to. You can win her over on our behalf, make sure she does the town justice.”
Jake shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else.”
Gus scowled. “You’ve been a promoter of this town since you moved here half a dozen years ago, but you were the lone dissenting vote against participating in the competition. I still don’t understand what you have against the idea when you know how it will help our town.”
“It’s not that I—” How could he explain it without divulging matters he’d rather not divulge? Rolling back from the desk, he took pleasure in the comforting creak of the old-fashioned wooden chair. It was a perfect match to the desk that dignified his book-lined office, but he’d paid a steep price for it, figuratively if not literally.
Gus smacked his beefy hand on the desktop enthusiastically, mistakenly interpreting Jake’s sudden silence as evidence that he was making persuasive inroads. “Her blog is nearly as popular as that rancher woman’s. You know, the gal who also has the food show? My wife says she almost feels as if she knows her, and that’s how Macy comes across, too. Like you could sit down next to her for a long, cozy chat.”
Jake managed not to choke. Sit down for a chat? Right. That’s exactly how she wanted people to feel—it’s how she got them to lower their guard and open up to her.
He straightened, his gaze lingering on the framed photo of his grandparents, the only decorative item on his desk. “Look, I think Larry and Don or one of the others will do fine. She seems to take a fancy to local color. You can’t beat them for that.”
“No, but...” Gus darted a guarded look in his direction. “Larry, Don and Hector are married. Macy’s not.”
Jake chuckled. “Do you think Andrea, Melissa and Dionne won’t let their men out of their sight as long as Ms. Colston’s in town?”
“Not exactly.” The big man fiddled with his wristwatch. Gus might look and speak like a country boy at times, but he was a shrewd businessman. Something was on his mind even though he was taking his sweet time getting around to it. “You’re not married, Jake.”
Jake placed the pen on his desk and pinned the mayor with a frank look. “Where are you going with this?”
Gus reached again for the handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “Married men have obligations. Commitments. Loyalties. They have to be careful not to give anyone the wrong impression.”
“And?”
Gus wadded the handkerchief in his fist. “As a single man, you’re a free agent, so to speak. You’re at liberty to sweet-talk Macy Colston into portraying us in the most favorable light without anyone questioning your behavior.”
“What exactly do you mean by sweet-talk?”
Gus glanced at the snow dancing outside the window rather than meeting Jake’s gaze. “You know...turn on the charm. Sweep her off her feet. Put stars in her eyes.”
Jake stared at the now-blushing mayor. “Are you saying you want me to fake a romantic interest in this journalist to manipulate her impressions of Canyon Springs?”
“Who’s to say you’d have to fake it?” Gus’s expression brightened. “She’s more than pretty. Smart, too. You’re a good-lookin’ man, or so my wife and oldest daughter tell me. On the sober side, maybe. But you’re easy enough to get along with most of the time, just like your grandfather was. With some effort on your part, I bet you and Macy would hit it off.”
No way would he woo Macy Colston, no matter how noble the cause. He’d steer clear of her in the coming weeks, keeping an eye on her through her blog posts and stepping in only if a questionable situation warranted it. Even if he had any interest in seeing more of the woman—which he didn’t—he had more pressing obligations than babysitting a tenacious journalist. Seeing to Grandma’s welfare for one. The Canyon Springs history book for another. And he had to make sure the city council didn’t do something stupid with the property his grandfather had willed to the town. What had Granddad been thinking when he’d done that anyway?
“Now look, Gus, you know I don’t—”
The big man waved him away. “If you want to get the rest of the council on your side about what to do with that prime bit of real estate the city inherited, it might serve you well to put effort into this. You know, prove you’re a team player.”
Gus had a point. Even though he didn’t vocalize Jake’s added hopes for the vice mayorship, Jake knew the other man was thinking about it, too. There were those who still said his election last year was a fluke considering his sole opposition had abruptly withdrawn from the race. But then again, this was Macy they were talking about....
“Can’t spare the time, Gus.”
“You work too hard. Need to loosen up.” The older man folded his arms. “If you won’t step up for the good of the town, do it for yourself. Have a little fun for a change. This might be your last chance to catch the eye of a looker like Macy Colston. You’re—what? Thirty-two? Thirty-three?”
Thirty-five.
“Give it a shot, Councilman. What do you have to lose?”
Jake stood and punched the intercom button on his desk phone. “Phyllis Diane, would you please call Rob McGuire? I’m supposed to meet him at Singing Rock. Tell him I’m on my way and I apologize in advance for being a few minutes late.”
“Happy to oblige, Jake,” his office assistant responded with a soft Texas drawl. Always amiable, even when putting in Saturday overtime hours, he nevertheless figured it was only a matter of time before she headed for greener pastures and left him and his law partner high and dry.
He pressed the off button and, mustering a smile, snagged his Windbreaker from the antique coat tree behind him. “I appreciate your confidence in my persuasive abilities, Mr. Mayor, but this case is officially closed.”
* * *
Macy’s cell phone played a merry tune and she crossed the room to pull it from the purse she’d left on what looked to be a homemade quilted bedspread. In fact, everything she’d seen of this two-story log cabin lodge and restaurant oozed rustic charm, from its wooden-planked porch to a natural stone fireplace in the lobby to her antiques-filled room. The whole town held such promise...if it wasn’t for Jake calling Canyon Springs home.
“It’s about time you answered.” The familiar voice of her agent-publicist carried across the miles with her usual crisp, no-nonsense tone. You’d have thought she was a native New Yorker and not a Midwestern transplant.
“Hey, sis.” Brushing back her hair, Macy sat on the bed and kicked off her sandals. She’d have to buy more substantial footwear for the coming days if this weather kept up. A heavier coat, too. Maybe gloves.
“So are you at your next assignment yet?”
“I checked in right before lunch. But I should have brought boots.”
“It’s raining?”
“Snowing.”
Silence. Then came a cautious query. “The schedule shows you’re in Arizona...right?”
Macy
