His old football teammate chuckled. “Should I check you for a wire, Kev?”
“Nah.” But Kevin remained uneasy.
The old grain mill looked cheerful covered in snow. A string of holiday lights in the shape of a Christmas tree on one of the silos completed the look. The current owner had put up the lights years ago. He turned them on every holiday.
In the summer, the site wasn’t so cheerful. The empty silos were rusted. Weeds grew through cracks in the asphalt. The office building was covered with graffiti. Local kids for ten miles each direction came here to skateboard and get up to no good.
Kevin shrugged deeper into his jacket and turned toward the interstate. He’d gotten state funding to build a stoplight there after two town residents had died trying to pull out onto the highway. The distribution center developers predicted one day there’d be an overpass here.
An overpass.
Doubt crept between his shoulders on spiked cleats. Being at the mill, imagining the changes that would take place, it became less of a puzzle piece necessary to his political rise. The worried words of his unhappy constituents echoed through his head, making him think about happy memories of Sunshine’s holiday traditions, like tree lighting ceremonies and mile-high whips.
If the distribution center moved forward, life in Sunshine would change, not just the landscape but the people. He just hadn’t realized how much until now.
“I have news.” Cray stood next to his truck. “I got management to approve some of your community projects.”
With Cray’s concessions, many residents in Sunshine would change their minds about the distribution center, or at the very least be more open to the idea. And that’s what scared Kevin. This project could really happen. For good or ill, rezoning the land so JPM Industries could open would change Sunshine and the surrounding communities. “I appreciate you going the extra mile.”
“Then…” Cray frowned. “Why do I get the feeling you created that list to scare us off?”
Here was the real reason Cray had chosen to meet at this location alone. He wanted to talk to his former college football teammate without others around to hear.
Kevin sighed. “Do you remember our senior year? When our safety and two defensive ends went down before the championship game? Do you remember that win or lose, everything was going to be on the shoulders of the offense? On us? I’m looking up at those silos”—instead of keeping his head down and his feet moving forward—“and I’m wondering if this is much-needed change or a soul-sucking disaster.”
“Kev.” Cray clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve never shirked your responsibilities before. If this is going to be an issue, let me know now. I can jump on our alternative location.”
If Kevin said yes, Victor Yates would be happy. And smug. His father would worry less about the family business. But there were people who’d be disappointed in Kevin if he lost his nerve. And he believed with everything in his being that the town needed this to survive.
Cray shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “No one can predict the impact of the distribution center with certainty, Kev. We just set up and run the plays the best we can.”
“And hope for the best.” Kevin stared at the man who’d protected him through four years of ground-pounding football. “Promise me your company will look to Sunshine residents first for hires, that they’ll be environmentally responsible and continue to be a good partner to the community.”
“You’ve got a contract and my word, man.” Cray’s gaze lowered. He resettled his booted feet in the unplowed snow. “But you know what corporate America is like. If you aren’t mayor and a Sunshine native isn’t on the management team when the terms of our initial agreement run out, someone may change the contract and do what suits them, not Sunshine.”
If all went as planned, Kevin wouldn’t be mayor when the initial terms expired. Things could go south if, say, someone like Victor Yates was elected mayor. Or if the distribution center failed.
They stared up at the lights on the silo.
A Christmas tree. It represented a time of year to appreciate family and tradition, to reflect upon your life and that of your fellow man, to forgive, embrace, and count your blessings.
“I admit,” Kevin said quietly, “this level of change scares me but I can’t let the opportunity pass. The population of Sunshine has been diminishing annually for the past ten years. If we don’t do something—”
“So, let’s do something.” Cray raised his arms as if signaling a touchdown. “Let’s go down as the men who saved Sunshine.” He wrapped Kevin in a bear hug.
Kevin patted his friend on the back. “Okay. I have a couple more weeks to garner support.” Until the town council meeting before Christmas. “And those donations of yours will help.”
“Geez, will you look at yourself?” Cray laughed, clapping Kevin’s bad shoulder. “You’re so tense. Go home and have a beer.”
“I’ll do that.” But Kevin stared at the highway. In the direction of Greeley. And Foxy Roxy. He knew a place where the music was so loud that he couldn’t think. But he could feel.
If Roxy was going to perform.
Not that he was headed that way. Not that a small town politician with more than his career at stake should be seen in a place like that.
* * *
Kevin hadn’t meant to drive into Greeley.
He hadn’t meant to park at the dance club, pay the cover—which was higher than before—and find a seat at the bar.
He wasn’t impulsive. He wasn’t reckless. He had a political career with hopes of moving on.
But he was curious. And he wanted to understand why he was fascinated by a woman who danced no more provocatively than she would as a backup dancer for a pop star. And perhaps he wanted to live on the edge a little before he decided once and for all to be the squeaky-clean politician who lived a predictable, practical life with his predictable, practical kindergarten-teacher wife.
Kevin ordered a whiskey and soda on the rocks, watering down his drink as much as possible and vowing to make it last all night. And then he scanned the crowd for anyone he might know. It was a more complicated task than the last time he’d attended, since there were more people and customers continued to stream in. He watched them in the bar’s mirror.
There were changes to the show too. It was no longer a stream of women put forth like they were in a dance competition where they got extra points for being sexy. There was a theme for the night too—eighties music. All the women danced to it. Some of the costumes were eighties throw-backs, if leg-warming garters and shoulder pads counted. They’d added group dance numbers, and the deejay was more than just an announcer in a tacky jacket. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself, telling a joke or two.
Heck, Kevin was enjoying himself, settling his elbows back on the bar and forgetting to check to see if anyone was watching him.
Roxy came out for her first solo performance dressed as a bride in a mini-dress. Her stockings were held up by white garters. Her high heels and mask were white, and her lipstick a vivid red. Her platinum hair was covered by a short wedding veil. As before, there was a single lock of red hair amidst the platinum.
Again, she challenged the crowd to watch, to engage, to be mesmerized. They were all of that and more. This time she only danced on stage. Again, the crowd surged forward as the music neared its end. She was handed bills. Despite his determination to remain detached, to remain loyal to the idea that there was something important brewing between Mary Margaret and him, he handed Roxy a fifty.
He retreated to the bar and waited for the promised second performance, selfishly hoping Roxy would work the crowd the way she had the first night he’d seen her dance solo. He turned his back to the stage and ordered a second drink. Found himself laughing at a joke or two tossed out by the deejay. Caught himself nodding his head to the beat of the music. Wondered if this need to be here was a wild hair, a product of his divorce, or a meltdown from the stress of being mayo
r and having his dreams within reach.
And then he realized it didn’t matter. For years, he’d chosen activities for their career traction rather than his enjoyment. Tonight, he was having fun.
An hour later, Roxy came on stage for the grand finale—this time as a biker chick in high-heeled boots, black mini-skirt, and a leather jacket zipped up to the line of her cleavage. Black mask, black lipstick, black hair. But still, there was that one slim lock of red, barely visible unless you knew what to look for.
When she was done, the crowd went wild. Kevin went wild, offering her another fifty.
You’re going to burn your career to the ground. Barb’s voice, sharp and accusatory.
You’ve always got the family business to fall back on. His father’s voice, less disparaging than he’d expected.
Obstinately, Kevin lingered as the dance floor lights came on and the crowd displayed their own moves. He imagined Roxy climbing into a sleek little sports car and driving away before anyone could wait at the stage door for her…autograph. He liked the fact that she was a mystery. It wasn’t as if he was going to date her. In fact, this needed to be the last time he caught her act.
He tipped the bartender and left, trudging through the thickening snow to the parking lot. Precipitation hadn’t been in the forecast until morning but that was Colorado weather for you, as unpredictable as Barb’s moods.
A lone figure stared at a motorcycle parked next to the Hanky Panky’s back door.
A lone figure wearing a helmet and a pair of form-fitting motorcycle leathers that displayed a familiar set of curves.
Hands on her hips, Roxy glanced over at Kevin.
The air left his lungs in a whoosh.
This was it. His political career balancing in an intact nutshell. He could leave Roxy to fend for herself and protect his nut. Or he could walk over, offer his assistance, and risk his protective shell being broken.
Before Kevin realized what he was doing, he’d started walking, boots sinking into six inches of snow.
Roxy turned her back on him and dug in her backpack. Probably for a gun.
“Do you need any help?” He slowed, holding up his hands.
“I’m fine on my own.” She’d removed her helmet, revealing a black knit cap. When she turned she’d put on her black mask, the one she wore when she danced.
The fantasy factor registered off the scale.
“Not the best night to be riding a bike.” Kevin forced words past a dry throat, sounding like Mr. Claus. “I can give you a ride…somewhere.” The flashing neon sign of the cheap motel across the street beckoned, and somehow his gaze drifted thataway.
“No, thanks.” Her voice was low and gruff but her gaze traveled that way too. “My mess. My clean-up.”
“I understand.” Boy, did he ever. “I was a Boy Scout.” Not information she needed to know. His hands were still in the air, as if she were holding him hostage, which, in a way, she was. “You probably have guys propositioning you all the time.”
That neon sign was truly eye-catching.
Snow fell between them while he waited for her to kick him to the curb.
“I have rules,” Roxy said in a faraway voice, gaze snagged by the same neon. “I’m a dancer, not…No one touches me unless they have permission.” And then her gaze swung around to him as if she wanted to give him the go-ahead to touch but was having second thoughts.
He lowered his hands. “Those are rules a man can abide by.” This man. This night.
This one time.
“I…” Her focus fell to his lips.
One night with her would last a lifetime.
The gold leaf on the dome of the Colorado state house flickered in his mind’s eye.
Or ruin everything I’ve worked for.
He swallowed.
“No names,” she continued, listing restrictions in that gruff voice. “No numbers.”
“Perfect,” Kevin choked out. She was just what the doctor ordered for a newly divorced man with a reputation to protect.
“All we need to do”—she closed the distance between them with a sultry walk—“is seal this deal with a kiss.”
He stood very still.
Her delicate hand came to rest on his cheek and drifted around his neck, drawing him closer. Her body pressed against his. And then her lips touched down.
She kissed with abandon. With passion. As if she had nothing left to lose.
Whereas he…
Tried very hard to feel, not think. She was like a decadent chocolate snuck from the candy jar before dinner, one he simultaneously wanted to devour, yet savor.
His hand found the base of her neck, a tendril of soft hair, the line of a delicate scar.
He deepened the kiss, making a silent vow to never show his face in the Hanky Panky again in exchange for…
* * *
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Mary Margaret ran away from Kevin.
From near disaster and that powerful, dangerous kiss.
She’d made a series of mistakes tonight. She’d driven her grandfather’s motorcycle. She’d left the saddlebags with the motorcycle’s snow chains back in Sunshine because it wasn’t supposed to snow. And then Kevin had shown up and approached her with his gallant innuendos.
She’d just meant to have a little fun with him. Tease a little. Scare him off with a kiss. But he hadn’t been deterred, and deep down she’d experienced an odd mix of emotions—feminine power because he wanted her, anger that he wasn’t being true to Mary Margaret, and longing for the kiss to be real, not part of her deception.
And then things got dangerous.
He’d slid his fingers around the base of her neck and into the hairline at the base of her skull, touching the scar, the one made when Dad had hit her and a corner of the bureau nearly paralyzed her.
Sinner.
That scar…She’d been reminded of all the things she had to lose if Kevin discovered her identity. She’d drawn back and bolted. Slower than she wanted, because she was wearing motorcycle boots and there was fresh snow on the ground.
Now what?
She looked up. There was the all-night coffee shop on the corner. She could phone someone—although it was one in the morning—or she could spend the money on an Uber to get home. Before she entered the diner, she remembered she was wearing a mask and peeled it from her face.
Mary Margaret ordered a cup of coffee and chose a booth as close to the back as she could, half expecting Kevin to follow her, to barge through that door and let it bang behind him while he pointed at her and shouted, “You.”
She blinked, because it wasn’t Kevin shouting in her mind’s eye. It was her father.
She picked up her phone, decision made.
Nearly an hour later, Lola’s new SUV pulled into the parking lot.
“Don’t ask.” Mary Margaret climbed into the passenger seat.
“You can’t call me in the middle of the night and not tell me what happened.” Lola turned in her seat, SUV still in park. She wore thick, fuzzy gray leggings and a New York Giants blue hoodie. “Are you okay? If something bad happened, I can call Drew.” Sunshine’s sheriff. Her husband. “He’s home.” But probably no longer sleeping.
Probably the only reason Drew wasn’t in the SUV with his wife was because he had a young daughter at home from his first marriage.
Mary Margaret tried to smile. “I’m fine. I just…” Bolted when Kevin kissed me. “I should have gone back inside…” But then she’d have had to explain her situation to Ned, and he might take any slip she made as a weakness he could exploit later. “And then I was stuck here. Thank you for coming to get me.”
Lola frowned. “That’s what friends are for.”
Lola drove slowly through the falling snow. She was a New York City transplant and clearly wasn’t comfortable driving in challenging road conditions. It took them nearly thirty minutes to reach the mill and its holiday lights.
Two tall, slender men of similar height and build were on the silo
catwalk too far away to identify. It looked like they were trying to spray paint. They probably didn’t realize it was too cold for the paint to spray or stick if it sprayed. They probably didn’t realize they were risking their necks up there on the icy catwalk for nothing.
Like I’m qualified to tell anyone they’re taking too many risks.
“What’s your feeling about that distribution center opening here?” she asked Lola, which was a safer topic than asking Lola her opinion of Kevin.
“If it creates jobs, I’m for it.” Lola successfully completed the turn from the interstate to the two-lane road leading to Sunshine. “But like you, I didn’t grow up here. I don’t have fuzzy memories about the way Sunshine has always been.” She reached for Mary Margaret’s hand. “Emotion is a tricky thing. Emotion overrides logic every time.”
Guilt tried to shake loose the truth. Lola was her friend. Mary Margaret didn’t like to hide things from her but she wasn’t ready to confess the truth either. “Is this where you expect me to confess I almost got carried away by a handsome man’s kiss?”
“No. This is where you confess what you were doing in Greeley in a sexy leather outfit carrying a backpack. You don’t even wear leather to Shaw’s.” Lola spared her a smile. “Why don’t you save me some guesses and tell me why you were in Greeley in the middle of the night.”
Mary Margaret passed her fingers over her lips, remembering the heat of Kevin’s kiss. “I’ll tell you some other time.”
“Hey, I had parents, and I’m a stepmom. I know that some other time means never.” Lola released Mary Margaret’s hand and sighed heavily. “You can talk to me. I understand getting a bit out of control after your husband dies.”
“It’s not like that.” But it was, in a way. Mary Margaret felt desperate, reaching for things she couldn’t have—like Kevin—and didn’t have time for—like Kevin. And it was all Derek’s fault.
When Derek died, she’d loved him, faults and all. And then she’d discovered just how deep his faults ran but she’d continued to love him, telling herself she needed to find it in her heart to forgive him. That’s what she’d been taught, even if her father was a hypocrite when it came to forgiveness. And now? Now the thought of Derek made her gut clench.
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