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Bett comes in and shuts the door behind here before plopping down in her chair.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Do you think that Cormac is going to win?” She continues the earlier conversation.
I heave out a sigh, leaning back in my office chair. “Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to talk with the mayor much over the last few weeks, and my dad hasn’t heard anything either.” My father and the mayor meet once a week for lunch. As the head ranger for the local station, the two of them keep each other updated. I keep the warning Boone gave me about the Lewis family watching me to myself because the last thing I need is the purple-haired elder going on a rampage through town.
“You’re a good sheriff, Harlan. You need to get ahead of this and start lining your pockets with your own ammunition.”
“Bett, the best thing that I can do right now is my job. The same job I’ve been doing for years. By showing the residents of Everette and its leadership that I’m still capable and damned good at my job.”
“I’m just saying. You expect us to respect the town and this station, and we expect you to fight damn hard to keep that seat in this office. We don’t want a new boss, especially one as sleazy as Cormac fucking Lewis. So get to work.” She nods once toward my computer and then saunters out of the office.
Bett’s point hits me right as the door clicks closed. She wouldn’t have told me to find ammunition on my competition if there wasn’t ammunition to be found.
What are you up to, Bett? What do you know?
I can’t turn over my office to someone that isn’t going to uphold the values of the office, or the duty to the town. It’s not in me. Hell giving up my job — my career — something I’ve worked my whole life for to someone else isn’t in me, but here I am.
No. They’re not going to give Cormac my job. I’m a good sheriff. My accomplishments in this office prove that. They’ll see that when the time for the council vote comes.
With the pep talk comes the reminder that Cormac’s own father is on the town council, so he’s not without his own pull. If they’re watching me, then it’s only right that I do what watching I can back.
I’ll be damned if I give up on my town that easily.
On an exhale, I close the reports that aren’t getting finished tonight and open the database for searches and type in Cormac’s name.
Chapter 17
Maisie
The overly crammed diaper bag — full of everything Harlan might need for a week at war with an infant — hangs on my pretty much healed shoulder. I have Audra in my other arm and am balancing a plate loaded with chicken Alfredo in my hand when I stall at the back door of Harlan’s house.
My stomach jumps in a jittery mess, and I’ll be surprised if I make it through the whole business meeting without losing my ever loving mind.
I’ve never left Audra with anyone. I’ve been with her every single second since she was born, and to say I’m nervous is an understatement.
Hence the dinner. I needed something to occupy my mind, otherwise I would have canceled at least twelve times.
I need the money that this business meeting might bring me. I need the work to get my life back together like it was before that damned deer threw me a curveball I wasn’t prepared for.
After willing the anxiety tap dancing in my stomach to chill out, I raise my hand and rap my knuckles against the hunter green French doors that separate Harlan’s house from his back deck.
He’s been busy the last few days, and whether it’s the reelection, or the country music festival that starts tomorrow, I’m not sure. But he’s made a point to check in with me and Audra at least once a day — either by stopping by or by texting to see how we’re doing or if we need anything — and that also makes my tummy jump.
Was Jem right? Does Harlan have a thing for me?
I shove the thought away as the sound of the handle turning grabs my attention — and there he is.
Impossibly tall, broad shoulders, his beard trimmed neatly against his jaw and neck, tight abdomen, thick tree trunk thighs stretch his jeans, and the glimmer of an easy smile sits on his full lips with a satisfied gleam in his hazel eyes.
Good God, he’s handsome.
The thought makes a murder of crows take flight in the bottom of my stomach.
Harlan might have a thing for me, but I’m swiftly developing my own thing and that can’t be good.
After Sean, I should have a sign tattooed on my forehead that says “If interested, seek immediate medical attention.” I can’t trust my intuition with men.
