A Lot Like Home

by Kat Cantrell

  The buzzing sound in Havana’s head that had begun with the name Caleb grew to a fever pitch by the time her aunt finished talking. Ideas that Caleb had? That traitor. He’d gone with her to the springs and stood there the whole time without saying a word about any subversive tactics he might have in play. He’d already talked to Serenity and maybe even some of the others. No wonder they weren’t biting—he’d beaten her to the punch.

  “I um, seem to have been left off that communication,” she managed to say. “Which ideas are these?”

  “You tell them,” Serenity said to Caleb and nodded at the crowd. “Tell everyone.”

  Without missing a beat, he began to talk, weaving a spell with his hands as he outlined how he appreciated the mystical element of the area and thought that other folks might too. How he’d like to see more emphasis on the uniqueness that each resident had to bring to the table.

  In other words, embrace the weird instead of plowing over it.

  Lennie and Mavis J listened with rapt attention, their expressions mutually growing more and more enthusiastic. Of course, because Caleb made it sound romantic and special instead of off-kilter in an almost uncomfortable way. Maybe because Havana Nixon was the weird one in this town.

  She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to watch this disaster unraveling at her feet. Finally, he shut up long enough for her to get a word in edgewise.

  “This is all great,” she said, heavy on the sarcasm so everyone caught that it was not great at all. “But the stuff you’re talking about requires infrastructure that isn’t here. A police department, fire department. Tax collection and city government to support it all. A shopping center requires none of that. Maybe you should think about these things before you come along and spread your hero complex around these parts.”

  He actually laughed out loud at that. “Wow, that’s the first time anyone’s called me a hero. I haven’t leaped over any tall buildings yet, but I could sure try.”

  “It’s a disorder, not a compliment,” she said tightly, but it might have been more to convince herself. She could totally picture him with a giant S on his chest. “Because you have a misguided sense of your own importance, you think you can save everyone and be the catalyst for transformation. It’s textbook stuff, really.”

  She should shut up now. Why was she baiting him? She wasn’t helping her case.

  But looking intrigued instead of insulted, he nodded. “That does sound like me. I came here for one purpose. To save this town. If that invites hero-like comparisons, I’m okay with that.”

  Okay? Okay? He wasn’t even fazed by her comments, an unusual enough of an occurrence to throw her off-kilter. “We don’t even have a mayor. Who’s going to take that job? You?”

  The second it was out of her mouth, Serenity clapped her hands. “Yes, that’s exactly what we should do. Caleb would be a great mayor.”

  “Caleb isn’t even from here,” Havana ground out, slapping down the first and only objection she could think of before this situation went completely off the rails. “Shouldn’t the mayor be a citizen with enough history to have the town’s best interests at heart?”

  Caleb glanced over at her, his expression sly enough to narrow her eyes. “I absolutely agree. In that case, you should run for mayor.”

  “Me?” she squawked and then choked on it as he nodded. Her lightning-quick temper flashed, ruffling the hair on the back of her neck. He was up to something. Likely he’d suggested she run because she’d told him—in confidence—that the town hadn’t welcomed her. Was this a ploy to embarrass her or what? “Why, because you know you’d lose?”

  He spread his hands. “I didn’t throw my name into the hat. But no, that’s not why. I heard you say we don’t have a plan for organizing the town. You have a degree in urban planning that must have given you insight into why creating the missing infrastructure won’t work. Plus I happen to know you want to give everyone a choice. So give them one. Run against me and show everyone why you’re the best qualified person to make decisions around here.”

  Oh, he’d like that wouldn’t he? It was a testament to how befuddled that man made her state of mind that she couldn’t immediately see the downside of his suggestion. It almost sounded like he was giving her a chance to win by allowing her an opportunity to pitch her talents to the town.

  But it wasn’t what it looked like. It couldn’t be. He had to have an angle that did not benefit her. Men didn’t give her opportunities to shine. They dashed her dreams and then vanished.

  If she ran for mayor and won, she’d all but conceded anyway because she couldn’t be mayor of a shopping center. The town wouldn’t exist anymore once Damian got the green light. The alternative would be to let Caleb have the office, unless someone else stepped up—an unlikely possibility given the positive sounding buzz from the crowd—and then she’d definitely be conceding because he’d use his new title to lend legitimacy to the concept of Superstition Springs becoming a real city. He’d paint more word pictures of how the town could transform itself into a new age mecca, and more to the point, he’d use his charisma to get the folks excited enough about it to make it work.

  She saw through him more clearly than if he’d been made of glass. How dare he try to make this seem like a fair fight. That alone meant she couldn’t give up now.

  Grinding her teeth, she gave in to the inevitable. “Fine. We’ll both run. But you better be prepared to earn it if you’re serious about this.”

  “I’ve never been handed anything in my life,” he said with a wink. “This is no different.”

  “Let the chips fall where they may then.”

  It was done. There was going to be a mayoral race in Superstition Springs. Newcomer against old-timer. Man against woman. Build a town or build a shopping center. Odds were good she’d go down in flames, exactly as he no doubt hoped would happen. It hadn’t been an accident that he’d phrased everything so it sounded good but, in reality, had been a clever ploy to take all the cards while she wasn’t looking.

  That’s where she’d messed up. He’d used psychological, chemical, and guerrilla warfare. She’d never stood a chance.

  Ten

  Tristan scarcely waited until the team had gotten back to the hotel to blast Caleb with his opinion of what had gone down at Ruby’s. “You can’t seriously be thinking of following through with running for mayor. Are you insane?”

  “Probably.” Caleb scrubbed at the back of his neck. “But what was I supposed to do, let them hand me the job? It seemed like that’s where it was headed.”

  If running for mayor was insane, being the mayor veered into uncharted madness. He couldn’t be the mayor. That was a job for someone with a much clearer sense of how to organize and run things. Like Havana.

  Tristan didn’t like that response much. “But who runs for mayor of a town that doesn’t exist?”

  “You’ll be great,” Isaiah said firmly and flopped down on the threadbare couch in the lobby of the hotel, though “lobby” was a pretty grand term for the smallish area inside the front door. “There’s no reason to panic.”

  “Who’s panicking?” Caleb said with a shrug in hopes that no one would see through the lie. Having an epiphany at the springs about charging ahead hadn’t magically erased his doubt. Just given him the courage to believe he’d eventually get there. “I’ll make a few speeches, and I’ll lose the election with grace. Havana is right. Someone who grew up here should get that job if anyone does.”

  “But if she wins, she’ll tear the place apart!” Tristan insisted. “That’s the opposite of what we came here to do.”

  “She can’t do that.” His whole entire strategy hinged on the fact. Havana had to win the election in order for all this to shake out like it should though. “You heard her. Everyone has to sell, and all I have to do is give a good enough campaign speech to keep at least one person from saying yes. If she wins, and I plan to make sure of it, that’ll be a good incentive for her to take a step back. See what’s really
best for the town. Then she’ll come around.”

  Honestly, he couldn’t have imagined a better way to stack the deck. And the plan had fallen into his lap, thanks to Serenity.

  “I think it’s pretty brilliant,” Rowe offered quietly, his head turned slightly to the right as he listened with his good ear.

  That guy… Caleb swallowed the enormous amount of gratitude that had gotten lodged in his throat. His brother still had his back even after al-Sadidiq.

  Rowe deserved better than a brother who had led him into the worst experience of his life. Soon this whole shopping center fiasco would be a thing of the past, they could get started building a home, and Rowe would have a place to really heal. Put down roots of his own. Caleb would make sure of that too. He owed his brother that and then some.

  Hudson jerked his chin. “I’m in. Tell me what I need to do.”

  With Hudson dog piling on top of Isaiah and Rowe’s support, that was enough to deflate Marchande and his ire. He dropped onto the couch next to Rowe with a sigh. “Fine. We’re all in. Let’s do this thing. What are we doing?”

  “We’re making sure I don’t win this election. Should be a piece of cake.” Caleb snapped his fingers with recently regained confidence, thanks to the support of his guys. That’s what the springs had given him—a solid reminder that he wasn’t in this alone.

  He was losing this election for sure.

  No one in their right mind would vote for an outsider who couldn’t lead his own strike team, let alone a town. Plus mayors were all old guys who owned car dealerships, not former SEALs with blood on their hands.

  That’s where Havana had gotten it wrong. He didn’t have a complex that made him overly eager to fix everything in order to get a dose of hero worship or some such nonsense. Quite the opposite. The marks on his soul demanded retribution. He sought redemption for his own sins, not a platform to stand on as he basked in accolades.

  Regardless, he still ended up standing on a platform later that week, surrounded by fifty of Superstition Springs’ finest folks as he kicked off his campaign for mayor. The platform was more of a makeshift wooden dais in the corner of Ruby’s, but he didn’t treat it like anything less than it was—his first opportunity to show everyone that Havana was the better candidate.

  She’d blown in with her slick fiancé about ten minutes after Caleb and his team had arrived. He pretended he wasn’t watching her or that his pulse hadn’t kicked up a fuss the moment his senses registered her in the room. Which was instantaneous. It was like he could feel her on his skin even when she was half a room away.

  Speaking of slick fiancés… Havana’s crossed over and plunked down in front of Caleb to stick his hand out. “I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Damian Scott.”

  Caleb braced for a limp handshake and to hate the guy deep in his gut. But Scott’s grip was firm and purposeful, plus he had a genuineness about him that said he was a straight shooter. “Hardy. Caleb Hardy.”

  “Nice to meet you. Thank you for your service overseas. Glad you made it back in one piece,” Scott said with absolute sincerity. “I know a couple of guys out of Fort Hood who weren’t so fortunate. Landmines. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Dang it, he didn’t want to like Damian Scott, but he couldn’t deny the guy seemed legit. And why shouldn’t he like him? Because he was engaged to a woman Caleb couldn’t stop thinking about? If anything, he should be dancing a jig that they were a couple. Saved him from having to come up with a different excuse to stay away from his opponent.

  Red hair flashed in his peripheral vision as Havana joined her fiancé, aiming a somewhat pained smile in Caleb’s direction. She made a move as if to get a little closer to Scott, but he didn’t automatically reach out to engulf her in his embrace or try to hold her hand. It made for an awkward moment as she realized she’d overstepped her boundaries and then hastily retreated. A half second later, her fiancé figured out what she’d been going for and stuck his arm out too late.

  Wow. They were really uncomfortable with public displays of affection. He kind of hurt for them for a second. If Havana had been his fiancé, they’d have done that dance so many times it would be second nature. Caleb had zero issue with affection, public or otherwise. In fact, it was a requirement in his mind.

  The awkward silence stretched as Havana avoided his gaze, so Caleb did the only gentlemanly thing he could think of—poked the bull. “I hope you practiced your speech. I’m feeling particularly chatty today, so you’ll need your A game.”

  Fire flashed through her blue eyes, heating them up nicely as she forgot about her embarrassment, exactly as he’d intended.

  “I’ve always got my A game. I hope you’re in the mood to lose.”

  He hid a smile and crossed his arms, leaning against the corner booth where he’d eaten dinner every evening this week as he prepped for his losing campaign speech that he’d planned to give tonight. “I’m in some kind of mood all right.”

  She tossed her head, not bothering to hide her own smug smile. “I’ll try not to mop the floor with you too much.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  Dang if he didn’t really like her spirit. Tame, quiet women did not float his boat. At all.

  Serenity, who had appointed herself “in charge” of the mayoral race, clapped her hands as she mounted the plywood platform where the candidates would give their speeches. She’d taken on her role as volunteer election coordinator seriously, rallying all the townsfolk with personal visits to their homesteads in order to ensure they had a good turnout for the speeches.

  Caleb had grudgingly tagged along to a few of the rounds to meet people, at Serenity’s insistence. To give him an edge, she said. He didn’t want an edge, but neither did he want to hurt her feelings since she’d been the one to come up with this election in the first place.

  Besides, this was step one to getting his pen pal what she wanted. As soon as Havana won this election, things would start to fall into place.

  “Thanks for coming everyone!” Serenity called out, and the crowd quieted down.

  From his vantage point near the dais, he could see the mix of folks who’d chosen this as their Friday night entertainment, which was most of them. He recognized the stocky man in his sixties who’d taken the center spot right in front of the stage—Keith Moon, also known as the owner of Darling the Dorito thief, a story that had become something of a tall tale in its short existence, as Caleb had learned when Serenity took him out to the Moon farm yesterday.

  He’d also learned that Farmer Moon had a huge crush on Serenity, which she refused to even discuss. The widower had tried to engage her several times during their visit, but she was having none of it, blushing behind the fall of gray hair that did little to hide her discomfort.

  It was cute, actually.

  Toward the back, Lennie Ford, the giant, tattooed antique dealer, held hands with the tiny Mavis J, artfully doing what Havana and her fiancé could not, namely conveying that they were a couple. They were obviously very used to being around each other in public as well as in private. Granted the older couple had their own bits of awkwardness given the huge discrepancy in their sizes, but they made it work.

  That was cute too.

  Havana’s fiancé had melted away toward the rear of the room, opting to watch from afar apparently instead of giving Havana the support of his physical presence. Caleb’s team crowded up right next to him, shoulder to shoulder, the way they’d been since their first deployment together nearly a decade ago. They’d have his back, his front, and anything else they needed to watch. It was so ingrained in them all that he didn’t even have to question it.

  Who had Havana’s back? She stood opposite him at the other corner of the dais, listening to Serenity fire up the crowd, wearing a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her sister circulated through the diner, fetching drinks and people’s orders effortlessly, as she did every night. Aria Nixon was good people, but she c
ouldn’t be Havana’s cheerleader while she was working.

  That was not cute at all.

  Caleb crossed the small expanse purposefully enough that Keith Moon moved out of his way without question. Havana’s gaze narrowed as Caleb bumped her arm companionably.

  “Nervous?” he murmured under his breath.

  “No.” She eyed him with undisguised curiosity. “You?”

  “Nah. I ran for Miss Congeniality of my platoon. Compared to that tough crowd, this is a walk in the park.”

  Havana actually laughed, which made him grin in return. She had a nice laugh when she forgot they weren’t operating under the truce anymore. Which was a shame in retrospect. Maybe when she won the election, they could try the idea of a truce again.

  “Did you get the title?” she asked under her breath as Serenity began lauding the candidates’ qualifications for mayor, most of which was weighted in his favor unnecessarily.

  “Of course,” he shot back indignantly with a small head tilt toward his team. “You see my competition.”

  Serenity wound up her comments with a nod at Havana, who had won the coin toss and thus had chosen to go first, naturally. That worked in Caleb’s favor because once she finished, he could agree with anything negative she said about him, as well as figure out a good way to make her seem like the better candidate.

  Havana stepped up on the stage, but it was tilted a bit on one side, which caught her off guard. She tripped, then flailed and started to fall. For the second time in a week, she ended up in Caleb’s arms before he could blink.

  In a testament to his superior iron will, he somehow managed to not immediately bury his nose in her hair. And he got her standing on her own two feet without coming apart, a minor miracle given how his entire body had shot into high alert the instant it had registered contact with Havana’s warmth. But he’d wound up standing on the platform with her as a result. Awkwardly. And there was no way the crowd could miss exactly how “alert” his body had gotten.

  Flustered, she cleared her throat, smoothing back flyaway strands of hair. His fingers itched to do it for her, and that sealed it—he was going to hell. He could not keep thinking of another man’s fiancée this way. His mind refused to forget the feel of her in his arms, and none of that was helping calm down the physical reaction still unfolding.