Ellie Harper's pulse raced as she stumbled into the Willow Creek Harvest Festival dance, her heart a wild drumbeat against her ribs. The town square glowed with fairy lights, couples twirling under a makeshift canopy, and the air thrummed with fiddle music and laughter. But for Ellie, it was a battlefield. Gus, with his relentless meddling, had strong-armed her and Max Bennett into a "truce dance" to calm the town's uproar over the development threat and Tessa's accusations. The letter from her grandmother about a hidden deed burned in Ellie's pocket, and the glimpse of "Deed" on that scrap from Max's briefcase haunted her. Was he her ally or her enemy? Her palms sweated as she scanned the crowd, spotting Max near the punch table, his gray suit a stark contrast to the flannel chaos around him.
"Ready to humiliate me again?" Max said, his voice dry as he approached, a glass of punch in hand. His stormy eyes flicked over her flour-streaked apron, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Or is that apron your secret weapon?"
Ellie's cheeks flared. "Only if I can smother you with it," she shot back, her tone sharp but shaky. She'd agreed to this farce to appease Gus and buy time to find the deed, but every step toward Max felt like a betrayal of Sweet Haven. Her grandmother's legacy depended on her winning this fight, not dancing with the man who could destroy it. Yet, her traitorous heart skipped at his nearness, his broad shoulders tense under that suit.
Gus clapped his hands, megaphone blaring. "Let's see some harmony, folks! Ellie and Max, lead the dance!" The crowd cheered, and Ellie's stomach dropped. She grabbed Max's hand—warm, firm—and let him pull her onto the floor, her boots tangling in her apron strings. Her first step landed squarely on his polished shoe, and he winced, steadying her with a grip that sent a jolt up her arm.
"Graceful," he muttered, his breath brushing her ear. "Did you practice that?"
"Shut up," she hissed, her face burning. "I'm saving my shop, not auditioning for ballet." Her clumsiness was a flaw she couldn't shake, a reminder of every time she'd tripped through life—dropping out of culinary school, leaning on her grandmother's recipes to survive. Dancing with Max, the embodiment of her threat, felt like a flawed choice, but the town's eyes were on her.
The music shifted to a slow waltz, and Max's hand slid to her waist, guiding her with surprising ease. Ellie tensed, expecting to stumble again, but his rhythm steadied her. "You're good at this," she said, surprised, her voice softening despite herself.
"Don't sound so shocked," he replied, his smirk returning. "I'm not just a suit. I used to dance with my mom." His tone dipped, a raw edge slipping through, and Ellie's chest tightened. A vulnerable moment—unexpected, unguarded. Was he human under that corporate armor?
Before she could respond, Tessa Vaughn stormed onto the dance floor, her sleek ponytail swinging like a weapon. "This is rich," she sneered, holding up her phone. "The thief and her corporate puppet playing nice? Check this, everyone!" She hit play, and the video flickered—Max, late at night, slipping into Tessa's bakery, but this time with audio. "The deed's the key," his voice crackled. "Find it before she does." The crowd gasped, and Ellie's blood ran cold. He'd been hunting the deed? Betraying her trust?
Ellie yanked her hand from his, her voice trembling. "You lied! You're after the deed to bury it, aren't you?" Her impulsiveness flared, and she shoved him, sending them both stumbling into a hay bale. Laughter erupted, but Ellie's heart shattered. She'd started to hope—stupidly—that he might help. Her grandmother's letter had sparked a fragile dream of saving Sweet Haven, but Max was the enemy all along.
Max caught her arm, his grip firm but gentle. "Wait, Ellie, it's not what you think. I was trying to delay the project, not steal it. My boss—he's pressuring me." His voice broke, a crack in his composure. "I need this deal to prove myself to my father, but I don't want to hurt you." His eyes glistened, and Ellie froze. A son desperate to earn a father's approval—something she understood, having chased her grandmother's pride her whole life.
Before she could process, Lila darted over, her braids flying. "Ellie, look!" She held a crumpled flyer from the festival, its edge torn. Scribbled in red ink was a map—crude, with an X marking a spot near the old mill. "This was tucked in your shop's storage with the letter! Could it be where the deed's hidden?"
Ellie's pulse spiked. A map? Hope surged, but so did fear. If Max knew, would he take it? She snatched the flyer, her hands shaking. "This doesn't change anything," she said to Max, her voice hard. "Stay away from me." But his wounded look lingered, stirring guilt she didn't want to feel.
The dance floor cleared as Gus announced a spontaneous dance-off, dragging Ellie and Max back into the fray. "Show us your truce!" he boomed. Ellie, still reeling, let Max lead again, her steps jerky. He spun her, and she tripped, pulling him down with her into a pile of hay. The crowd roared, phones flashing, but Ellie's laugh broke through her anger—a shaky, genuine sound. Max chuckled too, brushing straw from her hair, his touch lingering.
"You're a disaster," he said, his voice warm, almost fond.
"And you're a liar," she retorted, but her smile faltered. His closeness, the way his hand brushed her cheek, made her heart ache. She wanted to hate him, but that flicker of vulnerability—his father, his pressure—echoed her own fears of failing those she loved.
Tessa's voice cut through. "Cute, but it won't save you. That map's mine now!" She lunged, snatching the flyer from Ellie's hand, and bolted toward the mill. Ellie scrambled up, adrenaline pumping, but Max was faster, chasing Tessa into the night. Ellie followed, her boots slipping on wet grass, her mind a whirlwind. Had Tessa overheard about the deed? And why was Max protecting her now?
They reached the mill's edge, its shadow looming under the moon. Tessa waved the map, taunting, "This ends your shop, Ellie!" But as she turned, a figure emerged from the shadows—hooded, silent—grabbing the flyer and vanishing into the trees. Tessa shrieked, Max cursed, and Ellie's breath hitched. Who was that? The same shadow from the meeting?
Max turned to her, panting. "Ellie, I swear I'm not your enemy. But someone else is after that deed." His voice was raw, his fear mirroring hers. Was he telling the truth, or was this another lie? The mill creaked, a warning in the wind, and Ellie's heart pounded. The deed was slipping away, and with it, her last hope.