style="font-size:15px;"> “Nope. I grew up a little over an hour away.” Cupid’s Bow was separated from her hometown by eighty minutes...and a world of experience. Back home, all she’d ever wanted was to escape. From the minute Colin had brought her to Cupid’s Bow, all she’d wanted was to belong. She loved it here. She loved the people and the open spaces. She loved that she could see an unending blue horizon unimpeded by skyscrapers, and brilliant stars not strangled by city lights or air pollution. “Cupid’s Bow is the perfect size for me. The population’s under four thousand, so it has small-town charm, but it’s not so small that the only businesses are eponymous.”
He raised an eyebrow. “E-pony-what-now?”
“Self-named. In the town I grew up in, there was one restaurant—Ed’s Diner. Never mind that it sucked. And the only place to get your hair cut was Shirl’s. Owned and operated by—”
“Let me guess—Shirl?”
She nodded. “There’s healthy market competition here in Cupid’s Bow, but we haven’t been overrun by generic franchises. It’s the perfect balance.”
“And you want to become mayor so you can maintain that balance?”
“Well, that...and I like telling people what to do.”
He laughed. “I feel sorry for the poor slob running against you.”
“That would be the incumbent,” she said, her mood darkening as she remembered Sierra’s text from earlier. Last election, Mayor Lamar Truitt had run unopposed. Displeased that Becca had the nerve to challenge him, he was constantly looking for chances at passive-aggressive sabotage. “Which reminds me, I have some phone calls to make. I should let you settle in.” She reached in her pocket for the key to the attic entrance, but hesitated. “I’ll have breakfast on the table at 6:00 a.m. I know that’s early, but I have to get Marc to school.”
“Actually, I’ll already be gone by then. Brody and I plan to get in some sunrise fishing before heading to look at livestock. He’s thinking about expanding his herd.”
She wasn’t so much interested in his plans tomorrow as she was in making a necessary point. “While you’re here, Mr. McCall—”
“Sawyer.” He gave her a chiding smile. “I insist.”
“While you’re here, it’s best if you come down to breakfast alone.”
His smile faded to a perplexed expression. “I just told you, I won’t be here for breakfast.”
“I don’t mean tomorrow, I mean in general. It would be better if you don’t bring any...guests to breakfast.”
Comprehension lit those gold-green eyes. After a moment, he smiled. “I see. Rest assured, I will only show up at the breakfast table as a party of one.”
Relieved to have that settled, she wished him a good night and turned toward the door.
She was on the staircase when he called from behind her, “No need to bring guests down for food, anyway. I can just keep the fridge stocked and serve breakfast in bed.”
It was still dark outside when Brody called to say he was turning onto Becca’s street, but, judging by the enthusiastic dawn chorus of birds outside Sawyer’s room, sunrise was coming. He went down the flight of stairs behind the house and had just reached the bottom when a pair of headlights shone across the driveway. He swung open the passenger door of Brody’s pickup, greeted by the welcome smell of coffee.
“You survived the night,” Brody observed.
Sawyer climbed into the cab. “Sorry to disappoint you—I know you want my truck if Becca decides to spike my food with hemlock. Give her time. I don’t generally drive people to homicidal rages until they’ve known me at least twelve hours. I hear you were completely unhelpful as a character reference, by the way.”
“You wanted me to lie to her? Cupid’s Bow is my home.” Brody sipped from a travel mug, handing a second one to Sawyer. “After you get on her nerves and she runs you out of town—or buries you in the city park—I still have to face her.”
“Don’t want to run afoul of the new mayor, huh?”
“It’ll be interesting to see who wins the election. Truitt’s sort of...blandly competent. Not someone who inspires devotion, but his cronies have a fair amount of combined influence in town. Becca could be great, if anyone bothers to vote for her. She’s outspoken—”
“Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”
“—and may have stepped on a few toes during her time on the town council. Half the town is afraid of her, and Jazz and I haven’t decided if that’s going to work for or against her. Maybe people will be too scared not to vote for her.”
Sawyer chuckled. “Well, she doesn’t scare me.” Rather, she intrigued him, her steel-spined demeanor a seeming contradiction to the house she’d decorated with soft, frilly things. And she amused him, with her unexpected playful side, as well as impressing him with how much she clearly loved her kid. Sawyer had a lot of respect for mothers; the only person in his family he tried to maintain a relationship with was his mom.
“Wait a minute.” Brody peered at him in the dim light of the glowing dashboard. “You like her, don’t you? I thought the two of you would drive each other crazy.”
Because she was admittedly bossy and he had a habit of provoking people—especially when it brought fire to a pair of unforgettable blue eyes? “Like I said, give it time.”
* * *
“...AND YOU JUST know the bastard did this on purpose,” Sierra concluded, pacing the length of Becca’s living room as she ranted.
Seated on the sofa with her legs tucked beneath her, Hadley Lanier nodded, her dark ponytail swishing. Her summary of the situation was the same as Sierra’s, but with significantly less cursing. “This is another lame attempt to sabotage you.”
Originally, Becca had invited the two women over for a girls’ night, since Marc was spending his Friday evening at dinner and a movie with the Whittmeyers. But plans for lighthearted conversation over sangria had become an impromptu strategy session now that Mayor Truitt had abruptly cut the budget for the upcoming centennial celebration.
“Emergency reallocation of funds, my ass,” Sierra said, snagging her wineglass as she passed by the coffee table on her next lap. “Everyone associates you with the celebration, which means you could lose the election if people are disappointed enough with the festivities. He’s manufacturing obstacles just to make you look bad.”
“Let him try,” Becca said calmly. The idiot had been trying to steer public opinion about her ever since January, when the paperwork had come in with enough signatures to officially qualify her as a candidate. At the Valentine’s Day celebration—which she’d chaired—he’d been careful to praise the job she’d done, while vocally “worrying” that the town’s needs were cutting into her family time with Marc. In an April interview with the Cupid’s Bow Clarion, Mayor Truitt expressed his gratitude for the support of his wife and grown children,
