is a celebration,” he said instead. He could tell she had another question, so he drew her to him, pressing one hand to her back and the other wrapped around her tiny, delicate hand.
And then all questions stopped. In fact, all talking ceased. While he was sure there was music playing, he didn’t seem to hear it. Because being this close to Riley, inhaling her sweet perfume, taking in her tempting red lips, took over all his senses. It was like he didn’t have room to notice anything else.
It should have been weird. Or awkward, at least. But for the first time, he wasn’t thinking of her as his oldest friend or the kid he’d grown up with. She was an adult now and his body was taking notice.
He drew her closer. Her body felt good up against his. His hand traveled over the exposed skin of her back. He could feel her breath tickling his neck as she moved closer to him.
He had no idea how long they danced, Riley in his arms as they swayed to a song. Two songs? More than two songs?
Sawyer would have remained just like that forever but Jasper Dumont appeared at his side.
“Sorry to interrupt, guys.”
Riley jumped back, a deer-in-headlights expression on her face. She gave Sawyer a long once-over before mumbling something and quickly making her way off the dance floor.
“Riley, wait,” he called. Shoot. What had just happened? Seriously, what the hell had just freaking happened between them?
“Sorry, dude,” Jasper said, a sheepish expression on his face. “I didn’t mean to...” He gestured between Sawyer and Riley’s retreating back.
“No, don’t worry about it. We were just dancing.”
Jasper’s eyebrow quirked as the two of them made their way toward one of the bars. “Just dancing, huh? Trust me, I know all about just dancing. Well, I am sorry, but I interrupted for good reason. There’s someone here who really wants to meet you.” He turned to the man next to him. “This is—”
“Dan Melwood.”
Sawyer accepted the handshake from the tall man with dark hair, just beginning to gray at the temples.
“Dan was born in New York but he lived in Bayside during his high school years,” Jasper said. “He left years ago and is an entrepreneur who is considering adding to our local economy. Dan, this is—”
“Sawyer Wallace,” Dan once again jumped in. “Publisher of the Bayside Bugle.”
Sawyer raised a brow. “Publisher, editor in chief, reporter, head of ad sales, you name it. Life at a small-town newspaper.”
Jasper left them to talk. Sawyer and Dan grabbed drinks at the bar and moved to a quiet corner. Dan was in his fifties, only a little younger than Sawyer’s parents. As Jasper had informed him, Dan graduated from Bayside High, went off to college and business school, and then spent the next couple of decades building his businesses. He dabbled in real estate and construction. He explained to Sawyer that occasionally he invested in struggling companies, helping them improve their processes so they could turn a profit. Sounded like he’d helped out quite a few restaurants and commercial businesses in the state.
Now he was interested in Bayside. Particularly in the Bugle. He seemed to know a lot about newspapers, as if he’d done his research. Sawyer was impressed.
“I have to admit that I’m intrigued by this Bayside Blogger you have in the Style and Entertainment section.”
Sawyer fought an urge that was somewhere between pride for Riley and protectiveness over her. “The Bayside Blogger is certainly our most popular column.” He offered a small chuckle.
“And your most enigmatic.”
Dan’s smile faltered. Just slightly and only for a fraction of a second. But it was long enough for Sawyer to note.
“The blogger is definitely mysterious.”
“And not always accurate.”
Sawyer took a step back. “Actually, the one rule I’ve made with the blogger is that every article, every tidbit of gossip has to be true.”
“That’s interesting,” Dan said, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “She happened to write about me last summer.”
Sawyer racked his brain and then remembered. “Oh, yes,” he said, choking slightly on bourbon. “I vaguely recall the piece. Maybe that’s why your name is so familiar.”
“I was back here visiting for a month or so. I can assure you what she wrote was not true.”
He couldn’t remember exactly what Riley had written, but he made a mental note to go back through the archives when he left tonight. Sawyer prided himself on journalistic integrity. It was the number-one thing he required of all his reporters. “I apologize if that’s true. I will certainly speak with the blogger and we’ll print a correction if it turns out we were wrong.”
Dan’s face paled slightly. “Don’t worry about that. Anyway, I won’t leave you in suspense any longer. There’s a reason I wanted to meet you tonight and talk about the paper.”
Sawyer perked up and put his empty drink on a nearby table.
“I know it’s hard times for print publications,” Dan said.
Not what Sawyer had been expecting to hear. It was also a subject that he went out of his way to avoid. He had so much to figure out in the next couple of months. No matter what, he had to save his family’s legacy.
Dan leaned closer. “Quite frankly, I can’t believe you’ve lasted this long.”
“A lot of new businesses have been flooding the area. That’s helped,” Sawyer explained. “Our online edition is going strong and we’re utilizing our new app, and social media, of course.”
“All good things. And I’d like to discuss this more in depth because I want to make a proposal.”
Sawyer was all ears.
“I suggest that I come on board as a partner for the Bugle. I can offer you financial support, and maybe together we can figure out a way to save the newspaper.”
Sawyer wanted to jump for joy, but he spotted his father across the dance floor. His head was tilted toward his mother’s ear and, whatever he was saying, his mom was laughing hysterically.
Every single person in the Wallace family who had touched the Bugle had left an indelible mark on it. His father, in particular, had really done his best to keep the paper afloat. He’d been the one to go digital, long before most small-town newspapers looked to the internet.
Legacy firmly in mind, he refocused on Dan. “That’s quite an offer. But, as I’m sure you know, the Bugle is a family-run business. It’s been in the Wallace family since its launch issue.”
“I realize that. In fact, I heard you’re celebrating the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary this year. Quite a milestone. But, as I told you, I have made my fortune on turning around failing businesses.”
“Do you have any experience in media?”
