He’d half expected her to text him the night before. Maybe chalking it up to high tensions and alcohol. Maybe firmly stating it would never happen again. Maybe questioning if it would be the worst thing in the world to let it happen again…

Flashes of teeth and tongues and hands played on a disjointed track through his aching head. And he was hard again. Annoyed, Noah adjusted himself. He couldn’t remember the last time a fantasy had gotten him in its grips like this.

He picked up his gym bag, slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, and grabbed his to go mug.

For better or worse, he was ready for the day.

--------

An hour split between trying not to vomit on the treadmill and free weights, another cup of coffee and a bagel from Reggie’s temporary stand, and Noah found himself in his office still swamped in thoughts of last night. Was Cat really the woman Drake and Henry painted her to be? If she was, did that make his physical attraction to her less shocking?

He shook the mouse to wake up his desktop computer. As it lumbered into functionality, he put his voicemail box on speakerphone. He was into his fourth message when he realized he’d zoned out again and had to replay them from the beginning.

Noah forced himself to focus, taking careful notes the second time through. Then came the ocean of emails that washed into his inbox every morning like the tide. Along with the standard city manager stuff, now he was awash in media requests to comment on the Christmas special and the town’s recovery. Then there was the recovery itself. Email chains dragged back and forth between himself and dozens of other government officials, private contractors, and nonprofits.

It was his first major disaster in Merry and hopefully his last.

He opened his calendar on the computer. Today he had a meeting with the water and sewer authority and the council meeting. He needed to update his budget report and was thankful that they were at least seeing some immediate cash from the rental of the old high school. When all of this was said and done, he wanted to give some serious thought to permanently leasing the building.

A calendar alert on his phone popped up. Sara had a geography test today. He typed out a text wishing her luck, adding that he hoped she’d studied. He paused, thought better of it, and then deleted the fatherly warning, replacing it with an invitation for ice cream later. His stomach, still recovering from wings and way too much beer, rolled over at the thought. But Sara would enjoy it, so he’d pray he could leave his indigestion and poor choices behind him by the time she got out of school.