by Avery Flynn
“Are you as stupid as you look?” He stepped forward until he loomed over the shorter man, who took another step back. “You could have killed her. You’re damn lucky a broken nose is the worst of what you got.”
Carl gave the deputy a shifty-eyed glance. “I have no idea who or what you’re talking about.”
“Trying not to implicate yourself, eh, shit for brains?” Logan rolled back on his heels and shoved his hands into his pockets. “The troopers already have your confession. The one I recorded last night before knocking you on your ass.”
Carl’s face turned molten, and a splash of red bloomed at the base of his throat. “Why you—” The cell door rumbled closed, drowning out the rest of the other man’s words.
The deputy dropped his hand from the number pad controlling the doors. “Since you two can’t play nice, I’ll come back for you once the judge is finished with him.” He nodded his head toward Logan. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and you two will get assigned cells right next to each other. Watching that would be better than Pay-Per-View.”
The first part of the county council meeting flew by in a blur as Miranda’s knee bobbed up and down, her heel clicking against the floor. The council went through the roll call, the preliminaries, and a droning appeal from the First Baptist Church’s ladies auxiliary before Sheldon cleared his throat and leaned in close enough to the microphone that it caused a peel of feedback. People squawked in surprise and straightened in their seats.
“Sorry about that.” A deep red hue dominated the chairman’s cheeks. “Back to the matter at hand. The council has before it a motion to make it illegal to manufacture alcohol in Hamilton County. Salvation Mayor Tyrell Hawson has requested a few minutes to address this matter.”
The crowd murmured behind her, but Miranda refused to look back over her shoulder again at the man who caused this whole mess. He ambled up to the podium at the front of the room, smiling and nodding to folks as he passed them. Tyrell didn’t have any notes. She couldn’t detect a tremble in his hands or a nervous twitch around his eyes. This was a man who thought he had the whole thing tied up with a bow.
Too bad he was as wrong as mayonnaise on a MoonPie. If there was one thing a Sweet knew how to do, it was fight the good fight—even if it got a little dirty.
“Thank you so much for letting me have a moment of your time to discuss this important issue before the council. I come to you not as Salvation’s mayor, a position I’ve held for the past fifteen years, but as a father and concerned citizen.” He turned and looked meaningfully at his adult son and daughter as well as the gaggle of toe-headed children piled between them. “Not to mention, a proud grandfather.”
“And a little man with a big grudge,” Ruby Sue muttered under her breath.
Miranda shushed the older woman. She couldn’t afford to miss anything Tyrell said, not if she wanted to counteract it when her turn came.
“I am concerned about the serious, life-threatening dangers posed by alcohol manufacturing facilities. All having a brewery in Hamilton County does is endanger people. Breweries are treacherous places where explosions and fires are a distinct possibility. It’s only a matter of time. I’m sure every one of us here remembers when a worker at Gulch City Breweries sustained severe burns in a workplace accident. There have been other brewery accidents where people died.”
Annoyance heated her skin as effectively as a tanning bed. Uncle Julian was a lot of things, but he cared about the employees at the brewery. He’d made sure proper safety processes were followed, a plan she and her sisters adhered to now and would continue to do so. Her mouth was open, and the words of protest were on the tip of her tongue, but she snapped her jaw closed. Tyrell was playing to his audience already. She wasn’t about to give him a bigger stage by making a scene.
“My friends, let’s take a look at this specific brewery.” Tyrell shed the aw-shucks politician body language like a snake slipping off its skin. His jaw tightened, and his posture straightened. He slapped his palms flat on the podium and leaned his considerable weight forward. “We all know the Sweets. We know what kind of people they are. We know the trouble that nips at their heels like Satan’s puppy.”
The crowd buzzed around them in barely whispered comments to their neighbors. Miranda kept her head high and closed her hands into fists in her lap. She wouldn’t let them see how much she wanted to shrink down in her seat, just as she had all those times growing up, when people had shunned her and her sisters for being Sweets.
Sheldon banged his county council gavel, silencing the crowd.
The chamber doors creaked open, and Logan walked in with Hud and another man. Their appearance got the crowd murmuring again, but the men showed no sign of acknowledgement as they made their way along the far wall of the standing-room only chambers and squeezed in beside Mr. and Mrs. Franklin. Logan winked at her, and she wrestled with the competing urges to either melt in her seat or stomp over to chew his ass for putting himself in such a spot for her.
So this was what it’s like to fall for the now-tarnished prince of Salvation?
Miranda blinked rapidly as the world spun around her. That’s exactly what she’d done. She’d fallen—and fallen hard—for Logan. Not like in high school, when she’d been in love with the man he could become, but the adult version where she loved the man he had become. Her lungs contracted, and her eyes watered from holding her breath. And just when she thought her chest would cave in under realization’s weight, she forced herself to breathe. Oxygen flooded her bloodstream.
The room quieted, and Tyrell waited a few beats before continuing his diatribe. “I won’t go into all of the examples of disconcerting behavior from the Sweets, but I instead have this question to ask. Do you trust that the Sweets can keep the brewery running safely—especially when Miranda Sweet’s only motivation is make the place profitable so she can get a promotion at her real job in Harbor City?”
The stunned look on Logan’s face melted into hurt before solidifying into a neutral mask. Watching his expression change was like shoving an ice pick into her eye.
“Oh yes.” Tyrell nodded. “I talked to her boss, Patrick Bason, at DeBoer Financial. The only reason Miranda Sweet ever set foot back in Salvation was to advance her own career. She never planned to stay in Salvation, and she sure doesn’t care about what happens to the people here. She has no real, deep commitment to Sweet Salvation Brewery, and it’s only a matter of time before she abandons the brewery. Ladies and gentlemen of the council, you must vote to end alcohol production in Hamilton County and close the doors of Sweet Salvation Brewery.”
A few people clapped their support. Stuck in her seat at the front of the room, a lump clogged Miranda’s throat as she watched Logan turn, push his way through the crowd, and walk out the door, leaving her to face the town alone again.
Chapter Twenty
Logan stomped down the deserted hall. The sound of his boots hitting the tile floor echoed off the high ceiling as loud as thunder, but the sound couldn’t drown out the words he kept hearing repeated in his mind.
She never planned to stay.
She was leaving. Miranda would abandon Salvation—him—as soon as the brewery turned profitable. She’d confessed as much during their first truce by the Hamilton River, but hearing the words announced to the world with a sneer by Tyrell? That hurt. Bad. He felt like an orange traffic cone after it had been run over by a city bus, leaving him squashed, dented, and tossed over to the side of the road. But that didn’t mean he’d given up.
He slammed open the county council’s front door and stormed out into the crisp evening air. He hooked a right as soon as he hit the sidewalk and hustled across the street.
Being a shrewd asshole, Tyrell Hawson had hit every concern point anyone on the county council would have about the Sweet Salvation Brewery. He ran up the county courthouse steps, taking them two at a time, and hurried to the clerk’s office. Th
e clerk’s secretary, Ione Pike, worked late almost every night, and he hoped like hell tonight wouldn’t be the exception.
The clerk’s office doorknob wouldn’t turn, but through the glass he spotted Ione sitting at her desk. She had a pencil stuck behind one ear and a mammoth World’s Best Grammy coffee cup within easy reach.
Logan tapped on the glass, and she jumped in her seat, her startled gaze searching her surroundings before settling on him. Her shoulders relaxed, and she shook her head as she pushed away from her desk, then walked to the door and opened it.
“If you weren’t my godson, I’d have the sheriff arrest you for scaring the bejesus out of me like that.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He stepped inside the office, relieved no one else was there. There wasn’t enough time for the normal chit chat small town living required. Not if he was going to enact his plan before the county council voted. He had to show them that it was past time to stop blaming the Sweets for everything that went wrong in town. And to do that, he needed backup.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Ione gave him a once-over. “You aren’t here for more bail money are you?”
From someone else, those would be fighting words. From Ione, it was a love tap. “You’re always busting my chops.”
“Why do you think your mother picked me to be your godmother?”
“Because you’re the only sucker willing to take the job.” He squeezed her narrow shoulders. “I need a favor.”
“I’m listening.”
“I need the city’s founding charter and a copy of The History of Salvation.” A university history professor with an affection for digging up old dirt had written the book ten years ago. Its contents had scandalized the town, and they’d disavowed the tome even as they’d devoured it behind closed doors.
She didn’t even blink. “Does this have anything to do with that Sweet girl and the fool meeting going on down the street?”
“It does.” And his last ditch effort to get her to stay. He figured he had a fifteen percent chance of success, but he was done with sure bets. He cared about this. About her. Making things right with Miranda was worth risking a loss. Hell, it was worth everything.
Ione narrowed her eyes, but she went back to her desk and spent a minute typing on her computer. She clicked the mouse, and the printer buzzed to life. Next, she pulled a thick book out of the bottom drawer. By the time she strolled over to the printer, a piece of paper sat in the out tray.
“You know that stuff in the paper was just the opening salvo. If you tick him off any more, Tyrell will have a lot more bile to spew before he’s done with you.” She handed the printout of the charter along with the book over to Logan. “She worth it?”
“Without a doubt.” He grabbed a handful of the polished oval worry stones in a decorative dish on her desk and dropped them into a pocket. “Thank you for this.”
He was halfway through the door when Ione’s voice stopped him. “Your mother would be proud of you for this.”
“You think?” His breath hitched.
“Without a doubt.”
“Are there any other citizens who’d like to speak in favor of this vote?” Sheldon Monroe asked into the microphone.
The county council chambers fell silent. Everyone looked at each other to see who would be the next to step forward. Miranda forced her jiggling knee to stop bouncing. There wasn’t a damn thing she could do to change some folks’ minds. She only had to concern herself with the six voting members.
“Anyone?” Sheldon scanned the murmuring, but seated, crowd. “Well, in that case, is there anyone else who’d like to speak?”
Inhaling a deep breath, she knocked her shoulders back and raised her chin to face the firing squad. Giving Natalie a wink that was more bravado than confidence, she stood up.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to address the council.” Logan’s deep voice carried across the room from the back and hushed the chattering mass. They all turned to watch him walk to the podium.
Surprise knocked Miranda off her feet, and she thunked down into her chair. Her belly fluttered like the moment at the top of a roller coaster’s first big loop-de-loop. A stillness fell in the room. She could practically hear people’s minds wondering what Logan was going to say. Miranda was right there with them.
For his part, he looked as cocky and sure of himself as he had the first time she’d walked into his office. All brass balls and confident swagger. He didn’t look at her or acknowledge her presence in any way as he strutted by the front row. Laying a thick book and a piece of paper on the podium, he cleared his throat and gave the council a hard look.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to share with you the Salvation city charter.” He held up the printed page. “As you can see, there are two signatures here, one from Benjamin Martin and one from Matthew Sweet. With this document, they agreed to combine some of their land to found Salvation. If it wasn’t for the Sweets, there wouldn’t be a Salvation.”
Hope bubbled up inside her, making her limbs lighter. She snuck a glance at Natalie, who couldn’t hide her slack-jawed shock.
As Logan walked around the podium, the room was as silent as a man five minutes past dead. The six council members straightened in their chairs as he approached the dais. Miranda had been clasping her hands together so tight her fingers had gone numb. She loosened her grip and extended her fingers, allowing the blood to return to the tips.
Reaching into his pocket, he stopped in front of Sheldon’s place at the far end of the dais and pulled a handful of small oval rocks from his pocket. He laid one stone in front of each council member’s name placard, then returned to the podium, where he flipped open the book.
“I know just about everyone here has read The History of Salvation, even those of you who won’t ever admit to it. There’s just too much good stuff in here for a gossipy little town like ours not to have pored over. Let’s see, your family is in here, Sheldon, for the time your great grandfather threw a man out of a bar window for insulting his horse. And your family practically has its own page in the index, Tyrell. Hell, practically everyone who’s ever set foot in Salvation is in this book with a lurid tale attached to their name.” He slammed the book shut hard enough that Miranda jumped in her seat. “So before you vote based on nothing more than one man’s personal vendetta, you need to think about the fact that the Sweets are a part of Salvation. As an employer and a taxpayer, the Sweet Salvation Brewery is an important part of our community. Sure, they’re a little bit wild.” The crowd chuckled. “But you’re all armed with rocks, and I say, let those who are without sin cast the first stone.”
He paused, giving the council members time to eyeball the shiny ovals at their disposal. Miranda couldn’t help but tense. She didn’t really think they’d stone her, but it piqued her sense of self-preservation, honed as it was to a sharp edge by growing up in a town that had given her the side-eye since she’d been born.
When no one made a move to swing the rocks, Logan continued. “If we can all stop our knee-jerk reaction of hating the Sweets, maybe we’d all finally see everything they bring to Salvation.” He turned and, for the first time since he marched up the aisle, looked straight into Miranda’s eyes. “The fun. The hope. The never knowing what she’s going to do next. The everything. If we did, then maybe she’d stay. I know I hope she will, because I love her.”
Every thought in her head scattered to the edge of the universe, except for one. He loved her and wanted her to stay. In Salvation. With him. The whole idea was so farcical that she should be rolling her eyes. Instead, she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. But it felt right. Somehow, in all the madness, Salvation had become home again.
Before she had a chance to make sense of it all, Logan strode over and hauled her up from her seat. His lips were on hers in the next heartbeat, rocking her world in all the right ways. The kiss was bo
th a declaration of intent and a plea for agreement, and she neither had the will nor the want to say no to either. When he released her a second later, she had to grab hold of his arm in case her knees gave out.
“Go get ‘em,” he whispered in her ear before giving her a push toward the front of the room and stealing her seat.
Miranda wobbled a bit, but she made her way to the podium. Once there, she realized she had no idea what to say, and winging it was not her game. “Wow.” She raised her fingers to her kiss-swollen lips. “Watch out, it looks like the Sweet family crazy is catching.”
Laughter filled the room, and even Sheldon cracked a smile at the joke, but the noise died down before her jumbled thoughts fell back into order.
“I had a whole speech planned out, but…” The words dried up in her mouth. She sucked in a deep breath and steadied her nerves. “For most of my life, I’ve hated being a Sweet in Salvation. I’ve done almost everything in my power to distance myself from this town and nearly everyone in it. But over the past few weeks, I’ve realized that you can’t ever really run away from home.” She covered her heart. “Because it’s always here. Just like your family, it doesn’t always make sense, but there’s nothing in the world like it.”
Firming her resolve, she turned her attention back to the council. “The Sweet Salvation Brewery is an important part of the community. If you vote to keep the Brewery open, I promise you, we’ll do more to support the town and its citizens. But know this. No matter how you vote, I’m staying. You can’t get rid of the Sweets that easily.” Her gaze locked on Logan and in an instant everything fell into place. “You can bet on that.”
Floating on hope and high expectations, Miranda returned to her seat and squeezed in between Logan and Natalie.
“Thank you, Miss Sweet.” Sheldon shuffled the papers in front of him. “I think we’re ready for a vote. Can I get a motion?”