In business one of two things happen—you win or you lose—and Sebastian Locke did not lose. Everything he touched turned to gold, his intuition was impeccable, and it had served him well. That intuition was how he’d found himself in Amber Falls, Massachusetts. As he sat behind his desk at the Amber Falls Bee listening to this vexing woman rail on him for yet another decision she didn’t agree with, he thought just once, maybe his intuition had been wrong.

“Sir, are you even listening to me?” Annabelle Winters, star reporter at the Bee, made an exasperated noise.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself brief respite.

“Sir, I have a million other things to do to get ready for the Summer Solstice. I don’t have time to watch you take a cat nap.”

“Winters.” Sebastian opened his eyes. “Name one thing that’s important enough to warrant my attention.”

“Peach pie.”

Sebastian’s mouth went dry. Together, the words described a delightful dessert. Separately, each word formed carnal images in his head and once he saw that picture floating around, peach pie would never be the same to him again. He’d known this was coming for months, that the town would have a peach pie bake-off, and he, in a small corner of the soul he’d never admit he had, was looking forward to this one seasonal celebration. He was from Georgia, and any good Georgian knew peach pie, dammit.

Annabelle slammed a paper on his desk, breaking him from his thoughts. “The blurb on the peach pie bake-off is just one of the items you need to approve for the layout. I have the Summer Solstice activity schedule that needs to get printed, and I need your signature to approve the outline.”

Sebastian leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out to rest on the top of his desk, crossing his ankles. He picked up the folder and flipped through it as if he had all the time in the world. Which he did—one of the perks of being the boss. But they had this conversation every three months, going over in minute detail each of the seasonal festivals Amber Falls held. Not wanting to have the same talk today, he picked up the pen and signed his name on the dotted line.

“Have a good night, Winters.” He flipped the folder onto the desk and closed his eyes once again.

“What?”

Sebastian counted to five before he forced his eyes back open. “You wanted the approval, and now you have it.”

Annabelle was visibly stunned at his change in attitude. In months past, they’d had vehement arguments about the tiniest details of the previous festivals. It appeared that he didn’t wear acquiescence well.

“You always have something you make fun of. Just like you did for the Fall Festival and Winter Wonderland.” It seemed like Spring Fling had just finished, and Sebastian was already sick of the anticipation the whole town had over the Summer Solstice Celebration.

“Winters, are you going to argue with me now about my not arguing?”

He lifted the folder and offered the approved layout to her again.

Annabelle narrowed her eyes at him, distrust clear on her face. “Don’t you want to know who plays in the softball game? Or what happens if no one shows up?”

He set the folder down and decided to see where this went. “Go on.”

“Whoever wants to. We meet on the field the morning of the game and choose teams. Before you ask, if there aren’t enough people, the adults grill and the kids play in the park.”

He sat in silence, willing his cheek not to twitch with amusement.

“You don’t want to know who chooses the movie for the outdoor movie night?”

Gesturing with his hand, he indicated she should proceed.

“City council does. Next will come a lewd, adolescent joke about how the peach pie is delivered for judging. After which I roll my eyes and you tell me how ludicrous the whole process is, that this town is wasting time and assets that could be better spent elsewhere.”

Annabelle stopped and held his gaze. He took this opportunity to look at her, to check her out. Not a leer, he was better than that, but an intense once-over—the kind he shouldn’t give his subordinate.

To call Annabelle pretty would be a gross understatement. She was gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that should be reserved for classical paintings, but the Birth of Venus had nothing on the Pique of Annabelle. She was a short spitfire and Sebastian was a tall man who topped her by a foot—less when she decided to wear skyscraper heels, which she often did. Her hair was an iridescent auburn that glinted a deep blue in the right light, but it was always up, never unbound, so he didn’t know its length. Her features were small and fit her face.

“Winters, you’ve just made my point for me.” He slid the folder over to her.

“I know you don’t get why these festivals are important to Amber Falls, but why do you have to give me a hard time every time I need the approval for one of the layouts?”

“I’d like to point out, I did sign the layout upon your first request. And I’m not giving you a hard time, I’m giving you shit. There’s a difference.”

“I fail to see what that difference is.”

“If I were to give you a hard time, I’d have you explain in detail why each of these activities is necessary to mark the Summer Solstice, because I can guarantee you that the season will turn to summer even if no”—he opened the folder back up—“flea market marks the occasion. Fall came, winter came, and spring has sprung, and you celebrated it with a damn May Day Festival. It all happened and will continue to happen for the rest of time.”

“Then why does it make a difference how we celebrate it?” Annabelle sat in the chair across from Sebastian and propped her legs up on the desk in the same way his were. He raised his eyebrows at her with her movement, but she didn’t remove them. “We all know the seasons continue to change and time marches on, but what’s so wrong with wanting to embrace those changes and be present in those moments? These are the things I remember from my childhood, the moments I remember with family and friends—the lazy days of summer vacation when there wasn’t a care in the world other than staying up late to watch the baseball game or my dad counting the time between lightning and thunder during storms with me.”

“I’ve never said I don’t understand why it happens and what the town is trying to accomplish, I’ve just stated that there are better things to spend time and money on.”

“That’s not how you’ve portrayed it,” Annabelle responded.

“Yes, well, there it is. And that’s why I’ll be running for mayor.”

They looked at each other for another beat then Annabelle stood so fast she almost knocked her chair over and pointed toward the door.

“Get out. Go home, pack your bags and leave town.”

Sebastian laughed. “Calm down, Winters, I’m joking.” He could see the pink blush starting to creep along her neckline. He did enjoy getting a rise out of her. “I don’t need anything else tying me to this town.”

“I don’t have time for your bad jokes, sir.” Annabelle gathered her notebook and folders from his desk. “Don’t you own your house? Isn’t that the definition of putting down roots?”

Smirking, he replied, “No, that’s just a good investment.”

“If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to leave for the night.” She stood waiting, the tip of one stiletto tapping on the floor.

“I needed to ask you about one more thing.” He gestured to the chair and Annabelle sat once more. He could see her fidgeting with the edge of the folder, now on her lap. “What’s your rush this evening, Winters? Hot date?”

Her half grin was that of a sly fox. “If you must pry into my personal life, yes, I do have a date, and I’m already running behind. What can I help you with?”

His stomach flopped at her admission, and he stopped himself from asking any more questions. “My sister, Sofia, is coming to stay with me for a while this summer. I want to make sure she’s comfortable and has what she needs to, how did you put it, be in the moment.”

“Careful, sir, I might start to think you have a heart. Besides, don’t you just go home on the weekends and plug into the wall like a Roomba? What could I possibly help you with.”

“Winters, please.” This was as close as he’d get to begging. “Prudence is busy and I could use some help making sure I have whatever she might need during her stay.”

Several moments passed before she answered. “Are you saying I was your last choice?”

Undeterred, he responded, “Of course you were.”

Annabelle got up and walked to the door. She’d laid one hand on the doorknob when she paused, turning back to face him. “As it should be. I want it noted that I’m only agreeing to this because I wouldn’t mind a favor from Sebastion Locke in my back pocket. When does she get in?”

“On Sunday.”

“Fine, I’ll be at your house Saturday morning.” She turned on her heel and left his office, shutting the door gently, compared to her usual slam.

Sebastian shuffled paperwork on his almost empty desk until he heard the front door to the Bee close. Slumping back in his chair, he took a fortifying breath. He wasn’t sure how to best describe his relationship with Annabelle. Their relationship, or lack thereof, wasn’t love/hate, more like hate/hate, or love to hate.

His mind wandered back to a few years ago in Atlanta and the reason he’d passed on a novel submitted to him by one Annabelle Winters, before she’d been an intern at his family’s company, Locke Communications. He hadn’t felt it. Nothing about it had been fresh or new. On top of that, she’d submitted a romance novel and romance wasn’t his…thing.

The decision to reject her novel had plagued him since he’d landed in Amber Falls. As he sat behind his desk, he thought maybe he’d been wrong just once in his life. He let his mind continue to wander around the memories from years ago. He might have used the words trite and mediocre. The words derivative and execrable might have slipped out before he’d given her a harsh rejection.

Would it have been worth it? To not listen to his gut for one time in his life to have peace now?

Yes. In the deep recesses of his black heart, doubt crept in. Just once he should’ve taken the hit, reputation be damned.

A loud knock sounded at his office door, and he jumped in surprise. “Come in.”

“Hey, boss.” One of the newspaper’s columnists walked into his office. “I’m about done for the night. Is there anything else you need?”

“Peter, you went on a date with Winters, right?”

Peter shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it a date. She ended up being more preoccupied by someone else on New Year’s Eve, if I recall.”

Oh, Sebastian recalled. He recalled her dress cut so low he swore when she moved a certain way her areolas showed, and he recalled her biting words, digging into him every time he spoke that night. Devlin Watkins and Gabe Atwood, two of their mutual friends, had reunited that evening and the drama that followed was worthy of a front-page spread in Person magazine. What he remembered most, though, was walking Annabelle to Devlin’s after Devlin had run off in a panic when she’d seen Gabe. Devlin lived above her coffee shop, Books and Beans, two doors down from Gabe’s bar, Finnegan’s. Midnight had passed and Annabelle had been preparing to leave to see if Devlin was okay. Leaving Sofia at the bar, he’d informed Annabelle he was walking her over, despite her protestations.

Annabelle had had plenty to drink that night, and had rocked a bit on her heels as he’d held the door open for them to exit, catching the tip of her shoe on the landing. She’d reached out, in what he could only assume was knee-jerk reaction, and grabbed his hand to steady herself. What surprised him most was that she hadn’t let go for the twenty or so feet it took to get to Devlin’s door. They’d stood at the entrance to Devlin’s loft, Annabelle swaying and Sebastian standing motionless, afraid that if he moved she’d break her intense gaze. He’d lowered his head, eyes now transfixed on her plump lips, and he was a hair’s breadth away, the warm puff of her breath warming his cold lips, when a raucous group of drinkers from Finnegan’s burst out of the bar and the moment was broken. Annabelle had turned and unlocked Devlin’s door, retreating inside, and it closed with a resounding thud.

Devlin and Gabe were now exclusive, and Sebastian and Annabelle hadn’t spoken of that night since.

“Boss?” Peter interrupted his thoughts. “You still with me?”

“Sorry, Peter.” Sebastian shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“That was the one and only time we went out and I think we were in each other’s company for maybe ten minutes total. That’s okay, though, makes things less awkward around here.”

“You had your eyes set on my sister, didn’t you?”

“Um, so anyway, you need me for anything else?”

Sebastian wasn’t about to let him off easy. He liked watching people squirm. “What piece are you working on?”

“Annabelle has—has me—” He stuttered at Sebastian’s raised eyebrows and corrected himself. “I’m working on this month’s births layout.”

“How many storks flew into Amber Falls this last month?”

“Twenty-one babies were born this month.”

Sebastian whistled. “That’s more than usual. The town has been busy.”

“We had an unseasonable cold snap in August, right before you got here. We always have extra births nine months after those.”

A cold front had moved through that foretold Sebastian’s arrival. He liked that imagery.

He waved his hand toward the door. “You can go. I’m about done here myself.”

“All right, boss, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sebastian was once again alone in his office and a now familiar feeling crept over him. It had come out of nowhere a few weeks ago. He’d never been restless before. Since he was a child, he’d known what he was supposed to do. He had an innate sense of internal direction, one that pointed him to his true north at every turn and was propelled forward by this.

He reached up and loosened his tie, a tightness there that wouldn’t go away even with the release of his shirt’s top button. He wasn’t restless to leave Amber Falls, and that was the part that was confusing him. The obvious assumption would be that this small town had gotten under his skin to the point where he needed to get out. To go far away from the festivals and the baby announcements and the peach pies. But he’d made friends here, friends he had more of a bond with than the trust fund cohorts he grew up with.

And the newspaper. Locke Communications was in the business of publishing and they had never owned a paper before The Amber Falls Bee, and Sebastian found that he was enjoying running it. Branching out into a world that was considered a dying business wasn’t easy, but these small newspapers were holding on. They were holding on despite all odds and that had a lot to do with the locals.

The locals. That was a loaded term. Sebastian had become friends with a handful of people born and raised in Amber Falls. Other than Gabe and Devlin, he’d met Prudence Hardwick, an interior designer, and her fiancé, Greyson Atwood, the retired movie star. Devlin was a recent transplant to Amber Falls, much like himself, but the others had known each other since they were kids. The link that connected them all was Annabelle.

He straightened out his desk while he contemplated where life had taken him. Atlanta was where he grew up and was also the headquarters of Locke Communications. Before that he’d gone where he was told—New York, Boston, Paris, London—anywhere the company was acquiring something or trying to build into emerging markets. His youth had been shaped by boarding schools and his adulthood by his job. He didn’t want to paint a bad picture, though. He was closer to his family than most people with his same upbringing and for that he was grateful.

Where did Amber Falls fit into all of this? A small town with a thriving college scene didn’t seem like any place that an up-and-coming thirty-something would find themselves, but here he was, approving birth announcements and thinking ahead to when the next dart night would be.

His eyebrows crinkled in confusion. Was Sebastian becoming a…local? Was he on the same level as Mrs. Crenshaw, everyone’s favorite nosy neighbor? He shuddered at the thought while the simultaneous thought popped into his head that becoming an Amber Falls local wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to him.