Silver Mayor: The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge

by L. B. Dunbar

  “I need to get back inside,” I say, looking away from him, knowing I have larger issues than my estranged brother.

  30

  Ambush is Not Shrubbery

  [Janessa]

  Instead of celebrating an engagement, Charlie and I go our separate ways. Lucy is waiting for him at his home as Vega is for me, and I need time to process what happened.

  We got the vote for Walk the Ridge.

  Charlie proposed to me.

  He stole our thunder.

  Instead of victory is mine, I feel deflated. Cora worked so hard alongside me, and I’m forever grateful as I don’t have the connections she does. History, that’s what she called it. She’s been here her entire life, and I am still an outsider. She has more pull than me—persuasion, she says—and instead of Charlie letting us have our moment, he had to ruin it with a proposal. A fake one.

  He couldn’t possibly mean we marry for real, and I wonder what he’s up to. What is his motive?

  He claimed he wanted to show the city how much he approved of me, but this isn’t approval. I don’t know what to call this.

  I slip the ring off once inside my dad’s truck and drop it in my purse. Wearing that god-awful jewelry, reminding me of the audacious engagement ring Richard had given me, was not happening. A ring like that does not quietly whisper love, but screams look at me, I’m taken. Owned. Possessed. Property.

  I want Charlie to love me. At least, I thought I did.

  I’d love to call in sick the next morning, but I pull on my big girl panties and plaster on the brave face I’d mastered over the years with Richard.

  Only, I don’t expect to find Charlie waiting for me the second I enter the mayor’s building and then nearly dragging me into his office.

  “How are you?” he asks, eyes searching my face but not settling on my eyes as his hands curl over my shoulders. His fingers clutch at me as though he’s holding on for dear life.

  “I think we should talk,” I sass, and he nods, his lips puckering as if he wholeheartedly agrees.

  “I want this,” he blurts, but there’s a tremble in his tenor. For a second, I look at him, really take him in. His etched cheeks that could make a model jealous. His slightly graying temples. His beautifully brown eyes like the strength of an oak. Only, that’s the thing. His eyes look wild and dull, and a thin sheen of sweat graces his brow.

  “What’s going on?” I softly wonder aloud.

  “Nothing. I just want you to know I want you. You and Vega. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Everything,” I whisper, still questioning his tone. Not to mention, what does everything mean?

  “Aren’t you happy about the proposal?” he asks, still holding my shoulders, keeping me at arm’s length and speaking to me with such aloofness.

  “It’s not exactly how I envisioned a second proposal,” I reply. Sadly, I always hoped if it ever happened again, there would be more meaning behind the invitation to marry someone. Perhaps love would be a part of the equation, not obligation or whatever is the premise of Charlie’s proposition.

  “Oh. Not that. I meant the walk.”

  We’re discussing the walk? We need to talk about us. We need to talk about what he did and why the hell he did it.

  “What’s wrong with you this morning?” I ask, truly concerned by his behavior. “I don’t care about the walk. I want to know why you did it. Why did you ask me to marry you?”

  “As I said last night, I want everyone to see I approve of you.” He releases my shoulders and slips his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

  I snort. “There are other ways to prove that, Charlie. A gold star or a salute would have done it. Hell, even a congratulations and I’m proud of you would have sufficed.” My fingers air-quote the relevancy of the simple words he could have used instead of will you marry me?

  “You’re not wearing the ring,” he says, noticing my bare finger for the first time. His voice softens like he’s actually hurt.

  “I…” I can’t wear that thing. It’s not only too much in the way of a diamond; it’s too much period. Nothing makes sense.

  “Charlie, we have a problem,” Jordan says, barging into Charlie’s office while looking down at the phone in his hand. When his head pops up, he notices me, startled and pausing at my presence. “Good morning, Janessa. Are you ready for this?”

  Without warning, he spins the phone and holds it up for both Charlie and me to view, only Charlie quickly smacks it out of Jordan’s hand and the phone goes flying to the floor.

  “Charlie,” I shriek, and scramble to the floor for the device. What the hell is wrong with him this morning? I’ve never seen him like this, and all my hackles rise, reminiscent of the fear Richard could put in me with a hitch of his tone or the threat of a hand that never made contact.

  My eyes narrow in on the screen, which remained open and upright despite the fall. My mouth drops, and I stare at the image before me. Slowly, I stand, gaping at the photo before me. Eventually glancing from Jordan to his uncle.

  “You didn’t tell her, did you?” Jordan addresses Charlie, his eyes narrowed

  “I was just about to.” The lowness of Charlie’s voice is almost as frightening as the swat of his hand at Jordan’s phone.

  Jordan gazes over at me, but his words address Charlie while his eyes focus on me. “I told you to tell her first.”

  “First?” I question. “Tell me what? And what the hell is this?” I turn the screen to the men, still uncertain I’m seeing what I’m seeing.

  “That’s Charlie, in all his glory,” Jordan mocks, the sarcastic tone curls his lips.

  Turning the phone back to me, I glance down once again at the headline.

  Small town mayor bares it all as he proposes to the new woman in his life.

  One picture shows Charlie on his knees before me. The other shows a full-body image of him against a wall. Similar to the swimsuit photo for Mayor McSteamy, this one reveals it all. He’s naked, erect, and posing. His hands nearly cup his impressive length but rest just off-center, keeping him fully exposed. His head tilts to the side, a sheepish grin on his lips like he knows he’s being watched, and he is. He isn’t looking back at the camera, though. His lids lower like he has a secret.

  “Who did this?” I choke, my head lifting to Charlie. Jordan dismisses himself, stepping back out of the office and closing the door behind him. Charlie has returned his hands to his pockets and remains silent with his head and eyes lowered.

  “Angela,” he eventually whispers.

  “Did you know about this?”

  His head pops up, and his eyes glare back at me. “I was there, obviously.”

  “I don’t mean taking the picture. I mean the exposure of it, exposing you with it. Did you know she was going to do this?”

  Puzzle pieces are falling on the table but not clicking into place yet.

  Reaching for the bridge of his nose, Charlie explains, “She threatened to share them if I didn’t allow her to keep Lucy for the length of her campaign. She wanted Pint to stay in Philadelphia and run the trail with her until the November election, playing up her single-mother image.”

  Charlie’s already told me how Angela twisted the truth before. She might be considered a mother and single, but the two do not coincide as she does neither together. She hardly sees her child other than the court-mandated timeline.

  I lower Jordan’s phone to my side. “You said no, and she shared the photos.” I’m simply restating what he told me, a niggling in my gut that I’m still missing something.

  “I tried to call her bluff,” he whispers.

  My heart races while I grow clammy and feel nauseous. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Charlie.” And I am. This is so much more than invading someone’s privacy or posting about an affair. This is an intrusion. Invasion of privacy. Defamation of character. “But what I don’t understand is where I fit into this?”

  I told you to tell her first, Jordan said. I glance back at the phon
e. An engagement photo, although pretend, and a naked image of Charlie.

  How did whoever wrote this article get a copy of the pictures so quickly?

  “Jordan and I thought a counterattack would work. Strike before struck. Something positive to negate the negative.”

  “So you asked me to marry you?” My voice roughens as it lowers, and that nausea crawls up my middle. The puzzle pieces click into place, but the sound is the clanking of a lock.

  “Man in love versus naked man,” he states dryly.

  “Who was naked with his first love and not in love with the woman he proposed to,” I clarify, sarcasm dripping from the words.

  “I didn’t love her.”

  “You don’t love me either,” I snap, my head pulling back.

  “I…”

  I hold up a hand to stop him. I don’t want to hear any more lies.

  “You need to make a retraction.” I hold up the phone, shaking it. “Of everything.” I toss the word back to him. Then I toss the phone on his desk. Staring at Charlie, I’m torn in two. My heart breaks for the man literally naked and exposed on such a personal level, but I’m also angry that he used something that should have been precious, like a marriage proposal, as a counterattack to his vindictive ex-wife. When Charlie doesn’t look up at me, I see myself out of his office. I don’t bother closing his door, but I make sure to slam the front one as I exit the building.

  I’m not pretending to marry Charlie any more than I’m pretending to stay married to Richard. Then fear hits me hard in the chest.

  Richard.

  If he sees this, I’ve gone against the agreement not to speak of the divorce until after the season. If people see this article, they’ll know we are separated. Even worse, they’ll think I left him for another man, not that he’s the one who has been sleeping around. People forgive that kind of thing in a man in the public eye, but they’ll crucify me without researching all the facts.

  True, I might have slept with Charlie, but that was after officially divorcing Richard, after years of an unhappy and unhealthy marriage.

  People will never look at my situation for what it was and what it now is.

  I will not marry Charlie Harrington.

  I’m not marrying anyone ever again.

  + + +

  Because I don’t know where else to hide at nine in the morning, I head to Ridged Edge, the biker bar, thinking it might be open despite the fact it might also have closed a few hours ago.

  It was a foolish thought, and I head back to my vehicle when I find the front door locked. Opening my truck door, I see two motorcycles pass the parking lot. I slip into the driver’s seat and lower my head to the steering wheel for a second.

  What am I doing here, and what have I gotten myself into with these men?

  A sharp rap comes to the window, and I find Justice standing outside my father’s truck. Rolling down the window, I smile although I don’t have the energy to fake one more thing.

  “You okay, pretty lady?” Over the past month, I’ve gotten to know him a little bit, and there’s three things I’ve learned. He’s scary as hell, but his eyes can go soft. His voice rumbles like his bike. There’s a compassionate heart behind the leather vest. I’d never tell Justice I’ve noticed these things about him. He’d never admit to any of them anyway.

  “Having a rough morning,” I confess.

  “Bar ain’t open this early,” he tells me.

  “A girl could only wish.” I turn my false smile up a notch, but it all feels wrong. Suddenly, the truck door opens, and he holds out a hand.

  “How about a coffee?”

  My vision shifts to the second bike, parked next to the first, both of which are directly behind the truck. With his arms crossed, looking off in the distance sits James.

  “Maybe you have other plans this morning.” I tip my head to Justice’s biker brother, and he chuckles.

  “A man can always change his plans for a woman desperate for a drink.” There’s some truth to his statement. I know about him and his lady friend.

  “What about him?” I whisper, feeling an unpleasant vibe rippling off James.

  “He’ll live.”

  With my hand in Justice’s, he tugs me out of the truck and then drops my fingers. I follow him to the front door of the bar, which he opens with a key hanging off a set on a chain he pulled from the pocket of his jeans. He flips one light switch to illuminate the place. Keeping the space dim is probably best. Bars always look better at night. Daylight exposes the truth of ones like this—dank and dingy even if scrubbed clean.

  “How do you take it?” he questions as I help myself to a stool. James enters the place, sitting a few stools away from me, holding his phone in his hand.

  “Americano,” I reply, and Justice turns back to me.

  “She means just black,” James mutters.

  “Thank you, Einstein, I think I know this one,” Justice says before disappearing into the small kitchen area off the bar.

  James drops his phone on the bar top, and I flinch while I draw in the hard wood with my thumbnail.

  “What I want to know is how did you pull it off? How did you get him to do this?”

  “Do what?” I ask, turning my gaze to him and meeting icy blue daggers aimed at me.

  “Did you just spread those thighs and let Charlie fall between them? Tempt the good guy with those emerald eyes of yours?”

  “I did no such thing,” I say, turning my entire body in the direction of James. “I did not ask for this.”

  “Didn’t ask him for a community center? Didn’t decide to name it after—” He cuts himself off. “Didn’t trick him into asking you to marry him?”

  “I didn’t trick Charlie into anything. He disapproved of the community center and walk, so I took matters into my own hands. I thought naming it after your son was a nice gesture, and as for Charlie asking me to marry him, that was his plan, not mine, and he did it to cover up the picture scandal.”

  “Mayor McSteamy?” he scoffs. “That’s old news, sweetheart.”

  “No, the new ones from today.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about, woman?”

  “Hey,” Justice snaps, entering the main bar with two mugs of coffee in his hand. He sets one down before me.

  “The naked pictures of Charlie,” I clarify for James.

  “You took naked pictures of Charlie?” Justice asks. His forehead furrows, but his tone suggests he’s impressed.

  “I didn’t take naked pictures of Charlie. His ex-wife did on their honeymoon, and she’s been hanging onto them, waiting for any excuse to expose him.” My thoughts immediately drift to how Charlie told me of Angela’s vindictiveness and the threat of those images over the years.

  “She has some balls,” Justice mutters.

  “So does Charlie,” James states, staring at his phone, and then he laughs, turning the device face down on the counter. “Where’s my mug?” He tips his head to the coffees before Justice and me.

  “Get your own. I’m not a barista, and in case you don’t know this one, Einstein, it means a wench who serves coffee.”

  James huffs and pulls himself off his stool, flipping the middle finger at his friend before disappearing into the kitchen.

  “This your rough morning, darlin’?” Justice asks.

  “Yeah, this is it…in all its glory.” I begin to laugh at the joke I made, laughing until tears come to my eyes. Then the salty liquid shifts, and it’s no longer laughter gracing my lids.

  “Hey now, settle down,” Justice says, standing taller behind the bar. Both hands cover my face as the sobs take over. I haven’t cried like this since the first time Richard stepped out on me. Only the first time did I allow such tears to fall. I was as heartbroken then as I am now.

  I trusted Charlie. Now, I fear I’ve mistaken what we were doing for something it never was.

  Ah, lust and love, you devilish twins.

  “What’s this?” James snaps, coming up beside me, but I c
an’t face him either. He’s Charlie’s brother, and he’s accused me of exactly what I feared would happen. Exactly what Charlie didn’t want to happen. He didn’t want people thinking I received any special treatment if we were together. Then he went ahead and showed the whole town we were together, giving them cause to judge me.

  I lower my head for my arms, crossed over the bar top, still shuddering with the aftereffects of the tears but no longer sobbing so hard.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter, finally lifting my head and swiping at my face. I try to sit straighter and curl both hands around my mug. “I’m sorry all this is happening.” I turn my head to James. “And I’m sorry about your son.”

  His mouth falls open ready to speak when Justice snaps a sharp finger, and James closes his jaw. James looks away from me for a second.

  “I love him,” I whisper, and James’s attention draws back to me. “The damn foolish part of all this wasn’t opening my legs to him but opening my heart.”

  “I shouldn’t’ve…” James begins, but I shake my head to stop him.

  “For the first time in years, I felt desired and wanted and just a little bit reckless when I’d been so good for so long, pretended for so long that everything was okay when it wasn’t. I just wanted a fresh start,” I say, lowering my voice. “Can you imagine what it’s like to want to begin again?”

  Those icy eyes of James melt a little from glacial to smooth ice on a lake. “Yeah, I can get that.”

  “He only asked me to marry him to counter her threat. He did it for nothing.”

  “He did it to protect himself,” Justice says.

  “He did it because he loves you,” James counters.

  “He doesn’t,” I reply, my voice ringed in sadness.

  “He does. He told me outside the school. He loves you.”

  “Funny way of showing it then,” I whisper.

  “A marriage proposal doesn’t say I love you?” Justice questions.

  “You can’t tell me you don’t know this one,” James mocks, and a sad chuckle escapes me. “People marry all the time without love.”

  “Not me,” Justice clarifies.