Page 9

For the love of God.

“I’m fully aware. I just have⁠—”

She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Stand there, look handsome, and let’s get some money for these kids, Dodger.” She gives me a once-over as if she’s disappointed in me. “My goodness. You act like ya don’t enjoy women fawning over you.”

I don’t.

Especially when Mrs. Simpson is staring at me, and it’s making me uncomfortable. The woman is newly retired, and she looks at me like she’s planning a kidnapping, and it’s just weird.

This whole town is weird.

“Eighty dollars,” Agnes screams into her microphone because why not? “Going once…going twice…sold to the pretty little Lucy Valor and her dog.”

Oh fuck me, no.

I immediately—and fatefully, apparently—lock eyes with the hot cocoa queen and don’t get her started on marshmallows. She squishes them to make sure they’re up to standards.

Then there’s her pet chow, whom she takes everywhere.

Sunflower.

And it’s a boy.

Inhaling some well-needed oxygen, I know there’s no way out of this.

I’m the sheriff of this town. I have to set a well-proposed stature in this town by being true to my word and assisting with the community. I can’t ghost her or not show up.

“Congratulations, Dodger,” Agnes says, giving me a little push off the stage. “Now, go on and meet up with her to set up a day and time. And make sure she pays before ya go on a date with that one. She’s always tryin’ to play stupid.”

Well, that’s one thing we can agree on.

Getting off the stage, Agnes immediately jumps into the next set, auctioning off Maverick Hale to do some light fixing on someone’s house.

How the hell did he get out of a lunch date?

“Henry!” a woman squeals to my right, causing me to stop mid-step down the stairs to find Lucy Valor moving around like a jumping bean with her dog tucked tight in her chest. “I won!”

Yep, I heard.

Loudly, in fact.

It’s hard, I’ll admit, to force a smile. Lucy is…something else entirely. I’m on good terms with her—with everyone here, really—but her bidding on me came from left field.

I’m just hoping she’s not looking for a daddy for her damn dog.

“I was hopin’ we could go on that lunch date right now,” she beams, suddenly latching onto my bicep as I come down off the final step of the stage. “I’m starvin’.”

“Well, I⁠—”

“Maple & Main,” she suggests excitedly as her dark blonde hair gets picked up by some of the warm spring breeze. “Oh, no, how about that food truck that serves up sandwiches and potato salad? Ya like potato salad, right?”

“Yes, but⁠—”

“Or we can do ribs, but I don’t wanna get my nails dirty.” She looks down at them, clutched around Sunflower. “I just got ’em done.”

“We can do whatever you want,” I vouch. “But I just need to⁠—”

“Lucy Valor,” I hear a feminine voice call out, quickly registering in my brain that it belongs to Adeline Kerrigan because why wouldn’t it? I’m only hearing it every other night on the phone or when I’m over at her house. “Ya forgot half of the pies you ate and didn’t pay for.”