by Lori Wilde
Why would the girl understand the family feud? She had been an infant when the last big incident had occurred and she’d been brought up in North Carolina.
Melody marched in the meeting room armed with a smile and nothing else. Immediately the five board members, whom she’d known her entire life, surrounded her.
They shook her hand and hugged her and told her how proud and excited they were to have her back home and working for them. They plied her with coffee and doughnuts and settled her at the end of the table.
And for a silly minute there she had herself convinced that everything was going to be all right.
Mustachioed, silver-haired Ricardo Gomez, who owned La Hacienda Grill on Main Street, plunked down to her right. The restaurant had been in his family for over seventy-five years. On the walls of his Tex-Mex joint hung pictures of the movie stars who’d dined there—Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, James Dean, Sal Mineo, and Dennis Hopper while filming Giant; Daniel Day-Lewis and the cast of There Will Be Blood; Tommy Lee Jones, Javier Bardem, Josh Brolin, and Woody Harrelson from the Coen brothers’ version of Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men.
Next to Ricardo loomed paunchy Guy Grover, a distant cousin of Melody’s who owned the Chevy dealership. Guy was one of those big, colorful men who tended to dominate conversation, made the best backyard barbecue this side of the Pecos River, and bled Dallas Cowboys silver and navy blue.
Across from Guy sat Pat Yamaguchi, the tough-as-dragon-talons female proprietor of Pat’s Automotive Repair. She was the youngest of eight, all the rest brothers, and even in her late fifties, she could outshoot, hunt, and fish most any man in Jeff Davis County.
Junie Mae perched beside Pat and she gave Melody a three-fingered wave.
The remaining board member, Walker McCleary, a well-to-do pharmacist recently turned New York Times best-selling author, bore an uncanny resemblance to Teddy Roosevelt. He was Natalie and Zoey’s distant cousin on their father’s side. Kids loved him because he gave out bite-sized candies whenever parents had their prescriptions filled at his pharmacy.
They sat there looking at her like she held the keys to a treasure trove.
How was she going to tell them all that the plan she’d come up with to boost tourism had withered and died on the vine? Just like everything else in the godforsaken valley. She hadn’t even started her new job and already she was a failure.
The door opened and Luke stalked in, the diminutive mayoral executive assistant, Eloise Harbinger, trotting behind him.
“Got hung up at the hay barn. Sorry I’m late.” Luke flashed a charming, I-know-you-all-forgive-me smile around the room.
Her pulse galloped. Seriously? She was going there? Oh, come on.
He wore starched Levi’s with a razor-sharp crease and handmade cowboy boots. As he moved, he rolled down the sleeves of his white business shirt and buttoned the cuffs over thick manly wrists, and then he paused to shrug into the suit jacket that Eloise held out for him.
Melody tried not to stare, but she couldn’t seem to wrench her gaze away. He doffed his straw Stetson, dropped it onto the table, and ran a tanned hand through mussed hair, dislodging bits of hay in the process.
Eloise busied herself running a lint roller down his back, picking up bits of straw on the sticky paper.
He caught Melody watching him and his eyes darkened as he swiveled his head to take her in. An impish grin plucked at the corners of his mouth and deepened the dimple in his chin.
Was that a smudge of blush-pink lipstick on his neck?
He’d been kissing someone.
She put a hand to her stomach, sank deeper into the chair cushion. Gut punched. She felt gut punched.
That was fast. Just a week ago he’d been having sex with her, and now he was already kissing—or worse—some other woman.
She curled her fingers, jabbing her nails into her palms, and swallowed back the burn of bile. She was not jealous. There was nothing to be jealous about. Their time together had been brief, no strings attached, and that’s the way she wanted it. The man could kiss anyone in a hayloft that he chose to kiss. It was none of her concern.
She could not care less about Luke Nielson’s sex life. But good grief, he’d already been for a roll in the hay so early in the morning? What? Did he drink Viagra in his morning coffee?
No, not jealous at all.
Eloise plucked a Kleenex from her pocket, passed it to Luke, and motioned to a spot on her own neck that corresponded to the lipstick spot on his. Without even looking sheepish, he wiped away the lipstick, crumbled up the Kleenex, and tucked it into his pocket.
Melody pulled her bottom lip up between her teeth and bit down lightly, felt the hot vein at her temple throb.
He sank down into his seat at the head of the table, directly opposite from where she was sitting. Eloise landed on the edge of the chair beside him, a small tablet computer in her lap. She appeared prepared to leap to his next beck and call.
“Are we ready to get started?” Melody asked.
“You’re the consultant.” He swept a hand. “Take the bull by the horns.”
“All right.” She got to her feet and glanced around the table at the five business owners. Everyone looked at her expectantly.
Except for Luke, he was looking at her as if … well … as if he wanted her lipstick stains on his neck. Greedy man.
Realizing she’d gotten trapped in his gaze again, she broke eye contact and addressed the group at large. “I’m afraid I’ve got unfortunate news.”
That sent a murmur of alarm around the room.
“Because of the drought Quaker is rescinding their sponsorship of the cornbread bake-off and music festival I proposed to them.” She left out the part about Quaker being unhappy with her for not telling them she’d left Tribalgate. Was that dishonest? She ran a hand down the column of her throat.
Guy grunted. “Another one bites the dust. We should have known it was too good to be true.”
“What do you mean?” Melody asked. “Is there something I need to know?”
“Two weeks ago, Universal Pictures backed out of discussions to turn my biography of my uncle August McCleary into a movie,” Walker said glumly. “It was a big blow.”
“We were anticipating an economic boon because of that movie,” Ricardo lamented, his eyebrows dipped in a woeful expression. “Most of the area merchants have already put a small fortune into sprucing up their businesses. Myself included.”
“Plus with the water level in Lake Cupid disappearing, we’ve had to cancel all the water-related, income-generating summer activities.” Junie Mae sighed. “It’s a disaster.”
“I’m sorry,” Melody apologized, feeling responsible even though it was not her fault. The drought was beyond her control, but she’d let them down by losing the Quaker deal.
“Son-of-a-hog-tying-bitch,” Guy exclaimed, and pounded a hammy fist on the table.
“Can’t we hold them to their sponsorship?” Pat asked. “Threaten legal action? Hit them in the wallet, I always say.”
“The agreement was verbal. They hadn’t yet signed the contract,” Melody explained.
“But the Food Network celebrities are still coming, right?” A hopeful smile wavered at the corner of Junie Mae’s mouth. “I do so love Bobby Flay.”
Slowly, Melody shook her head. No Quaker, no music festival, and no trio of Food Network celebrity judges. No music, no celebrities, no spectators. No spectators, no additional tourists coming into town, and ultimately no tourists, no Cupid. It was the town’s only real source of revenue.
“But … but … I have already spent over ten thousand dollars on improving the restaurant.” Ricardo tapped his fingers rapidly against his palms. “I have niños in college.”
“I know it’s a blow, but we’ll think of a way out of this.” She had no idea what that solution was, but she had to trust her creative process. It rarely failed her. A solution would come to her
if she just gave it time.
Except the sands of the hourglass were draining out quickly for Cupid.
“This drought is going to ruin us all.” Junie Mae patted her severely hair-sprayed coif. “You know it’s bad when people are going three months or longer between haircuts and skipping massages all together.”
“Everybody take a deep breath,” Luke said.
“Easy for you to say,” Ricardo bemoaned. “Your income doesn’t hinge on tourism.”
“I brought Melody here, didn’t I? Just calm down. We’ll make it through this if we all pull together. Unity is the key.”
Melody scowled. “Platitudes don’t solve problems.”
“Neither does panic. We can’t let ourselves get caught up in a negativity spiral.” Luke cocked back casually in his chair, interlaced his fingers, and cupped the back of his head in his palms, looking far too nonchalant for the occasion.
“So what do you suggest we do?” She sank her hands on her hips.
“Try to relax. We’ve been through worse times.”
“Name one,” Guy Grover snapped.
“The Depression.”
“That was before our time and besides, the whole country was in the same boat.” Guy planted his elbows on the table.
“What about when Olive Cooksey embezzled half a million dollars from the town coffers. That was a pretty big deal,” Luke pointed out.
“Pierce Hollister saved us there,” Walker said.
“Damn straight.” Guy waggled a finger at Melody. “There’s your answer. Put together another fund-raiser with Pierce as the headliner.”
“I was already planning to ask Pierce to be the master of ceremonies for the bake-off. Now we need a new venue for him to star in. I can’t just put Pierce on an auction block and raffle him off to the highest bidder. Lace wouldn’t like that very much,” Melody said.
“Too bad.” Pat shook her head so fiercely the ends of her blue-black pageboy slapped the side of her wrinkled chin. “I’d bid on him.”
“You know,” Luke drawled. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“What?” Melody raised her eyebrows.
“A bachelor auction. Pierce couldn’t be in it obviously, since he’s not a bachelor but—”
“Are you offering your services?” she asked, purposely putting him on the spot.
“Would you bid on me if I did?” His voice turned silky and his eyelids lowered to half-mast.
Seriously? After he’d just kissed some other woman in a hayloft, he had the audacity to flirt with her? The turkey.
And yet her damn womb undulated as a sweltering heat slid underneath her skin. She was not falling for his smooth moves. No way. She refused to be seduced. “A Fant bid on a Nielson? That’s like asking a Hatfield to bid on a McCoy. Pure blasphemy.”
“Ah, c’mon now.” He flashed her a dazzling smile. “You’re not going to let something as silly as a century-old family feud get in the way of the town making a little money, are you? Because it’s past time to put that mess to bed.”
Bed.
The word hung suspended as his gaze latched on to hers again, and for some unfathomable reason she could not force herself to glance away. That single word conjured dozens of erotic images from their night together, the pictures coming so hard and fast it was like flash-flipping through the pages of the Kama Sutra—the Rocking Horse, the Glowing Triangle, the Padlock, the Bridge, the Reverse Cowgirl, the Nirvana.
“No,” she said firmly, a seedling of an idea planting roots in the back of her mind. “Not at all, in fact if we want to bring tourists to the town, I think the opposite is what we need. It’s time to stir the feud up again.”
“What!”
Ah, no longer Mr. Cool. “You heard me.”
Luke jumped to his feet and stalked around the table to where she stood, his warm masculine scent, all hay and leather and sun and sand, wrapping around her like a force to be reckoned with.
Well, that had certainly pushed his buttons. She’d never seen him move so fast or look so powerful. An electric thrill flipped along every nerve ending in her body, lighting her up like Christmas.
The board members glanced from Luke to Melody and back again, obviously awaiting fireworks. Eloise pushed her glasses up on her nose, and clutched her tablet computer with both hands.
He stepped closer, crowding her personal space, coming within inches of touching her, but she wasn’t about to back up or appear intimidated.
Goose bumps blanketed Melody’s arms and her throat tightened.
The impulse to reach out and touch him, to bridge the gap that time and distance had created between them, took hold of her. But she could not. She wouldn’t be here for very long and he would never leave. Besides, he was a Nielson and she was a Greenwood-Fant, and it was the original obstacle to a relationship that had never progressed beyond the tender bud stage. They could not change who they were. No amount of wishing could alter their DNA.
Ah, but if they were not in the fishbowl of Cupid, would it even matter that their families had hated each other for generations?
His face had gone stony as the Davis Mountains rising outside the window, all hard lines and angles, impossible to read. A faint half-moon scar curved out of his right eyebrow.
She knew how he’d gotten that scar because she’d been the one to give it to him. Fourth grade. Fencing match with cheap metal curtain rods with the rubber tips missing. Cloakroom of the First Baptist Church of Cupid when they played hooky from Sunday school.
“I must have misheard you all the way across the room. Did you say you wanted to resurrect our family feud?”
“I did.”
“You want to cause more trouble, light a match to that stale old gasoline?”
Melody squared her shoulders, notched her chin up. “I do.”
His nostrils flared. “Why in God’s name would you want to do something so divisive?”
“There’s a reason why Romeo and Juliet is the most poignant love story ever told.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” he growled.
All right, he looked pissed, but at least he’d asked the question. She’d intrigued him, which was more than she expected. “It’s also the same reason why John Fant and Millie Greenwood’s romance spawned not only a legend, but a tradition that has brought money into Cupid for almost a century. You can’t ignore that kind of mass appeal.”
“I’ve taken the bait,” he said. “Time for you to set the hook if you want to reel me in. What are you talking about?”
She held his stare. “Forbidden love.”
“What about it?”
“That’s the emotional appeal.”
“Forbidden, huh?” His sexy gaze drifted to her lips.
“Yes. You know how it goes, the more forbidden something is, the more you want it.” She was spinning this on the spur of the moment. Had no idea where she was going with it, but it was the right path, she felt it in her gut.
“Is that so?”
“Uh-huh,” she murmured, momentarily forgetting about everyone else in the room.
“Which is why I can’t ever lose weight on a diet,” Walker interjected. He took off his glasses and rubbed the lenses on the tail of his cotton shirt. “Cupcakes kept calling my name. Tell me that I can’t have something and I’ll move heaven and earth to get it.”
“Proving my point,” she said, unable to drop Luke’s stare.
“What does forbidden love have to do with the town’s financial difficulties?” Luke drilled her with his hot gaze.
“It’s the solution.” Or at least she hoped it was.
“How’s that?”
“It takes advantage of both the legend and the family feud. Play it up. We stage a reenactment of the major events that formed the town, including the love triangle between John Fant and Millie Greenwood and Elizabeth Nielson. We could even put on a Family Feud–inspired game show.”
“Sounds kind of limited,” skeptical Guy said.
&n
bsp; “Not if we have it as a running stage play at the True Love Performance Hall. Do you realize how many movies have been made about the Hatfields and McCoys legend? Why is that?”
“Controversy?” Junie Mae asked hopefully.
Melody pointed a finger at her. “Exactly. Conflict creates emotion and emotion is the reason anyone partakes of entertainment. It makes them feel something.”
“I’m feeling something right now,” Luke said, “and it’s not congeniality.”
“It’s a good idea,” she said staunchly.
“It’s a disaster is what it is. We are not poking the embers of that seething fire.” Luke’s eyes narrowed to angry slits.
“Why not?” Walker asked, putting his polished glasses back on. “Sounds entertaining to me. There’s a Hatfields and McCoys dinner theater in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. We could have something like that here.”
“You’re not a Nielson who has been wronged by Fants for generations,” Luke said. “That’s why not.”
“So it’s all the Fants’ fault?” Melody challenged. “Who was it that burned down Zeke Fant’s—”
“This is exactly why we’re not using the family feud to spur tourism. It would divide the town all over again. It’s dangerous. People could get hurt. I’m the mayor and we’re keeping things nice and peaceful. End of discussion.” Luke made a motion like a football referee declaring the play was no good.
“But you brought me here to turn things around and now you don’t even want to consider my recommendation?” Melody asked.
“Not on something this inflammatory, no.” His eyes darkened and he didn’t say it out loud, but she knew he was thinking about that horrible night that ruined everything that might have once been possible between them.
“You’re afraid to take chances, afraid to rock the boat,” she challenged, knowing full well they weren’t just talking about the matter at hand. They’d had a very similar discussion back in high school, when she’d wanted to make their relationship public.