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Right as I switched off the lights in the back, my phone rang. I yanked it out of the pocket of my vintage apron I always wore while I worked. Laurel Adams’s name was on the screen.
The producer forLove in a Small Town.
“I need you at the inn ASAP,” she replied after as I pressed the ‘accept’ button.
“Hello to you, Laurel.”
“We need to have a chat, and I’m in a time crunch. How soon can you be here?”
“Uh, I’m closing up right now.” I glanced at the clock hanging in the café area. “Ten minutes?”
“Fine. See you soon.”
Slightly worried, I ran through the list of things I’d done to get the inn ready for the first day of filming tomorrow. Had I forgotten something?
“Everything okay?” Madison asked, gathering her bags she’d dropped by the stool.
“Laurel wants to see me at the inn.”
“About what?” Her furrowed brow mirrored my own.
“I don’t know. I checked everything against my list twice. The only thing left to do is the fireplace.”
“Maybe that’s it.”
Laurel’s voice held a mixture of intensity and excitement, and I couldn’t figure out what that meant. The only way to get an answer would be to meet with her.
“Yeah, maybe. Help me load this?” I snagged the oversized greenery I’d assembled and left on a table closest to the back.
“Sure.” Madison nodded and helped me maneuver the greenery out the front door to her car, where we draped it all carefully across the back seat.
As we climbed in to head the short distance to the inn, something deep inside my gut told me that whatever Laurel needed to speak to me about so urgently had nothing to do with flowers.
Blood roared in my ears as I attempted to stand normally, processing the words I surely hadn’t heard right.
“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that one more time?” My voice trembled a little as I leaned forward to grip the edges of the island in the middle of the inn’s kitchen. My assumption that Laurel wanted to discuss flowers couldn’t have been further from the real reason she’d called me there.
“Harper, I know this isn’t what we agreed to, but you’d be perfect. You’re exactly the age range of the contestants we’re looking for. You’re single—”
I took in a deep breath, trying to grasp for my inner balance and failing miserably.
“I’m supposed to be providing the florals for the show. My café is supposed to be a one-on-one date. Laurel, I’m flattered, but I’m not contestant material.”
Flattered wasn’t even close to the word I’d use to describe my current state. Panicking seemed more appropriate.
“Have you ever seen the show?”
Before I could stop myself, I grimaced. “Well, um…”
“That’s a no, and it’s fine. It’s not my thing either, but I know ratings gold when I see it, and you, my dear, are ratings gold.”
Squeezing my eyes closed, I shook my head. “I’m really not.”
“Oh, honey. You absolutely are. Crash course on our show: every season centers around our bachelor and the small town he comes from. Every season, we comb through all the applications of women desperate to find love, and we make our selections. And then, we comb through women in his life from that town that are still single and toss one into the mix. It’s done amazingly well for us.”
“Don’t you already have one from Pine Cove Springs?” I asked before I thought better of it.
“We do.” Laurel nodded, fiddling with a pen. “But that’s part of what makes you ratings gold, Harper. You would be an extra contestant from Pine Cove Springs. We’ve never done it before.”
