Excerpt 1:
The mayor is ten minutes late for our dinner meeting. I figure I’ll give him another five and then I’ll go ahead and order my food to go. 

I’m about to signal to the waitress when a very pretty woman wearing jeans and an orange sweater approaches my booth. She’s average height but not at all average looking. Her hair is a touch lighter than classic auburn but it’s not what I’d call red. “Hi there,” she says while sitting down across from me. “I’m Ashlyn.”

Well, this is awkward. I wonder if she thinks I’m her blind date or something. “Jamie Hayes,” I say, expecting her to realize her mistake. 

“I know. You’re the captain of the Ice Breakers, right?”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” 

“I doubt it, because I don’t know you.” She takes a sip of the water glass the waitress left for the mayor.

“If you don’t know me, then why are you sitting with me?” 

The question seems to startle her because she looks up and stares at me like a deer in the headlights of oncoming traffic. “I forgot you didn’t know that I was meeting you instead of my father.” 

“You’re Mayor Thompkins’ daughter?” Holy heck, is the mayor trying to set me up with his daughter? I don’t care how pretty she is, that’s not cool.

“My dad got stuck in a meeting and he asked me to come in his place,” she explains.

“So, you’ve been tasked with trying to talk me into co-chairing Maple Fest?” If I had to guess, I’d say this was intentional manipulation on the mayor’s part. Little does he know I have no problem saying no to an attractive woman. 

“I couldn’t care less if you co-chaired Maple Fest,” she says. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t do it. My dad is a lunatic about that event.”

Now I’m super confused. “So, you’re here to tell me all about Maple Falls?”

“Nope,” she says, before turning her menu over to look at it.

“Why are you here then?”

 

Excerpt 2:
After she leaves, I turn my attention back to Ashlyn. “I don’t usually get ignored. You must be something special in this town.”

“No more special than every other kid who grew up here. The difference is, I didn’t stay. As a result, when I come home, some of my old friends get excited.”

“Where do you live?”

“Los Angeles. I went to college at UCLA, and I stayed.”

“I’m from New York City.” 

“I go there often for work.” She explains, “I’m a closet designer for rich people. A lot of my clients have homes on both coasts.”

Shaking my head, I tell her, “I can’t imagine needing someone to organize my closet for me.”

Her gaze moves from my face to what she can see of my outfit. “Not much of a clothes horse, huh?”

It feels like she’s judging me and for some reason that irritates me. “I have over fifty pairs of shoes,” I brag.

“Wow.” The accompanying laughter makes it clear she’s not impressed. 

We sit quietly for long enough that I once again think about getting my food to go. But then Ashlyn announces, “My dad wanted to talk you and your teammates into holding a kissing booth at Maple Fest to bring in a bigger crowd.”

I nearly spit out the sip of water I just took. I force myself to swallow it before telling her, “That’s not going to happen.”

She scoffs. “I know, right?”

What does she mean by that?

She seems to realize I’ve taken offense because she adds, “Not that women wouldn’t want to kiss you. I mean, I’m sure someof them would …” Just clearly not her. Which is fine, because I don’t currently want to kiss anyone, including her.

Yet, I can’t seem to help myself from boasting, “Women enjoy kissing hockey players.”

“Open your mouth,” she orders. 

I don’t know why, but I do as she instructs. She leans forward and peers inside. “It looks like you have all your teeth, so that’s a plus.”

“I’m still not going to volunteer my guys for a kissing booth,” I tell her.

Her face crunches up like I’ve just offered her a worm salad. “Please don’t. I’ve already told my dad what a disgusting idea that is.”

“You don’t like kissing men, huh?” I wonder if she’s gay.

“I most certainly do enjoy kissing men,” she says. “Just not strangers. And certainly not ones who’ve been kissing a lot of other women.” She grimaces before adding, “I mean really, hockey players? Imagine where all those mouths have been.”

 

Excerpt 3:
“What’s going on?” Ashlyn asks me while skipping to keep up with my determined stride. 

I take two more steps before stopping. Then I look around to see if Emily is following us. When I don’t see her, I gently take Ashlyn’s elbow and lead her to a nearby bench. Once we’re seated, I confess, “I made a huge mistake.”

When I don’t start explaining myself right away, she prompts, “Go on.”

Sighing dramatically, I tell her, “I’ve been avoiding the press ever since Allegra left me. All they want to do is dig up dirt and make me look like a jilted fool. I want no part of that.”

“I suppose they’re just doing their job,” she says like that somehow makes it okay to drag me over the coals. 

“Right.” Running my hands through my hair, I tell her, “Dale set up the meeting with Emily, and as expected, she did her best to make me look pathetic.”

“So, you told her you were dating me?” She doesn’t sound pleased.

“I told her I had a new girlfriend. I might have mentioned her name was Ashlyn, but only because your name was the first one to pop into my head.”

“Are you asking me out?” Her tone can only be construed as horrified. How unflattering.

“Not at all,” I assure her. “But I don’t suppose you’d be willing to go along with the charade until you go back to Los Angeles?” I feel like a hopeful puppy waiting for a bone. Or at the very least, a pat on the head.

Ashlyn is quiet for so long I’m sure she’s going to say no. But then she asks, “What would being your fake girlfriend entail?” 

I hurry to tell her, “You would have to be seen with me occasionally. I would pay for everything, of course.  And whatever you want on top of that.”

Her eyes glitter with excitement. “Are we talking shopping sprees here?”

“I suppose.” Up until this point, Ashlyn has not struck me as that kind of woman, but I don’t really know her well. If she wants to shop, I can get behind that.

“Just kidding,” she laughs. “What I really want is for you to agree to be part of the bachelor auction.”

She sounds so hopeful, I’m tempted to tell her the truth, that I’ve already been ordered to step up on the auction block. Yet, I don’t feel it’s in my best interest to share this piece of information. “I would absolutely participate in the auction.”

 Her smile is radiant, and I feel an unwelcome stirring in my chest. I remind myself that I’m not really going to be dating Ashlyn. If being with Allegra taught me anything, it’s that there are enough complications in relationships that you shouldn’t go out of your way to look for more. And Ashlyn living in LA is a giant complication.