“We’re short a judge. You have to do it. If not, everything will be ruined.”

“Whoa. Slow down. You’re short a judge for what?”

“The tulip contest. Dolores Simpson is sick. And I can’t find anyone who would be willing to judge that hasn’t already entered the contest. We have an equal number of judges now and that won’t do. So will you do it?”

He shook his head. “Hannah, I can’t do it.”

“But you have to.”

No way. Not happening. He’d already seen how seriously these women took this contest. And he didn’t need Agnes coming after him. That woman could be a bit intimidating, not that he’d admit it to anyone.

He cleared his suddenly dry throat. “Hannah, I can’t do it. I know absolutely nothing about flowers.”

Her face fell into a frown. That was not good. When she started to pout, his resistance always faltered.

“Pleeease…”

Ugh! He felt his resolve slipping away. And then a thought came to him. “But I entered the contest,” he said as a last-ditch effort to get out of this. “Remember, I entered my aunt’s flowers. She’d be so upset if I withdrew them. And I know which ones they are so I wouldn’t be an impartial judge. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll do it.” Ethan’s mother stepped forward.

“You would?” Hannah’s face lit up.

“That is if an outsider is allowed to judge.”

“I don’t know why not, but let me speak with the mayor and other judges. I’ll be right back.” Hannah rushed off.

“She’s amazing,” his mother said. “The fact that she would step up to help out with the festival for Aunt Birdie when she has so much going on in her personal life is remarkable.” Confusion reflected in his mother’s eyes. “But how are you two going to make things work? You know, when you return to New York.”

It was the same question he’d wrestled with many times. “We’re not. I mean it’s not like that. We’re, um, just good friends.”

His mother looked at him in disbelief. “I think the only two people who believe that are you and Hannah. The rest of us can see what you two are denying.”

Ethan’s gazed dropped to the floor. “You must have been talking to Aunt Birdie.”

“She’s kept me updated on everything. I just had to see it for myself. And she’s right. You two make a good match.”

His father cleared his throat rather loudly. “Clara, don’t you think our son needs to figure this out for himself.”

“But, Marshall, you know how stubborn he can be. Remember when he—”

“Clara, leave him alone.”

His mother sighed. “All right.”

Just then Hannah came rushing back over with a big smile on her face. “They said it would be all right for you to be a judge. Come on. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

And off they went, his mother and his…um, and Hannah. Because his mother wasn’t right. How many times had Hannah told him she needed to focus on her business? She needed to make her business her priority. And there was the issue of him being a firefighter. Or was it possible she was growing more comfortable with his profession?