A grin overtakes my face despite myself. “Fine. But if this fails spectacularly, I’m blaming you.”
“Deal. I’m excellent at blame-shifting.” Her playful smile is infectious, brightening every corner of the café.
Lucas returns, sliding our steaming mugs onto the table with a theatrical flourish. “One adventurous cappuccino and one unimaginative black coffee. Enjoy.”
“Thanks, Lucas,” Addison says cheerfully, her eyes dancing. “Try not to strain yourself with all that customer appreciation.”
Lucas bows dramatically. “I live to serve.”
We sip quietly for a moment, savoring the comfortable ambiance. Addison cradles her cup, breathing deeply, eyes thoughtful. “Okay, silent auction. We need at least five really enticing items to get people excited.”
“I’ve already got two commitments — free haircuts at Pam’s and a spa package from Whispering Waters.” I tick these off proudly, eager to show I’ve made some headway.
“Impressive,” Addison acknowledges, scribbling quick notes. “Let’s hit up antique shops next. Vintage always does well.”
I nod, hiding a smile behind my coffee mug. “Lead the way.”
She glances up, catching my gaze. “What?”
“Nothing. Just glad you’re on my side.”
Her cheeks flush lightly, a rare blush. She swiftly sips her cappuccino, then meets my eyes directly, confidence returning. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Dylan Smyth.”
“I believe you.” And the truth is, I do.
Addison taps her pen thoughtfully, eyes narrowing slightly. “Seriously, though, why does the mayor of Birch Harbor seem to be against us raising money?”
“I have my suspicions,” I murmur darkly, swirling the remaining coffee in my cup.
She leans forward conspiratorially, voice lowered slightly. “Just because he’s Cassandra’s father?”
“Cassandra probably egged him on. Jealousy seems to be her strong suit.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I thought we were over this,” I mutter bitterly.
“You know,” Addison says suddenly, eyes brightening mischievously, “there might be an easy fix. What if we put Cassandra herself in the dunk tank? People would line up around the block.”
I laugh loudly, picturing it vividly. “That would sell tickets.”
“Or better yet, dunk the mayor himself,” Addison continues, mock-seriously. “We’d probably raise enough funds for a year’s worth of events.”
“As tempting as that is, I think we’d end up needing permits for bail money,” I joke.
She laughs, vibrant and contagious. “Fair enough. Persuasion it is, then.”
“And charm,” I add, watching her carefully. “Which you seem to have an endless supply of.”
She ducks her head shyly, smiling into her mug. “Careful, Smyth. I might think you’re flirting with me.”
“Maybe I am,” I reply boldly, holding her gaze. The air around us crackles gently, charged with possibility.
“Good,” she says softly. “Because it’s working.”
My heart leaps, pounding pleasantly against my ribs. We both smile, a little shyly, into our drinks. Lucas, ever watchful, glances over from behind the counter, his expression smugly knowing.
“See? Told you! About that matchmaking fee...” he calls out, interrupting the intimacy with playful teasing.
“Keep it up, Lucas,” Addison retorts sharply, eyes twinkling, “and you’ll be the one sitting in that dunk tank.”
Lucas shrugs theatrically, utterly unfazed. “Yeah, yeah.”
