with Mom’s upcoming surgery—a single-side mastectomy—she insisted she still intended to run for office, so there was no point in riling up one of her opponents unnecessarily.
“Well, then...” Sunshine’s uncertain tone betrayed that verbalizing gratitude wasn’t easy for her in this instance, almost as if she suspected she’d missed something in their exchange. That maybe he was trying to pull a fast one on her. “Thank you, Mr. Hunter.”
“Grady. And you’re welcome.”
But she didn’t depart. Instead, she stood looking at him almost expectantly.
“Was there something else?”
An unexpected smile surfaced. “I’m waiting for you to make the call.”
Oh, she was, was she?
A smile of his own tugged in response to the one that had made his breath catch, and he pulled out his cell phone. He wasn’t used to not being trusted to do what he said he’d do. But anything to keep the peace, right? And to keep Sunshine smiling like that. On Mom’s behalf, of course.
Under her watchful gaze he put some distance between them, then punched the contractor’s speed-dial number. “Ted. It’s Grady. I hear you’ve got your crew working this weekend.”
“A deadline’s a deadline,” the gravelly voice responded, his tone defensive. “I’ve never missed one yet.”
“That work ethic is certainly why you were picked for the job.” Grady cut a look at Sunshine. “But what do you say we extend it by a week and let you and your boys knock off for the rest of the holiday weekend?”
It would be cutting it close, but an extra week wouldn’t be a deal breaker, would it?
After a long pause, Ted chuckled. “That pretty artist complained to you, didn’t she?”
Grady forced a smile as he nodded reassuringly in Sunshine’s direction. “You’re welcome, Ted.”
“Pushover.”
Was he? “Glad I could help your crew out.”
The contractor chuckled again. “Be careful there, Grady. You’re playing with fire.”
“Sure thing. You have a good one, too, bud.”
Pocketing his cell phone again, Grady moved back to Sunshine. “All done.”
From the wary look in her eyes, she clearly hadn’t anticipated he’d willingly accommodate her. A sense of satisfaction rose, catching her off guard, throwing a wrench in her assumptions.
“Anything else?” He needed to get back inside. They’d be cutting the cake shortly and he’d promised a toast. “I know you’d once approached Hunter Enterprises about leasing the property next door to expand the Artists’ Co-op, but we’ve long had plans for it. We’ll do our best to be a top-notch neighbor.”
“It’s true we could use the additional space, but it will be nice having a bookstore in town.”
He frowned. “Bookstore?”
“You’re opening a bookstore, right?”
“No.”
“I heard it was going to be a bookstore.”
“It’s not.”
“Then, what—” her words came cautiously, reflecting a growing dread in her eyes “—will be going in next door to us?”
“Hunter Ridge Wild Game Supply.”
“When you say wild game,” Sunshine ventured without much hope, “I don’t suppose you mean a place that sells video games?”
Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of Grady’s deep blue eyes and she steeled herself against the engaging grin. This was Grady Hunter, ladies’ man, and she’d do well to keep that in mind. He’d been unexpectedly accommodating about the renovation next door. What was he up to?
“No, I mean a store that sells equipment and supplies for processing wild game. You know, stuff for making elk sausage and venison steaks.”
Okay. Deep breath. She could handle this. Her great-great-grandfather had, according to her grandmother, been a marksman who’d put food on the table with his hunting skills. She herself wasn’t any more squeamish about wild game than she was about buying chicken or a pound of hamburger at the grocery store. But some Co-op members might disagree.
“Not solely in-store sales, but online, as well,” Grady continued, a note of pride in his voice. “Once we pass inspection, we’ll also be officially licensed to do processing demonstrations as well as process game donated for regional food pantry programs. That’s what the ongoing renovation is about—to put in a commercial kitchen, freezers, the works.”
She stiffened. Processing on the premises? Services that meant hunters hauling their field-dressed trophies through the front door? On the other hand, how could she object to feeding the hungry?
She must have hesitated a moment too long, for Grady’s eyes narrowed.
“You have a problem with that?”
Not wanting to give the impression she was opposed to the idea, she offered what she hoped was a convincing smile. As a candidate for town council, she had to weigh her words carefully. It wouldn’t be wise, two months before an election, to give the majority of those living in a town catering to outdoorsmen the impression she had issues with that.
She glanced toward the parking lot where Tori was no doubt watching and wondering what was taking her so long. “I personally have no problem with it, but some gallery customers and Co-op members may.”
“That’s unfortunate.” He didn’t look concerned. “But your worries are unfounded. We won’t hang carcasses in the window or mount a deer head over the front door. It will be low-key. Discreet.”
“You do understand my problem, though, don’t you?” She looked to him in appeal. “Our members are trying to create a welcoming atmosphere for shoppers of the fine arts. The gulf between the two worlds might be disconcerting for some.”
“I know a number of hunters who appreciate the fine arts and who, in fact, are award-winning painters and sculptors of wildlife. Maybe the Co-op should expand its horizons and find a way to better serve the foundation that Hunter Ridge was built on.”
“Taxidermy?” She flashed a smile. “I don’t think that would go over well with local artists who call this town home.”
“Then, it sounds as if folks should have researched Hunter Ridge more closely before coming here, doesn’t it?” He quirked a persuasive smile of his own. “You could move the gallery, you know. If not to another town, there are empty buildings that I imagine would be suitable.”
“Unfortunately...” Sunshine drew in a resigned breath “...the Co-op
