“Hey!” She stepped in on him, obviously taking offense. “I would never do that. The Hais are some of the strongest, most resilient people I know. I would never let them be painted in a negative light.”

“Aren’t you too busy with your photo shoots and your bar fights to really pay attention to what’s going on on set?”

“You’re an ass, Yates. But I’m still going to help your town, and guess what? I’m going to rub your face in it every step of the way,” Cat snapped back. They were toe-to-toe again in battle stances.

“I don’t like you.”

“Good because the feeling is beyond mutual.” She drilled a finger into his chest.

“I hate everything that you stand for.” He grabbed it, held it.

“Yeah? And I hate that you’d let your personal feelings stand in the way of the good of your town. So, I guess we’re even.”

She had a cocky damn mouth on her. “It’s my job to protect these people.”

“You make it sound like I’m coming in to rape and pillage.”

“You might as well be. You’re using this as fodder for public consumption. My friends and neighbors have been devastated, and you’re going to shove cameras in their faces and make money off it.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you think of me and my show. What I think we both can agree upon is we want that little girl in there to have a home to go home to.”

“The Hais can have a home without you.”

“I have the budget for April’s house, Reggie’s diner, and the park. I can also bring in an army of volunteers to help with the other buildings and homes. I’ve got the money and the resources. You just have to say yes.”

He swiped a hand over the back of his neck, fighting the tension that coiled there. He was good and fucked. There’d be no money from the state until mid-December at the earliest. Contractors were already in short supply with the bulk of the rebuilding happening in New Haven. Merry was looking at a desolate year end at best. No festival, no tourism revenue, and cleanup that would take them months and months into the new year.

He swore under his breath, hating himself.

“What about decorations?” he asked. “If you want us to have a Christmas festival worthy of national television, we’re going to need all new stuff for downtown and the park.”

“Done. Is that a yes?”

She was too smug, too sure of herself. She had him over a fucking barrel, and she knew it.

“Look, I’ll even throw in some kind of bullshit producer’s credit so you’ll at least have the chance to view footage before it airs,” Cat offered. “That way there won’t be any surprises.”