Teddy laughed. “Variety is the spice of life, my friend. I’ll tell you what though. I’ll consider your suggestion when you admit you still have a crush on City Boy over there.” He nodded toward the window that looked out on the town hall.
Dani forced a laugh. “Enjoy your variety,” she said. “The only things I have a crush on are this job and this town and doing right by both.”
Teddy gave her a puzzled look.
“You know what I mean.” She groaned. “It sounded better in my head. I’m married to the job. I don’t complicate it with relationships or crushes or any of my old high school fantasies. I’m an adult and I act like one.” She squared her shoulders and raised her chin.
Her partner gave her a pat on the back.
“I will enjoy my variety,” he said. “And you, Deputy Daniela Garcia who’s married to all this”—he spread his arms to indicate their dilapidated office—“enjoy that adulting.”
He winked at her, tossed his hat onto his head, and strolled out the door.
She knocked on Sheriff Thompson’s door, the only private office in their small building.
“Come in,” he called from inside.
Dani opened the door slowly and poked her head in to find the sheriff with his head down, finishing some paperwork on his desk.
“Sir, just wanted to let you know that Crawford is on call tonight and I’m…I’m heading over to the mayor’s office to help him get started on the whole lighting thing that he’d prefer to avoid.”
The sheriff waved, eyes still glued to whatever he was working on.
“Thanks for the update—and for helping Mayor Cooper get back into the spirit of things around here. He means well but still needs a nudge in the right direction.”
Dani grimaced. “I’m not so sure about the spirit part of it, but we’ll get the lights and whatever else up—unless you’d rather I put my whole focus into our building. I mean, it is the sheriff’s office, and I am deputy sheriff. And since I’m not on call, this is technically off hours for me.”
Sheriff Thompson finally looked up. His dark hair was in need of a cut, and she swore she could see a little more gray in it than yesterday. Dark circles rimmed the underside of his eyes.
“You okay, Sheriff? You look—exhausted,” she added.
He laughed, which set her more at ease. “You don’t pull any punches, do you, Dani?”
She smiled back at him. “Never have.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Just working out the details for something personal. Nothing to worry about. But do I need to worry about you playing nice with Mayor Cooper? I know you’re not thrilled about splitting time between our place and his, but I do want to remind you that you’re the one who came to me concerned that Mayor Cooper wasn’t going to participate in the lights parade.”
She’d knocked on his door ready to argue, but she could see now that whatever Sheriff Thompson was dealing with, he didn’t need added drama. Plus, technically, he was right. She’d gotten this whole ball rolling by opening her mouth in the first place. She might as well put her good intentions into action.
“I’ll play nice,” she relented. “As long as you promise not to do our office all by yourself when I’m not looking. I want to help. I want the Sheriff’s Department to stand out. I want us to—”
“It’s not a contest, Deputy,” the sheriff said, the corner of his mouth turning up.
Dani blew out a breath. “Except, sir, that it kind of is. Which is why I need you to promise you’ll let me do my part. I know you have enough on your plate as it is.”
“Deal,” he said with a small laugh, and she closed his door, leaving him be.
She grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and threw it on, opting to leave her hat on the desk since she technically wasn’t on duty.
“Ready or not, Mayor Cooper,” she said softly to herself, “here I come.”
She ignored the little flip in her belly at the utterance of his name. Crushes were a thing of the past, as were fantasies of being noticed by someone who never even knew she was there. Tonight was strictly business.
* * *
Dani wasn’t sure what she expected to find when she arrived at the mayor’s office, but it wasn’t Peyton Cooper in a Midtown Sluggers—the town’s coed softball team—T-shirt and jeans, his five-o’clock-shadowed jaw set as he tried to untangle a massive nest of holiday lights.
She watched him, probably for several seconds longer than she should have. But he looked so—different than all the other times she’d seen him out and about town. Where Mayor Grady had always topped off his look with a cowboy hat and bolo tie, Peyton Cooper walked the streets of Meadow Valley in three-piece suits and wingtips. Maybe Grady had been ostentatious in his office design, but he’d still looked the part of a small-town mayor. Until today, Peyton had seemed like a fish out of water, even after having lived in Meadow Valley most of his life.
Dani had been too caught off guard earlier in the morning to pay attention to what the mayor looked like in his running gear, and she was sort of regretting that at the moment. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so jarring to see him like this—like just a normal guy. A really good-looking normal guy whose jaw was maybe a bit scruffier and his eyes a hell of a lot more intense than the teenage boy she’d admired from afar. Except right here, right now, while she was all but stalking the man, he was as unguarded as she’d ever seen him since his return. The image evoked a nostalgia she wasn’t expecting, and her stomach flipped again.
Hey…genius…don’t be fooled. He might be the same guy who made your silly heart go pitter-pat, but he’s also the same guy who crushed that silly heart without a second thought.
She cleared her throat, and the mayor looked up. “Keith was gone, so I figured it was safe to just come on in.”
He shook the tangled web from his hands—his triceps flexing as he did—and dusted off his jeans. Dani was sure they were clean as could be, yet as he stepped out from behind his desk, she could see the denim was faded and well-worn. It even looked like there might be a paint stain on his right knee.
“Evening, Deputy Garcia,” he said, extending a hand. “I let Keith take the afternoon off. When I’d initially thought the mayor’s office would, uh, bow out of the festivities this year, he asked if it would be all right if he helped out at Mrs. Davis’s bookstore.” He shook his head and laughed. “I’m a grown man—the mayor even—and I still can’t seem to call her Trudy like everyone else.”
Dani shook his hand. “I think Keith is dating Trevor, one of Mrs. Davis’s—I mean Trudy’s employees. Guess old habits die hard, right?” she said with her own nervous laugh. She was much more aware now of the calluses on his palm, of the sudden warmth that radiated from his skin to hers. Both observations startled her so much that she snatched her hand back, and the mayor raised his brows in question.
“Static electricity,” she lied. “Felt a little shock.”
The corner of his mouth quirked into an almost-grin.
“Yeah,” he said. “Felt it too. Sorry about that. Must have been the lights.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the pile of lights on the table.
“Is that what Grady left you to work with?” she asked.
He turned back to her and nodded. “Look, I meant what I said about stepping back from all this. But I’m not a big enough jerk to leave you this mess and expect you to deal with it on your own. I’ll help you get the lights untangled, but I need to draw the line there. I hope you understand.”
She shook her head. “I don’t. But I’m not going to keep fighting you on it. That won’t get us anywhere.” She nodded toward the wad of lights. “Speaking of getting anywhere, how long have you been working on that?”
He laughed. “Probably a good hour already.” Then he shrugged. “I guess you really drew the short straw, being the one to have to start on this unwanted assignment—and start it with the Grinch.”
Dani groaned. “First of all, it was a coin toss. No st
raws involved. And second—look, can we start this day over? Forget about—well, every rude thing I said or did or thought up until now? This will go a lot quicker if we can put all that behind us.”
He laughed, straight from his belly—which rippled under the thin cotton of his T-shirt. Not that Dani was looking, but keen observation was a part of her job. And his voice—deep and full of joy—elicited a smile from her as well.
“Your saying and doing were few and far between,” he said. “But I imagine you’ve been thinking all sorts of things all day.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Mayor. I do think about things other than you and your hatred of the holidays.”
He raised a brow. “But what you’re saying is that you did think about me today.”
She threw her hands in the air. This man was impossible.
He leaned back on the edge of his desk. “And I don’t hate the holidays,” he said, his voice softer, almost solemn. “These days it’s just easier to focus on getting through this time of year than to make such a big deal about it.”
“Getting through it?” she asked, incredulous. “You talk like you don’t have anything to celebrate. I mean, you’re the mayor of your hometown. At thirty-two. I know it doesn’t compare to Chicago, but it’s something, right?”
His jaw tightened.
“I got fired, Dani. That’s why I left Illinois. I came back to regroup, and then Mayor Grady died. I needed a job. Everything else happened so fast. I want to do something good here before I figure out my next move.”
“Oh,” she said. “And your parents aren’t coming back to spend the holidays with you?”
When Peyton hadn’t moved home after college, they’d followed their only son to where he’d set up his new life, selling their home and property to an investor who—for whatever reason—never did anything with the house or the land. Every small town seemed to have that house on the outskirts that sat empty for years, the windows boarded shut and the grass overgrown. For Meadow Valley, it was the Cooper residence. If Peyton hadn’t come back, she guessed that soon enough, kids would start making up stories of the place being haunted—if they hadn’t already.
He shook his head, and for a second it looked like someone had socked him in the gut, but she blinked and the expression was gone.
“They can’t come back this year,” was all he said.
“Oh,” she said again. “So you lost your last job and are alone for the holidays. I can see how that would suck. I’m sorry, Coop.”
Coop. What was she doing calling him by the high school nickname she’d never used because she’d never said two words to him while they were there?
His brows furrowed. “I didn’t know we were on a nickname basis. Also, I didn’t realize you knew my nickname.”
Dammit. She did it again, just like she had this morning when she’d mentioned the winter formal. Her cheeks flushed. “Of course I knew. You were president of the school the two years we were there together. Everyone called you Coop. It was on every campaign poster. Kind of hard to miss. I guess…I don’t know…you seemed like the old you. Not that I knew the old you.”
Oh my god. What was she doing? It was like an instant replay of the humiliation she’d felt years ago, except this time he was watching her go through it.
“Anyway,” she said, “we should really get to the whole light-detangling situation so you can rid yourself of this silly holiday business. In fact, you know what?” She strode toward his desk and wrapped the mass of lights into her arms. “I can just take these back to my apartment and work on them there.”
Maybe he was letting his personal feelings about the holidays spill over into his thoughts about how the town celebrated it. And while she didn’t agree with it, she could understand it. Plus, the thought of keeping the guy here untangling Christmas lights when it was the last thing he wanted to do didn’t make the rest of her night sound too fun. At home she could at least take off her bra. God, that sounded amazing after the day she’d had.
“Wait,” he said, blowing out a breath. “I said I’d help with this part, and I’m a man of my word. And I think I can make the night a little more bearable for both of us.” He strode toward a small mini-fridge that sat on the wide window ledge next to his coffeemaker and retrieved two bottles of beer. “How about a refreshment?” he asked, turning to face her again.
She sighed. An adult beverage would really hit the spot right now. If Deputy Crawford couldn’t relax with a cold one tonight, she might as well pick up the slack. The mayor did seem genuinely committed to helping her sort out the lighting mess. And truth be told, she was kind of dreading doing it by herself.
Dani offered him a conciliatory smile and popped the top off her bottle using the edge of the mayor’s desk.
“Refreshments, Mr. Mayor. You just said the magic word.”
Chapter Four
Two hours, three beers, and a whole mess of wire and glass later, Peyton and Dani had somehow accomplished the impossible. The perimeter of the mayor’s office was now lined—twice over—with the untangled lights.
“This is it,” he said, holding the plug at the ready. “The moment of truth.”
Dani winced.
“What?” he asked.
“Well, do you think maybe we should have—?”
“Tested the lights as soon as we uncovered the plug? Oh yeah. One hundred percent.” But he’d gotten sidetracked by their rhythm. By listening to her talk about life in Meadow Valley since he’d been gone and her family and living with Casey above the bar and—all of it. Every word that came out of her mouth—now that the whole grinch thing was behind them—put him at ease. He could have listened to her for two hours more, but he’d stolen enough of her time for one night.
Dani laughed. Her hair—no longer in the tight ponytail she wore under her hat—bounced in dark waves against her shoulders, and Peyton had to fight the urge to forget the lights altogether and tangle his fingers in that hair and…And what? She was here because of a coin toss and because she didn’t want to see him ruin her favorite holiday. He needed to get his head on straight and stop thinking things he shouldn’t be thinking.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Did we, or did we not waste the last two hours of our lives?”
“Wait!” Dani said as she collapsed into the chair behind his desk and started pounding the top with her palms. “We need a drumroll!”
He listened to the beat of her hands against the wood and then finally plugged in the lights.
The perimeter of his office lit up like a bright white picture frame.
Dani sprang up and pumped her fist in the air with a loud “Woo-hoo!” Then she strode to where he stood and high-fived him like it was something they’d been doing for years. “Nice work, Mr. Mayor! I never thought I’d say this, but we make a damn good team, don’t we?”
He nodded then breathed in deep. Now that she was closer, he could smell the scent of cherries and something else…Almonds maybe? Her shampoo.
“You smell great,” he said without thinking. Then he thought. “And that was a completely inappropriate thing to say. I apologize.”
She shook her head and bit her bottom lip before her mouth curved into a small smile.
“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I mean, I like knowing that I smell good. It’s better than smelling bad, right? And after this day, which started before the crack of dawn—for both of us, even—it’s good to know I haven’t turned too ripe. You know what I’m saying?” She rolled her eyes. “Jeez, what the hell am I saying? A cute guy says I smell nice, and I launch into a manifesto on ripeness?” She took a step back, holding her hands up as if stopping him from pursuing her. “And that’s my cue to exit. Good night, Mayor Cooper.”
“You think I’m cute?” he asked, holding back a grin. He wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily. He’d spent the past few hours untangling Christmas lights, which should have put him in what Keith would have deemed his sulkiest of sulky moods.
Yet he’d smiled more tonight than he had in months. He’d laughed as much too. And it was all thanks to Dani. If, on top of all that, she thought he was easy on the eyes, far be it from him to let such an admission go unnoticed.
“What?” she asked. “No. I didn’t say—”
He took a careful step closer to her and nodded. “But you did say, Dani. And if there’s one thing I’ve gotten to know about you since coming back to Meadow Valley, it’s that you’re honest and direct and always say what you mean. You’re not afraid to speak your mind, even if it means telling a grumpy old mayor when he’s being a selfish ass. I admire that. I might even find it attractive.”
She lowered her hands, her shoulders relaxing. “Peyton…” His name came out like a sigh, and god, he liked the sound of it. “Look, I didn’t know about your last job or that you’re alone for the holidays this year. And I never called you selfish.”
“Just a grinch,” he said with a grin.
This time she blew out an exasperated breath. “I apologized for that too.” Then recognition bloomed in her expression. “Wait. Did you just say you found me attractive?”
He shook his head, still smiling, and took another small step closer. “I said I found your blunt honesty attractive.”
She rolled her eyes and groaned, and he laughed.
“I think you’re beautiful, Deputy. All of you,” he added. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I kind of had a crush on you in high school.”
Her eyes widened and her cheeks flamed. “You—you did not. You liked Cady McKay. You were the winter formal king and queen together. You…” She slapped her hand over her mouth.
He raised his brows. “Cady McKay asked me to the winter formal with one of those silly Christmas Grahams she made the student council sell. I’d have been a jerk if I said no.”
Dani stared at him blankly.
“You remember the Christmas Grahams, right? Graham? With an h because she loved that movie with that British actor…What was his name?”
She swallowed, then cleared her throat. “The Holiday. With Jude Law. His character’s name was Graham,” she said flatly.
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