town. Nothing with him would be simple, or cut-and-dried.

But apparently Rocco didn’t get his memo about being left alone, because he leaned in even farther, and Taylor swore he could smell coffee on his skin, he was that freaking close.

He didn’t like coffee, but he was afraid he liked Rocco.

“God, this town,” Rocco said. “I want to love it, I do, but it’s kind of driving me nuts.”

“I think that means you do love it,” Taylor said dryly.

He didn’t need to ask what had Rocco so hot under his collar. He knew. Rocco’s changes to Jolly Java had not all been welcome, and the town was a little pissy about that particular fact.

“Ugh, I think you must be right. We don’t always like the people we love, right?”

Taylor wanted to ask what kind of experience he had with that, with love , but he didn’t, because he wasn’t stupid enough to flirt with Rocco Moretti.

“Yeah,” Taylor agreed. He was predisposed to feel empathy for Rocco—they were both outsiders, and also undeniably because he wanted to—but Mona would probably caution him not to wade into this mess.

The town would eventually forgive Rocco, they always did, but right now they were giving him the cold shoulder. Punishing him for getting rid of their comfortable favorites and attempting to introduce them to goat cheese . . .or something.

Taylor had listened to several people complain one morning over his breakfast plate at The Snowflake Shack, and that seemed to be the conclusion they’d come to.

They didn’t appreciate being deprived of pumpkin spice and they didn’t want to like goat cheese.

Personally, Taylor didn’t have skin in the game, as he didn’t drink coffee and he was neutral on the concept of goat cheese, but he’d listened anyway. At the time, he’d told himself it was because he was the deputy mayor and it was his job and his responsibility to keep an ear out for relevant issues in the town, even if it was just gossip. But he knew, deep down, that wasn’t entirely why he’d listened .

Someone had said, very loudly, the name Rocco Moretti and his whole body had perked up.

Kinda like how it was doing now.

“Did you know I delivered a dozen boxes of cookies to the festival committee? Hand baked. Hand packed. Freaking hand delivered . They wouldn’t even listen to me.” Rocco sounded disgusted. “And Joel isn’t even who normally does it! Holly and Joelle did it every single year before he did last year’s, because of an emergency. I should’ve gotten that job back.”

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say—

“Maybe they thought you’d fill the cookies with goat cheese,” Taylor said, saying it anyway.

Enjoying, way more than he should have, how Rocco’s eyes lit up. In amusement. In passion. Probably in everything. Rocco was the kind of guy who never held back. Taylor didn’t even realize how cold he’d gotten until he metaphorically stripped off his gloves and held his freezing hands up to that warmth.

Rocco laughed, long and loud, not worrying about any of the sets of eyes that swiveled in their direction. “They probably do think that. I’m gonna have to come up with a goat cheese cookie, just to piss them off.”

“Maybe not,” Taylor said hurriedly.

“Or maybe I’d be doing it to tempt you into Jolly Java,” Rocco teased. “You haven’t been back since that first time you visited.”

Even if Taylor liked coffee, he’d have avoided Jolly Java on principle .

Self-preservation principle.

“I actually don’t drink coffee,” Taylor admitted. Stupidly, irrationally worried that his admission would mean Rocco would no longer be interested in talking to him.

That would be okay. You’d be okay with that.

“You haven’t had my coffee,” Rocco said, apparently not turned off, but in fact, intrigued by the challenge Taylor presented.

“My friend Joey’s tried for years.” Taylor rubbed his neck. Already feeling the prickle of inevitable disappointment. “Even in college, I wouldn’t.”

Rocco only looked more fascinated. “What did you drink instead? Don’t tell me you don’t drink caffeine? A hot, professional guy like you? I can’t even deal with it if you don’t.”

Taylor’s brain, mostly unaffected by Heath’s obvious interest, stuttered to a complete fucking halt at Rocco’s words.

“You think I’m hot?”

Rocco took his drink—unsurprisingly an espresso martini—from the bartender, and saluted Taylor with it. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “That’s not even a compliment. It’s just a plain fact.”

“Oh uh, thanks.” Taylor tried to accept the compliment like it was nothing, like guys who looked like Rocco Moretti told him he was hot all the time.

Maybe they might, Mona’s voice told him, if you didn’t freeze them out first .

“Anyway, what do you drink? Please tell me you’re not one of those clean-living types . . .” Rocco trailed off and gave him a look up and down, similar to the one Heath had given him earlier, but this one lit him right up. “Though you kinda look like one of those types.”

“Uh, no,” Taylor said, lifting his beer glass. “I’m drinking this beer, aren’t I? I . . .uh . . .well, I’ve got a very secret, very terrible addiction to energy drinks, if you have to know.”

“That stuff’ll eat your liver,” Rocco said.

“Believe me, that’s what everyone says, and yet I keep drinking them.” Taylor shook his head and chuckled under his breath. “Now you know the worst thing about me.”

“I like it,” Rocco said, surprising him.

“You do?”

“Yeah. Now I’m gonna have to tell you something. Um . . .well, you clearly already know about the pumpkin spice and the goat cheese . . .” Rocco glanced up at him, worry creasing his handsome features. “Don’t tell me someone complained to the mayor’s office?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” He didn’t tell Rocco about the overheard conversation at The Snowflake Shack.

“Okay, phew .” Rocco looked relieved.

“They’re gonna come around,” Taylor said as reassuringly as he could. “I really liked the changes you’ve made to the place.”

“Goat cheese and all?” Rocco asked.

“I’ve got nothing against goat cheese,” Taylor said .

“That’s my big secret, I guess. I love goat cheese and I want everyone else to love it, too.”

Taylor chuckled. “Baby steps, Moretti.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I went too fast before. I get that now. I won’t make that mistake again. But I just need to get people to come back—try the new-old stuff I’ve got. I thought maybe if I could get you in the door . . .”

“Ouch. Wanted only for my title,” Taylor joked.

“You think you could get the mayor herself—”

Taylor winced. “Sorry to disappoint. She’s a tea-only drinker. But I’ll mention it to her.”

“Ugh, this sucks,” Rocco said, taking another long sip of his martini. “You’ve got it so lucky. Your new job’s all lined up. You just gotta show up, right? And the city council will hire you.”

“That is not . . . not necessarily true.” Taylor hadn’t meant to say so, but once he’d started he couldn’t quite stop. “Mona’s worried that I’m too young, too single, and then there’s the fact that I’m not originally from Christmas Falls. It’s probably not enough to kill my application, not since there aren’t any other serious candidates. But if anyone else shows up? Ugh, I’m worried. I shouldn’t be, but I am.”

“She doesn’t like that you’re single?”

“Perpetually,” Taylor said wryly. “She was trying to get me to hook up with Heath Kelly—thought maybe I could convince him to smile and wave next to me a few times, I think. ”

“And you didn’t want to?” Rocco’s jaw dropped. “ Heath Kelly ? Man, he is crazy hot.”

“Maybe yeah, but not my type,” Taylor said, embarrassed now. It was one thing to discuss his desert of a love life with Mona and another entirely to discuss it with Rocco Moretti.

“You could always ask . . .ugh, who’s that matchmaker’s name . . .”

“Nick Morgan,” Taylor supplied. “But that’s really not my thing, to be honest.”

“I met him, too, and he was, of course , interested in hearing more about me, but I told him, I’ve got too much on my plate with this new business to think about a relationship but . . .” Rocco trailed off.

Taylor thought Rocco’s reluctance to agree to Nick Morgan’s schemes was more along the lines of never needing help getting a date than being too busy, but he let it go. At least until Rocco’s eyes brightened, like he’d just had a brilliant idea.

“That’s what we should do,” Rocco said, snapping his fingers.

“What?” Taylor asked warily.

“Matchmake ourselves!”

Rocco might have been the first guy in what felt like ages to actually have a chance at melting his chilly exterior, but that didn’t mean Taylor was ready to just date .

Not when the thought of Rocco made his palms sweat .

It would be like strapping yourself to a rocket, when you were only ready for a sparkler.

“It’s not like you think,” Rocco continued. “I don’t mean for real , I mean . . .like help each other out.”

Taylor’s brain supplied all kinds of ways they could help each other out—in and out of clothes, specifically—but he shut down those thoughts hard and fast. He had a job to focus on getting. And Rocco had his business.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Taylor said.

“So my cousin did this, and it seemed crazy at the time, but it worked out, in the end. Worked like a charm, too. He fake-dated this guy to get his mom off his ass about settling down.”

“And that worked ?” Taylor sounded incredulous.

“Oh, it worked,” Rocco said, shooting Taylor a very charming, unfortunately very convincing smile. “So, you need someone on your arm when you’re going to festival events. And I need an in with the town. Some reason for people to start coming back to Jolly Java. You’re the freaking deputy mayor—soon to be the city manager! What’s more part of the town than that ?”

It was an absolutely ludicrous idea.

Taylor wanted to tell Rocco flatly that he was not interested.

But he was.

Despite all the potential pitfalls and problems—not to mention the certified insanity .

“The final meeting of the council isn’t until April. That’s five months away. You really want to pretend to be my boyfriend for that long?”

Say yes. Say you absolutely do.

But Rocco just laughed. “Well, I can’t say it would be a hardship,” he said. “Plus, I’m gone for a month right in the middle of that time. I’m going to help out some family in Indigo Bay, for their Sweethearts Festival.” He paused and suddenly looked worried. “That isn’t going to be a problem, is it?”

“Let me get this straight. You’re worried about being gone for a month between now and April, but not worried about faking a relationship for five months?”

“Oh, how hard can it be? A few smiles, some hand-holding, maybe even a romantic date or two, they’ll all believe it, and then it’s just a matter of keeping up the charade.” Rocco leaned in. There was that smell of coffee again. But it was sweeter, too. Spicy, almost.

It was unexpectedly intoxicating.

Intoxication must have been the only reason Taylor said, “I’ll think about it.”

Rocco’s nearness had totally gone to his head.

“Aw,” Rocco said, having the nerve to both look and sound disappointed. “Come on. It could be fun. And useful. Emphasis on useful, if that’s what you’re into.” He shot Taylor a particularly mischievous look. “I have a feeling you are, actually. ”

“Kind of comes with the job,” Taylor said wryly. “The one I have, and the one I want.”

“Are you really worried about not getting it? From what I hear, you’re practically already hired.”

Taylor shrugged and finished his beer, setting the glass on the coaster in front of him. “Yes and no. Yeah, I’ve got some strikes against me. But I’m the deputy mayor. The current mayor is endorsing me. And biggest help? There’s no other serious candidates for the position. Not that people haven’t applied, but I’ve got the most experience.”

Rocco nodded earnestly. “So nothing to worry about then.”

“Not according to Mona,” Taylor said with a chuckle. But yes, he was worried. Whether it was legitimate or not. There were still a few weeks for possible candidates to submit the necessary paperwork to apply for the job. Someone else without his three strikes and with the same or better experience, and he might have to resort to something extreme.

Something like Rocco’s semi-insane fake boyfriend scheme.

“But you will think about it, won’t you?” Rocco asked persuasively. Like Taylor might have forgotten in the last two minutes. Newsflash: it was hard to forget when anyone offered to fake date you. Doubly so when it was a someone who looked like Rocco Moretti.

“I will,” Taylor promised and slid off his barstool. “It was good seeing you, Rocco. And I’ll tell Mona to stop by your place this week. See if that helps. ”

Rocco brightened. “Thanks!”

Taylor considered that after he’d paid his bill and walked out the front door. Would asking Mona to stop by be helpful? It would, if she would actually do it. On the other hand, Rocco was probably right and dating him would be a far better option.

The nosy town would be piling into Jolly Java for a chance to get a second look at the guy who’d finally hooked the deputy mayor.

Embarrassing, maybe, but true, nonetheless.

He lived in a little one-story bungalow down one of the side streets, within an easy walk of downtown and City Hall. Unlocking the door, Taylor hung up his coat and scarf and walked into the living room.

Meredith, his sleek gray cat, was sleeping on her favorite cushion, and as he walked in, opened one glowing amber eye. “Meow,” she said, greeting him. Taylor went over and rubbed her head. Enjoying the way her soft fur comforted him. Maybe he was alone, but his life wasn’t lonely. He had his work, which fulfilled him, and the entire town to worry about and to worry about him in return. And then he had Meredith to cuddle up to at night.

“Should’ve hooked up with the movie star,” he murmured to her as his fingers sifted through her fur. “Would’ve been easier.”