Every year, after the Fourth of July, Oar’s Rest threw a huge feast for everyone in the town, locals and tourists alike. For the local businesses, it was something of a tradition to drag their seating outdoors, share grills, and dish up plate after plate of mouthwatering food.

Tom was on coffee duty, refilling French press after French press to make our signature iced coffee, while Lucy and I tackled the panini press. We sliced loaves, caramelized onions, and prepared the meat, cheese, and vegetables.

“Here, slide in a few extra of these,” I said, handing sizzling bacon to Lucy. It wouldn’t be an onion-bacon-Gouda without the perfect ratio of bacon to cheese.

While she finished up the BLTs with avocado and fried egg, I whipped up a plate of caprese paninis.

“I’ll start cutting those up for samples,” said Tom, peering over our shoulders. “After I get started on the whoopie pies and poutine.”

“You outdid yourself this year, Babe.” Lucy grinned. “Salted buttercream, Nutella, and vanilla cream cheese fillings? How did you find the time to make three kinds of pies?”

“Everyone makes whoopies. Figured we should do something to stand out a little,” I said.

The three of us pitched in without mentioning Ariel. She hadn’t come to work in so long that I figured she’d realized it wasn’t working out. Rather than let it drag out, I sent her a text to come and collect her wages.

Later, laughing at one of Lucy’s jokes, I felt rather than heard the door open. A gust of hot air hit the backs of my legs. “Levi,” I said, surprised to see him so early. “What are you doing here? The fish fry won’t start for another hour.”

Levi grinned, the indent of a dimple faint in his left cheek. “And the valiant prince showed up to save the princess, and she looked him up and down with disdain, and could only utter: ‘What are you doing here?’”

“Damn straight.” I smirked at him. “The princess saved herself by the time the prince finally showed up.”

“Oh, did she?” One eyebrow rose. “I guess you won’t be needing me, then.” He turned as if to leave, cheeky grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

His playfulness was too cute to ignore, so I gave in. I grabbed his sleeve. “So, brave knight, are you really here to save me?”

“Depends.” His eyes twinkled. “Can I have a cookie?”

At my nod, he moved forward, hand snaking behind me to take a waffle cookie. His sharp jaw came close to my neck as he bent his head; his angles and lines invaded my personal space until all I could smell was him.

I ached to kiss him. I inhaled as he drew away, popping the cookie in his mouth.

“This is really good,” he said. “Now, how can I help?”