Cowboy Tough

by Stacy Finz

  She couldn’t tell if he disapproved of his ranch being invaded. His fiancée certainly approved. She was the one who’d gotten the ball rolling, which Charlotte was grateful for.

  “They seem perfectly safe and I hate holding you up.”

  He didn’t say anything, just continued to stand there like a sentry.

  “I love this.” The leggings lady held up a wine-bottle drying rack Jace had scavenged for her on one of his landfill runs. Charlotte hung a collection of enamelware coffee mugs from it that she’d found in a thrift store off Highway 49. “Do you have one that’s smaller?”

  “Sorry, no. I mostly deal in one-of-a-kinds.” She went back into the barn. “What do you like it for?”

  “Same thing you’ve done. Coffee mugs. But this would take up too much counter space.”

  “I could cut it in half and you could hang it flush against the wall.” Charlotte demonstrated on the wood siding.

  “Oh my goodness, I never would have thought of that. Sissy, wouldn’t that look cute next to my pantry?”

  “Darling. Maybe I should get one too.”

  She let the two women clamor over the drying rack and returned to Cash so as not to seem like she was hovering.

  “I don’t see a tag,” Sissy said.

  Charlotte hadn’t thought about a price. Frankly, she still hadn’t decided what to do with the bottle rack. “Uh, Two hundred as-is. Or a hundred and fifty for each half.”

  Cash made a low sound in his throat.

  “It’s a little more only because I’ll have to hire someone to make the cuts,” Charlotte explained. “It’s pretty heavy steel. But if you have the right tools or can get someone to do it yourself, you’ll save money.”

  “I’d rather you do it,” Sissy said. “Wouldn’t you, Mandy?”

  “Yes.” Mandy looked around, presumably for somewhere to stow the rack, and settled for Charlotte’s sewing counter. “But can you put something on the back of it to make it easy to hang?”

  “Absolutely,” Charlotte said.

  “Three hundred bucks?” Cash whispered. “Wineries throw them out when they get old.”

  “When was the last time you were in a gift shop or a kitchen store in St. Helena or Napa?” Charlotte had seen the racks priced at up to five hundred dollars depending on size and condition.

  Cash let out a whistle. “I’m in the wrong business.”

  She chuckled. “I just have to find someone to cut it in half and add hangers, which I’m not exactly sure how to do.” She’d been improvising when she’d made the suggestion to hang the rack on the wall.

  “Jace has a cutting torch. You can probably screw some kind of holders onto the back with a standard drill. Jace will know how to do it. If not, there’s a machine shop in Auburn.”

  “Perfect. Thanks.”

  “I love the couch,” Sissy called to Charlotte. “Dee Dee told me I would and the pictures my decorator sent didn’t do it justice.”

  Charlotte left Cash’s side. Boy, would she love to sell the sofa. And the chair. It was taking up a lot of space in the workshop.

  “I’m still working on the slipcover for the chair. It’s a gorgeous set. Really good quality.”

  “I don’t think both would fit in my family room.”

  Mandy strolled over from the pillows she’d been looking at. “It would if you got rid of Robert’s recliner.”

  “We both know that’s not going to happen. But maybe if I got rid of that big ottoman that we’re using for a coffee table and got something smaller instead.”

  “That would work.” Mandy walked around the back, taking in the details.

  “How much do you want for both?” Sissy asked.

  Charlotte did a quick tally in her head of how much the fabric and her supplies had cost. Without checking her receipts, it was a guesstimate but close enough to name a price that would ensure a nice profit. “Thirty-five hundred.”

  In one of the design showrooms in San Francisco, custom pieces like Charlotte’s would’ve fetched twice as much. But because her sofa was refurbished and not brand-new, the price was fair.

  Sissy looked at Mandy and said, “How soon until the chair is finished, and do you deliver?”

  “I could have both wine racks and the chair by late next week.” It was a stretch because she had Jace’s fundraiser on Saturday and would have to divide her week between her workshop and organizing the event. But in her experience, customers weren’t particularly patient and she wanted to seal the deal. “Where do you live?”

  “River Park in Sacramento.”

  Charlotte had no idea where River Park was, but Sacramento was at least an hour away. She’d need to rent a U-Haul. “I’d have to charge you.”

  “Leo could do it for you in our toy hauler.” Mandy lifted one end of the sofa. “Between Leo and Robert this should be no problem to move.”

  “All right, you’ve got yourself a deal.” Sissy slid a credit card out of her wallet and Charlotte’s heart sank.

  “Um, I’m not set up yet to take credit cards.” PayPal, Square, and any other mobile payment system had been on Meredith’s “do-not-do” list because Corbin could use financial transactions to track her. “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience but right now I only take cash and checks.”

  Sissy chewed her bottom lip. “Really?”

  Charlotte could tell she was wavering on the purchase. She didn’t want to lose the sale, but what could she do?

  “I’ll have to think about it, then,” Sissy said but seemed reluctant to let it go.

  “I totally understand.” Few people had thirty-five hundred dollars lying around.

  “I’ll take the drying rack, of course.”

  It was still a three-hundred-dollar sale, more than Charlotte had thirty minutes ago. And for something that cost her virtually nothing.

  “Who should we make the check out to?” Mandy asked.

  “Uh, Jace Dalton, please.”

  While the women focused on writing their checks, Charlotte moved the bottle rack next to the side door so she’d remember to take it up to the house, where Jace kept his tools.

  “Do you have a few cards we could take with us?” Mandy handed Charlotte her check.

  “Uh, that’s another thing I don’t have. Honestly, I’ve been focusing on building inventory and haven’t officially opened yet.” She used the word “opened” loosely because she’d never planned to go back into retail. But the idea that she was once again repurposing furniture and selling it to people who gave her pieces loving homes filled her with joy. “The only reason Dee Dee knew about me is through her interior designer, who’s a friend of mine.”

  “Oh my gosh, we didn’t mean to just show up,” Sissy said. “Dee Dee made it sound like you were open for business.”

  “I’m thrilled you did, really. I just wish I was better prepared is all. But next time I will be, I promise. Would you like to come a week from this Friday to pick up your racks?”

  “That would be great if it’s not an inconvenience,” Mandy said.

  “Not at all.” Charlotte shoved their checks in her pocket.

  She was nervous that Cash was getting antsy. She could escort the ladies to the gate herself but would have to ride with them and walk back because she’d left her car up at the house.

  Cash must’ve read her mind because he said, “I’ll lock the gate after them.”

  “Thank you.”

  The women walked to their Outback with their heads together, whispering. Right before they got in the car, Sissy turned around and called to Charlotte, “What if I paid half now for the couch and chair and the other half when I pick it up?”

  “That works,” Charlotte said, a little surprised by the sudden turnaround.

  Sissy returned with her checkbook. While she wrote, Charlotte mouthed to Cash, “Sorry.�
�

  He stunned her with a thumbs-up, which made her smile. It was a hell of a sale. Between Sissy and Dee Dee, she had a nice pile of cash. And she knew exactly what to do with it.

  Chapter 19

  Tiffany showed up at seven a.m. on the day of Jace’s fundraising barbecue with a set of two-way radios—one for her and one for Charlotte—and proceeded to bark orders like a drill sergeant to anyone who’d volunteered.

  Charlotte noticed that the only one immune from being bossed around was Aubrey. No one dared to tell her what to do. Aubrey had a way of raising one imperial eyebrow that instantly put Tiffany in her place. Besides, she had turned their banal white wedding tent into a red, white, and blue extravaganza complete with balloons, pinwheels, and giant “Jace Dalton for Sheriff” posters. To remind everyone that Jace had deep roots in the community, she’d scattered a few pictures of his late grandfather around the tent.

  Jasper Dalton was a legend in Mill County; even Charlotte the newcomer knew that.

  “Here.” Tiffany pushed a ring into Charlotte’s hand. “You don’t have to say you’re engaged but at least wear it.”

  Charlotte looked down at the emerald-cut diamond that set off a prism of color in the sunlight. “I hope this is fake.”

  Tiffany didn’t say anything.

  “Oh, for God’s sake. What if I lose it?”

  “You won’t.”

  “This is absolutely crazy,” Charlotte said because she was actually considering going through with this insane scheme if it would help Jace’s campaign.

  “People adore a good love story. And while everyone’s talking about the gorgeous new woman in Jace’s life, they’ll forget about last year’s love triangle.”

  “It wasn’t a triangle, Tiffany.” Charlotte nudged her head across the tent where Aubrey and Cash were exchanging what they thought was a private kiss. “If this town can’t figure that out, they deserve Jacob Jolly. Besides, a candidate shouldn’t lie to his constituents.”

  “Jace isn’t lying. Come on, just put the damn thing on.” Tiffany took the ring and shoved it onto Charlotte’s wedding finger. “If anyone asks you about it be coy, say today’s about Jace’s bid for reelection.”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Charlotte watched as Jace lined up a row of grills across the tent. “Does he know we’re doing this?”

  “Of course not. Look, it’s just a ring. You’re entitled to wear anything you want. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  “It just happens to be a diamond worn on my left hand.” Charlotte snorted as she walked away, feeling the weight of the gold band around her finger.

  Five minutes later, she bumped into Sawyer on the way to the house to grab a few things Aubrey needed.

  He tipped his hat and kept walking.

  “Hang on a second,” she said, and he stopped. If she was going to pretend to be Jace’s fiancée she needed to consult with someone other than Tiffany. Sawyer was not only a journalist but according to Jace, his parents were blue-chip publicists who specialized in rescuing politicians, celebrities, and athletes from ruin. He’d know whether Tiffany’s political trick was a terrible idea.

  She waved the diamond back and forth across his face. “Tiffany thinks I should wear this ring during the barbecue to give people the idea that Jace and I are engaged. She says I don’t have to lie and that it’s just a ring but that it’ll give people something to talk about other than the”—she paused for a second because she didn’t even know what to call it—“you know, the rumor. What do you think?”

  He stood there for a few moments without saying anything. Initially, Charlotte thought he was angry. But on further reflection, she could tell he was weighing the pros and cons in his head.

  “Don’t lie. And whatever you do, don’t tell Jace. He can’t be part of this.”

  “So I should wear it?” She wasn’t sure what he was telling her to do.

  “If anyone asks you about it, blow them off. Tell them it was your mother’s or some bullshit like that. They won’t believe you. Everyone will think the two of you are engaged. But if things go sideways, you’ll have cover. Seriously, Charlotte, this can’t look like a publicity stunt.”

  “You don’t think Tiffany’s crazy, then?”

  He let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, she’s crazy all right. But let’s just say this is one of her better ideas. Don’t tell Jace, though. He has to have plausible deniability.”

  “Gotcha.” She couldn’t believe she was willing to be complicit in this farce. But to be Jace Dalton’s fiancée, even for a day, didn’t exactly suck.

  Tiffany’s voice came across the two-way radio. “Aubrey is still waiting for those tablecloths. Chop chop.”

  “I’m on it.” Charlotte tilted her head up to the sky and prayed for patience. “I suddenly feel like a wedding planner.”

  Sawyer’s lips curved in amusement and he headed off to help Cash with the chairs.

  “Hey.” Jace caught her around the waist and she instantly hid her left hand in the folds of her coat. “What were you and Sawyer talking about?”

  “How bossy Tiffany is.” The lie slid off her tongue and she felt a moment of guilt but reminded herself that the end justified the means.

  “That it?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking on his feet.

  “We talked about you and how the barbecue was going to be a great success.”

  He quirked a brow. “Doesn’t sound like Sawyer.”

  “Well, that’s what we talked about.” She reached up and tugged down the brim of his hat. “Looking good, Sheriff.”

  He might’ve blushed—Charlotte couldn’t say for sure—but he definitely grinned and Charlotte felt that grin all the way down to her toes.

  “If I don’t get the tablecloths from the house, Tiffany will fire me.”

  Jace hooked his thumbs in his silver belt buckle and gave her a long, thorough once-over. “Maybe I’ll come with you.”

  “Oh no, you don’t. People will be here soon.” She waved at the tent. “Time to mingle, big guy.”

  “What if I don’t want to mingle?”

  She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled his face down so they were eye to eye. “You’re supposed to be social at these campaign functions, Jace. That’s the whole point. We’re in it to win it.”

  “Where the hell did you come up with that—cheerleading practice?” His mouth quirked.

  “Now you’re just being ornery. Go kiss some babies, Jace.” She jogged up the stairs to the porch, turned her head to find him watching her with that same silly grin on his lips, and she got those flutters again.

  * * * *

  Jace didn’t want to kiss babies, he wanted to kiss Charlie. As often as she’d let him.

  He walked toward the tent with a little more punch in his giddyup, even though he looked forward to this barbecue about as much as he did to getting typhoid fever. Charlie did that to him. She made him happy and steady and able to believe in love again. And he wanted to make her proud.

  We’re in it to win it.

  He chuckled to himself and strode into the tent ready to take on Mill County.

  Folks started pouring in around noon. Tiffany had wanted people to pay a hundred dollars a plate. But Jace had quickly nixed that idea.

  “This ain’t the French Laundry, Tiff. Dalton burgers are good but not a hundred-bucks good.”

  “They’re not paying for the food,” she’d argued. “They’re paying to support the candidate.”

  “They can support me at the ballot box.”

  They’d settled on forty dollars a head, kids ate free. From the look of the crowd, forty bucks had been the sweet spot. Jace didn’t take it for granted that everyone who’d come was here to support his bid for reelection. The good people of the county were always up for a party and Dry Creek Ranch was pret
ty damned hospitable.

  Laney and Jimmy Ray waved as they got a couple of beers from the bar. Sam Gilletti, owner of Ale Yeah!, had volunteered to bring the kegs and run the taps. The Klines had come with Tina, which made Travis happy.

  “Nice shindig.” Randy Beals slapped Jace on the back.

  “How you doing, Randy? How’s things at the ranch?” Jace felt a wave of guilt for not having checked in with his neighbor. There never seemed to be enough hours in the day.

  “Same old, same old.” Randy frowned.

  “You talk to someone about debt consolidation?”

  Randy huffed out a breath. “What’s the point, unless they can whittle my debt down to zero. Anything more than that, I ain’t got.”

  Jace took a second or two to let that sink in. “What are you planning to do?”

  “Sell before the bank takes it away, I reckon. I was gonna come over and talk to you boys about it, give you first crack at buying.”

  Jace’s chest tightened. “Ah, Randy, I’m sorry. I wish more than anything there was a way you could turn this around.”

  “What about you boys? Can we work something out?”

  Jace motioned for Randy to follow him away from the crowd and said, “We can’t even cobble together the back taxes. No way do we have that kind of cash.” Or credit. No bank would lend them the kind of money Beals Ranch was worth.

  “I didn’t think so.” Randy lowered his head. “But your granddaddy meant the world to me and handing my land over to a Dalton would’ve taken some of the sting out of it.”

  Jace nodded. “I’m sorry, Randy. I wish there was something we could all do.”

  “Aw, hell, maybe it’ll be nice not to have to work so hard. Marge wants to get a Winnebago, travel a little.” Randy swung his arm over Jace’s shoulder. “In the meantime, you’ve got my vote, son. Now I’m gonna get me one of those inferior burgers you’re peddling and a beer.”

  The conversation had left Jace low, but he decided to wait until after the barbecue to tell Cash and Sawyer. No sense ruining the afternoon when everyone had worked so hard on his behalf.

  “Who was that?” Charlie sidled up next to him.