“Really nice?” her father interrupted. “A snake in the grass, I’ll bet. Just like his father. Full of venom, too.”
Scarlett glanced at her and tried again. “Click knows him pretty well—”
“Click Hale?” he snapped. “Hmph. I know he up and married your cousin Tandy, but that doesn’t magically erase his past. Makes sense he and the Wallace boy would be friends.”
“Click’s past?” India asked, her patience vanishing. Why she let her father get to her was a mystery she’d yet to solve. She wasn’t normally adversarial. But she and her father couldn’t seem to avoid ending every conversation with an argument. In this case it was justified. Her father was too quick to label and criticize. Now he wanted to judge the sons on the sins of their fathers. Click. And Brody. “Click Hale never did anything to anyone—except marry Tandy. And I’m pretty sure that was one hundred percent voluntary on both their parts. His parents’ drama shouldn’t be his burden to bear.”
All eyes were on her.
“You turn everything I say into an argument.”
She stared at him. She did?
“When did you get so fond of Click Hale?” her father asked.
“The day he became family,” she countered. “You’re the one who says blood is thicker than water.”
“Let’s try to have a peaceable breakfast,” her mother pleaded. “Cal, would you pass the toast, please?”
Cal nodded, passing the towering plate of toast to the other end of the table.
“Besides, Woodrow, I wouldn’t worry too much about Brody Wallace, dear. Mayor Draper’s done a fine job.” Her mother took a piece of toast. “I’m sure he’s not going anywhere.”
“No, in point of fact, Draper has not.” Her father stared at the newspaper. “The last few years he’s gotten downright lazy, and Fort Kyle’s suffered for it.”
India glanced at her father then, hearing the slight strain to his normally booming voice. He’d never hinted that their financial security was in jeopardy.
“Maybe a change is good?” Scarlett asked.
Her father scowled. “Maybe. If the change wasn’t named Wallace.”
India sighed, loudly, and rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you run, then?”
Her mother made an odd choking noise that had Scarlett patting her on the back.
Her father shook his head. “I’ve no interest in politics. I’m a little too rough around the edges, as you have all pointed out on more than one occasion.”
They all smiled then.
“Should we give him a chance, Papa? Mom says it’s important to give everyone a chance.” Cal shoved a huge bite of pancake into his mouth then.
Her father grunted. “Look how well that turned out when she married—”
“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Scarlett interrupted.
India chose to ignore her father’s reminder that she’d married a man he’d never approved of and moved on. “Does he have a solid platform?”
“He’s got little kids,” Scarlett said. “He’ll be thinking about their future.”
Her father grunted again. “Where’s his wife? A man who can’t commit can’t be trusted.”
“Well, dear?” her mother asked. “What is Mr. Wallace’s campaign platform?”
Her father glared at all of them before opening his paper. “Bringing tourism dollars back to the area, cleaning up and updating the schools and renovating the seniors’ community center with increased programming.” He snorted.
India exchanged a look with her sister and mother.
“Sounds smart,” her mother said. “Something for the young, something for the old and something the whole town needs.”
“He always was smart,” Scarlett said. “And nice.”
“He is,” Cal agreed.
“When did you meet Brody Wallace?” her father asked.
“In the Soda Shop,” Cal answered, his cheeks and ears turning bright red. “He said hi to Mom and me.”
Her father glanced her way. “Don’t go getting friendly with the Wallaces just to spite me.”
India put her napkin on her plate and stood. “Dad, believe it or not, I don’t take joy in getting your blood pressure elevated. I didn’t think exchanging hellos with the man would be a problem. We went to school together, we’re not strangers.” She left it at that. For now. “Cal, you ready for school?”
Cal shoved the last of his pancakes into his mouth and nodded, pushing his chair back.
“Are you working at the school today?” her mother asked.
“No. My test is coming up so I thought I’d head to the library to study. Unless you need me at the shop?” she asked.
“Not this morning.” She paused. “Could you come in after you pick up Cal? Just for a few hours? I need to get my hair touched up.”
With a nod at her mother, a quick hug for her sister and a stilted wave for her father, she and Cal headed out.
“Tanner?” Cal called, smiling as the large dog came barreling around the front porch and jumped into the backseat of the truck.
“Ready to go to town?” she asked, rubbing the dog behind both ears before climbing into the truck.
“Papa was sure in a mood this morning,” Cal said, slamming the truck door behind him.
“The name Wallace has always had that effect on him.” She started the truck, pulled onto the main road and headed into town.
They chatted the rest of the drive. Cal had to make a diorama for school, and he was determined to work a dinosaur into it—one way or another she knew he’d have the most impressive project in class. She pressed a kiss to his cheek as they pulled up in front of the school.
“Be good.” Not that Cal needed reminding. He was, always, good as gold.
He nodded. “You, too, Mom,” he called back to her. “Study hard.”
She watched him hurry inside, pulling forward only when the doors closed behind him. Tanner whimpered, so India patted him on the side. “He’ll be home soon.”
She navigated the quiet streets of Fort Kyle, bought a large coffee at the tiny diner that was open early and headed to the library. The streets were quiet, the sky shot through with a dozen shades of pink and blue, and the air was crisp and cool. She loved mornings like this—in Fort Kyle. The library wasn’t open yet, but Helen Jones, the librarian, would let her in so she had a nice, quiet place to study.
The amount of cars and trucks parked in front of the library was a surprise, but she didn’t let it slow her down. She pushed inside, Tanner at her side, and paused at the table set up right inside the doors. Among the group gathered, she recognized Miss Francis—and the woman waved her over.
“Well, I’ll be,” Miss Francis said. “Don’t tell me you’re here to volunteer for Brody’s race for mayor?”
India shook her head. “N-no. I came to study.”
“Good for you, India. A gal needs to be able to take care of herself these days.”
India nodded. “That’s the plan. And Cal, too.”
She hadn’t realized Brody had joined them until he said, “I admire an independent woman.” He was so tall she had to tilt her head back to see him.
“Morning,” she said.
“Morning. Coffee?” He stooped, inhaling. “Smells good.”
She held the coffee closer. “It is. And necessary for me to be remotely productive today.”
He chuckled. “Understood. Hands off the coffee.”
“So, is this headquarters now?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, this is just a meet and greet.”
“His first public appearance.” Miss Francis tilted her head. “You’re missing something. A tie?”
He frowned, running a hand over the pressed front of his blue button-up. It made his tawny eyes pop. “A tie?”
India laughed. “You make it sou
nd like a dirty word.”
He chuckled again, eyes sparkling. “It is. They’re damn uncomfortable.”
“Then don’t wear one,” she said, shaking her head. Had he always been this handsome? Surely not. She would have remembered it. Yes, all of her memories of Brody Wallace were pleasant, but not heart thumping. Not like this.
She wasn’t aware of the fact that they were staring at each other, not really, not until Miss Francis cleared her throat.
“Well, I should let you get back to doing whatever you’re doing,” she said, taking two steps back and colliding with a person behind her. “Sorry,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, and then stepping forward again.
Brody’s hands gripped her shoulders. “We’ll try to keep it quiet, so you can study. Chances are, no one will turn up.” He squeezed once, and let her go.
Miss Francis laughed then. “You take a gander out that window, boy. I’d say we’re heading for standing room only.”
India glanced out the front window to see the parking lot filling up. “Good luck,” she whispered.
“Wouldn’t need luck if I had coffee,” he said, smiling widely.
With a sigh, she handed him her coffee. “You owe me.”
He took the cup, his smile slow and sweet. “I do. And I look forward to repaying you.”
* * *
BRODY TOOK THE tie off and handed it back to the volunteer who had lent it to him an hour ago. He’d smiled for the cameras, answered dozens of questions and, he hoped, sounded like a respectable candidate for mayor. When his return to help his father came up, talk of his daughters and his divorce were briefly touched on. He was single and had three daughters—both were public knowledge. Dating status and what he might be looking for in a new wife were questions he laughed off.
He had no interest in dating right now.
With one exception.
“You did well,” Miss Francis said. “Real well. It helps that you’re so damn cute.”
He shook his head. “What’s next?”
“The Monarch Festival committee is meeting in three days. Might be a good idea for you to show up, do what you can to make sure it’s back on track, and ingratiate yourself with those on the committee. Mostly women, of course, but it can’t hurt. Many a man listens to his wife when behind closed doors.” She grinned. “You up for it?”
He nodded. “Sure. I’m a fan of the cattle drive as much as anyone, but the Monarch Festival kicking it off always made us unique. We need to get that back.”
“Glad you agree. Like I said, Friday, ten o’clock, out at Fire Gorge Ranch. Seems Mrs. Boone and Widow Lewis are co-chairs for the committee this year.”
He stared at her. “You want me to set foot on Woodrow Boone’s property? He might shoot first and ask questions later.”
“It’s an open meeting, advertised to the public. The committee needs people—most committees do. Especially if they’re going to try to get this in the works in four weeks’ time.” Miss Francis eyed his coffee cup. “Helped?”
He grinned, his gaze sweeping the library. No sign of India. A small part of him had hoped she’d listened in, maybe even been a little impressed.
“She’s still here,” Miss Francis said. “A gentleman would go buy her a coffee.” She paused. “Then leave the girl alone. You need to keep your head on straight, Brody Wallace. I’ve seen the way you look at India, and I’d advise you to wait until the election is over before you start courting her.”
“I’ve no plans to court her,” he whispered loudly, vehemently.
Miss Francis rolled her eyes. “I’m old, boy, not blind. I know how long you’ve been sweet on her and how long you’ve kept it a secret. All I’m saying is, a few more months won’t hurt a thing. I’ll see you Friday.” She walked away before he could correct her.
He stood there, staring at the bookshelves, racking his brain for a way to set Miss Francis straight. “Damn,” he mumbled. Could he? If he were smart, he’d do exactly what she said.
He set out, bought India her coffee and headed back—determined to do just as Miss Francis suggested.
But then he found India in a quiet corner on the floor, propped up against the wall. They’d taken most of the library chairs for his event, and he felt bad she’d been studying on the floor. But with her blond hair falling around her shoulders, and her glasses perched on the end of her nose, all he could think about was sitting on that carpet next to her and finding any excuse to stay.
“Coffee,” he said.
She stared up, blinking. “What?”
“Your coffee. Since I stole yours.” He held the coffee out, stepping carefully around her sleeping dog to reach her.
She grinned. “I gave it to you. Not exactly stealing.” But she took the coffee.
Not gonna sit. Not gonna sit. He sat on the carpet, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Nice spot.”
One fine brow arched. “I normally have actual chairs and a table, but some wannabe important person took them all.”
“Wannabe?” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I’d like to think I’m important to someone, somewhere.”
She smiled. “I can think of three adorable someones close by who probably think you’re the most important person in their world.”
He nodded.
“How’d it go?” she asked, nodding at the front of the library.
“Good turnout.” He shrugged.
“That’s it?” She tucked her pencil behind her ear. “Guess I’ll hear about it over breakfast tomorrow.”
He froze, pleasure blooming in his chest. “Are we having breakfast tomorrow?”
Her eyes went round. “No. I—I meant my dad...” She swallowed, studying his face. “I didn’t mean we’d have breakfast together.”
“Why not?” The two words were out before he could stop them. “We’re friends after all. And we both need to eat,” he added to hide some of his embarrassment.
“Oh.” Her forehead furrowed. “I only meant my father reads the paper every morning. It makes for a colorful meal. This morning the vein on his forehead was throbbing, thanks to you.”
He sighed. “Not so happy about the announcement?”
She shook her head.
“So I’m guessing breakfast is out, too?” he asked. Why was he pushing this? “I don’t want to stir the pot with your father.”
She stared at the book in her lap. “I’ve given up. There’s something to be said for knowing you’re a disappointment from the get-go. Makes screwing up less of a shock and more of a foregone conclusion.” The bite of her words was tempered by her lack of emotion.
“Sounds bleak, India,” he murmured. “All I see is a woman determined to be able to provide for herself and her son. That’s damn admirable, if you ask me.”
“Sorry. I think I just rained on your morning. I didn’t mean to. I’m really happy for you—and Fort Kyle, Brody. I know you’re going to do good things for this town. I’m glad so many turned out to support you.” She paused. “I mean, I didn’t hear any hecklers back here, so I’m assuming they were here to support you.”
He laughed.
“Where are the girls?” she asked. “There’s a reading time at eleven.”
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got plenty of time to get them and come back.” He pushed off the floor. “Since you won’t join me for breakfast, maybe you’d think about having lunch with the girls and me? After reading time?”
She glanced from him to her books and back again. He refused to acknowledge her look for the decline it was.
“I’ll take that as a maybe,” he said. “Keep up the hard work.”
She laughed. “I’m trying. But I keep getting interrupted.”
“Tell the next person who interrupts you to take a hike.”
“Maybe I will,” she said, waving and turning
back to her books.
He found a small study table and chair and dragged them back to where she sat. “You look uncomfortable,” he said, startling her.
“Brody. You didn’t have to do that.” But she was already putting her things on the table.
“Can’t resist. I’m a gentleman, after all.” He winked at her.
Her blue-green gaze locked with his, lingering long enough for the air between them to tighten and build. What would she do if he brushed that wayward curl from her cheek? His fingers itched to find out.
“Brody,” she managed, clearing her throat.
“Yes?” he asked, resisting the urge to step closer.
“Take a hike.” The words were soft, unsteady and dangerously husky.
He smiled. “Sounds good. Tomorrow. After you take Cal to school. I’ll meet you here?”
Her eyes went round, and she shook her head. “You are—”
“A genius,” he finished. “After all, I just got you to ask me on a hike. I’ll let you study now.” With another wink, he left her openmouthed and staring after him.
Chapter Five
The next day she was called in to substitute teach a kindergarten class. Mrs. Rios, the regular teacher, had left early the previous day with a stomach flu, and India got to hear all about how poor Mrs. Rios threw up in the hallway after running out of class.
“Mrs. Rios’s class is a handful,” Cal said as he was getting ready for bed after the end of her second day.
She smiled at her son. “Guess it’s a good thing you’ve got Mrs. Hamilton, then?”
He nodded. “She reads to us lots and has molding clay in her stations all the time—not just for special treats.”
India considered Mrs. Hamilton a brave woman. Molding clay, as she’d found out today, could be seriously disruptive in class. Especially when one student decided to fill another student’s nose with it. After a quick trip to the school nurse all was well, but those fifteen minutes had her rethinking her career field.
“Mrs. Rios is feeling better, so I think I’ll work at the antiques shop,” she said as she dried his wet hair. “And then it’s the weekend. Anything special you want to do?”
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