***
By the time they rolled back into town, Emma was exhausted down to her bones. There wasn’t a single part of her that wasn’t demoralized, from her greasy hair to her throbbing feet.
The day had been a success, if success meant earning a tidy profit that more than covered their expenses, including gas and wages. For the first time in a month, the tightness in her chest eased somewhat. She wasn’t going to lose the house—not yet, anyway. She could still pay Cesar’s wages. So yes, the tightness in her chest had eased.
But everything else ached. What didn’t ache physically ached existentially. Those were worst of all. Emma hated existential aches.
They had sold out at SuperMart. That was good. But it had taken them all day to do it, and that was bad. The sun had been rising when they left this morning, and now it was setting. Worse, they had spent three hours driving. What had been an easy hour-long commute this morning had turned into a two-hour slog through traffic on the return home.
Was this going to be her life? Burritos from sunup to sundown, and three hours in traffic? The thought of it made her stomach curdle with dread.
It wasn’t that Emma was opposed to hard work. The Airstream was open seven days a week, after all, and she worked all seven of them. It wasn’t the same, though. For one thing, the Airstream closed at three, which meant she was done by four. That left plenty of time to get a happy hour drink with Kate and Suzie—which, more often than not these days, consisted of club soda for Suzie as she was either pregnant or nursing—or to binge a television show if she wanted. She might not always have time to fold laundry, but her house was neat and tidy, just the way she liked it.
For another, she didn’t spend three hours driving. Her commute was a ten-minute walk from her front yard to the house, fifteen if she had to drive from the church or another location in Hart’s Ridge. Sitting in a never-ending stream of cars full of irritated, aggressive drivers was soul crushing.
Most importantly, she knew every single one of her customers in Hart’s Ridge. She saw the same people day in and day out. Even the workers who commuted from outside Hart’s Ridge were still the same every day. She knew their lives, their families, and how they liked their coffee. She liked hearing the gossip. She liked seeing familiar faces. It made her work mean something more than just a paycheck.
Tomorrow they would be changing locations to Colby County Community College. It was fifteen minutes closer, and far enough from Asheville that they might avoid traffic. Usually a college campus would be a safe bet for making sales. However, it was also summer, which meant the campus wouldn’t be as populated as it was in fall and spring. It was a gamble, but maybe it would pay off.
Right now, she was so tired she didn’t want to think about it anymore. She didn’t want to think about the streetlights, either, and how she was going to get them sanded and painted when all her daylight hours were devoted to burritos. She didn’t want to think about how Kate and Suzie had probably had a great time at happy hour without her. She didn’t want to think about why Eli’s face was on a gigantic poster with Vote for Law and Order in big black letters.
Wait, what?
She hit the brakes and came to a stop there in the middle of the street, not bothering to pull over. She stared out the window, rubbed her eyes, then looked again. No, she wasn’t hallucinating. Vote for Law and Order, then his serious, unsmiling face, followed by Vote Eli Carter for Mayor.
What. The. Hell.
***
“Oh, so we’re doing this again,” Suzie said, looking down at Emma. “Well, I’m not getting down there with you this time. I’ve gained a thousand pounds since yesterday, all in my stomach.”
Emma kept her eyes on the ceiling fan’s slow, lazy circles. “I didn’t ask you to.”
The floorboards vibrated beneath her as her friends plopped themselves down on the couch. “I take it she heard the news?” Kate asked.
“We saw the posters driving back into town,” Cesar said. “She screamed a bit, and now here we are.”
“Emma, honey, this isn’t the end of the world,” Kate cajoled. “Maybe it’s even a good thing. You don’t want to be mayor, right? Now you won’t have to be. Obviously we hate him, so that’s a factor to consider, but he might...maybe he would do a good job. And you would be off the hook. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Theoretically, yes,” Emma said.
But in reality? In reality it would suck.
Emma was not a practical, even-keeled sort of person. She didn’t make decisions based on logic and reason. She was driven by emotion. Rationally, she knew that Eli was a decent human being who cared about Hart’s Ridge, and their painful history didn’t change that. As mayor, he wasn’t going to go outlawing food trucks or raising taxes on small businesses. Her life would continue on the same as it always was.
But emotionally. Emotionally, she knew that everything would change. Hart’s Ridge wouldn’t feel like home anymore. It would be his town. He would preside over all her favorite events, like the Christmas tree lighting and the Fourth of July fireworks. His infuriatingly handsome face would be everywhere.
It would be intolerable. Absolutely intolerable.
She would have to leave. This town was only big enough for the both of them when she could pretend he didn’t exist. There would be no more pretending if Eli were mayor.
It had never occurred to Emma to leave Hart’s Ridge. Then again, it had never occurred to her not to. Leaving had never been an option, not with her dad in the Asheville prison. She needed to stay close to him while he was there, and to be a soft place to land when he got out.
Every decision she had made had been focused on immediate survival, not the future or ambition. Had she wanted to run a food truck? Not particularly. But that was the opportunity that had presented itself when she needed a job. Fortunately, it turned out she did enjoy cooking—or at least she didn’t hate it—but it wasn’t her passion the way it was for Delmy Garcia, who put her heart and soul into Dreamer’s Café.
What was her passion? She had no idea. Did passion even matter, so long as bills got paid? It had always seemed to her that passion was a luxury, and quite frankly, she couldn’t afford it.
Staying in Hart’s Ridge, that was just happenstance, too. Her father would have sold the house if she had asked him to, but she couldn’t have asked it of him. He needed something stable waiting for him when he got out. And she loved the house, truly. Anyway, she had flunked out of community college, so where would she go? What would she do for money? It wasn’t like she had talent to fall back on, either.
No, she had never considered leaving, but she had never chosen to stay.
Now...now she was considering what it would be like to actually leave. And goddammit, she was staying. Hart’s Ridge was hers. She loved it. Loved the mountains. Loved the people. Loved the buildings. Loved the freaking lamp posts she had sacrificed her muscles to scrub free of rust. Maybe she wasn’t passionate about cooking burritos, but she was passionate about this. About Hart’s Ridge.
She couldn’t let Eli take it from her. She wouldn’t.
But how was she going to stop him? Who was stupid enough to go up against Eli Carter, beloved officer of Hart’s Ridge and all around hottie?
She was.
Lord help her.
“Emma.” Suzie nudged her none too gently with a swollen foot. “You okay? You’ve been quiet for a really long time.”
“Just thinking.” The fan kept spinning, and Emma kept watching. It soothed her. “You know why small towns survive? The same reason big cities do. They either make something people want, or they’re a place people want to go. Like, L.A. makes movies and New York makes...I don’t know, stocks or whatever.”
“I don’t think they make stocks,” Kate murmured.
Emma ignored her. “And Piedmont, that’s where all the good ski resorts are and the ritzy shopping, so people go there. Hart’s Ridge made chicken parts.”
“Gross.” Suzie wrinkled her
nose. “You’re lucky I’m past the nauseous part of this pregnancy, because you’re directly in my path.”
“But it’s true. That’s what we did for the world. Now we don’t. So how is Hart’s Ridge going to survive? People have to come here. That’s the only answer. I don’t know why they don’t. The scenery is gorgeous, the food is amazing—”
“Thanks,” Cesar said.
“—and there’s a ton to do here. Hiking and kayaking and all that. People should come here. They would love it. You know, some girl with two million followers on social media posted a picture of her lunch at Dreamer’s Cafe yesterday, and today Delmy had more customers coming in from Asheville than she knows what to do with.” Emma had stopped on their way back from SuperMart to pick up a quick dinner to go, and Delmy had told her all about it.
“If this were a movie, that’s what the heroine would do, you know,” Emma continued. “She’d turn her house into a bed and breakfast, like her parents had always wanted. She’d contact that girl with the two million followers and a few more like her and invite them to test it out before she opened. She’d set it up so that their visit coincided with the Fourth of July celebration. That would be smart. They would post pictures all over social media, and more people would come. It would all be a huge success, the town would have a new industry to see them through, and her enemy would rue the day he ran for mayor against her.” Emma lifted a fist like she was making a vow. “Rue. The. Day.”
For a moment no one said anything, and then Kate broke the silence. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “You’re going to run for mayor.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as the epiphany hit her. “Yeah. I’m going to open a bed and breakfast, invite social media influencers, make this year’s Fourth of July celebration the best one Hart’s Ridge has ever seen, and Eli will rue the day he ran against me. Why not?”
Because it was insane, that’s why not. But in Emma’s experience, insane plans were the best kind.
Cesar cleared his throat. “Well, shit, girl. You thought of something.”
Chapter Seven
“Elias Robert Carter, you turn around and face me, you coward.”
He couldn’t stop the shit-eating grin from spreading across his face at her use of his full name. Lord, she was pissed. The fun kind of pissed. The kind where she was about to give him a good dressing down instead of ignoring him for another eight years. He wasn’t stupid enough to say it to her face, but he had always...enjoyed...Emma’s temper in a way he wasn’t sure she would appreciate. It made his dick hard.
He turned slowly, careful not to slosh the coffees he was carrying. They had agreed to meet here, at the fairgrounds, at the ungodly hour of seven a.m., which meant coffee and pastries were required. “Good morning, ma’am,” he said, schooling his features into wide-eyed innocence.
Her hands went to her hips and her expression reminded him of a thunderstorm. “Don’t you ma’am me, Eli. I know what you did. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I brought you coffee. And a donut.”
Her gaze flicked to his hands, taking in the tray he balanced with one and the white paper bag he gripped in the other. Her expression softened just a little. “From Hot and Wired?” she asked hopefully.
“Of course.” He pulled out a Boston cream for himself and handed her the bag. “I didn’t know if you still liked lemon jelly.”
He didn’t want to admit how long he had stood at the counter in Hot and Wired, contemplating the choices like it was life or death. Maybe Emma would have preferred an iced coffee, since it was supposed to get pretty hot today. Then again, it was still early enough that the fog hadn’t burned off, and it was barely fifty-five degrees. He’d finally decided on hot coffee with skim milk, no sugar, which was how she drank it eight years ago. Had her tastes changed? He hated that he didn’t know. He hated that what should have been a simple task was fraught with booby traps.
He didn’t want to get this wrong. He had gotten so much wrong.
“I still like lemon jelly.”
Thank God. His relief was short-lived, however, because she took a sip of her coffee and grimaced.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like the coffee?”
“It’s fine,” she said bravely. “It’s...drinkable. What’s in it?”
“Skim milk. Nothing else.”
“Ah. You remembered what I used to like, way back when.” Something flitted across her expression that he couldn’t quite decipher. “I’ve become a better person since then. I take cream now, the heavier the better. Still no sugar, though. I prefer to save sweetness for pastries.” To emphasize her point, she took a huge bite of donut and moaned. “Oh, my God. Amazing.”
Another moment where she forgot she hated him. He basked in it. He took a sip of coffee, trying to hide the obscene pleasure he was taking in the way she demolished her donut.
“Don’t think you can bribe me.” Her donut half gone, she apparently remembered her anger. “I saw the posters. You’re running for mayor.”
“Sure am.” He sipped his coffee and watched her cheeks pinken with anger. It was good coffee. Hot and Wired was the only coffee shop in Hart’s Ridge, but Eli had never bemoaned the lack of a Starbucks or any of the other big chains that popped up on every city corner. “Is that a problem?”
It was clear from the way she was trying to incinerate him with her eyes that yes, it was a problem, as far as Emma was concerned. Good.
“You said you didn’t want to be mayor. I thought we were on the same page.”
“I changed my mind. Someone had to step up, and so far, we haven’t had any takers. Maybe you’ve noticed? And, let me remind you, you didn’t want the job either. So I’ll ask you again. Do you have a problem with me running for mayor?”
She tore off a bite of her donut and glared at him while she chewed.
Suddenly he was angry. Angry that she wouldn’t admit it, already. She liked to pretend that he was nothing to her, that in her world he didn’t exist. He had made that easy for her.
To hell with that.
He did exist, dammit. It was time for them both to face the truth. He wasn’t nothing. Not to her. Even if he was just her enemy, that made him something. If he were mayor, she wouldn’t be able to deny that.
Maybe...maybe he hadn’t had the purest of intentions when he threw his name in the hat. Sure, he wanted what was best for Hart’s Ridge, and that was Emma. And yeah, he wanted what was best for Emma, and that was Hart’s Ridge. That’s what he had told himself, and it was all true.
But maybe there was also a tiny, not-so-altruistic part of him that wanted to prove to her that he mattered to her, for better or worse. To make her see that she couldn’t ignore him forever. If he were mayor, she could never ignore him again.
“You said you didn’t want it for yourself, right?” he asked, trying to goad her out of her silent fuming. “So why not me?”
“Maybe I changed my mind,” she muttered.
He leaned forward. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”
She glared mutinously. “You know damn well what I said, Eli. I changed my mind. I think I could do something good for this town, and I’m going to give it my all. You want to be mayor, Eli? You’ll have to beat me first.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Well, then, Ms. Andrews, you’ve got yourself a fight. The acting mayor running against the acting deputy mayor. Won’t that be fun?”
“Fun is not the word that comes to mind, no.” Her eyes darted back and forth, and he could practically see the gears turning in her brain. “You can’t be mayor unless you quit being a cop. Are you really going to do that?”
“Maybe I’ll just get the law changed. Did you ever think of that? Have the City Council approve the salary instead of the mayor. Easy.” He had no idea what changing a law actually entailed, and he had his doubts that the process was easy, but Emma didn’t need to know that.
Realizing he was in imminent danger of having co
ffee thrown in his face, he abruptly turned and strode toward the long, red barn. “Keep up, Ms. Andrews. We have work to do.”
He didn’t look behind him, but he knew she was following by the angry stomping sounds.
“I told you to stop calling me Ms. Andrews,” she said when she had finally caught up with him. “We played hopscotch together.”
He ignored this. “Here is where we set up the food vendors last year. Inside the barn were picnic tables where everyone could sit and eat. The tables should still be there. Might need to clean them up some.” He heaved open the heavy sliding doors. “Yep. Still here.”
Emma followed him inside. “I forgot how big it was.”
The only thing that stopped him from cracking a that’s what she said joke was that the sight of her standing in the single shaft of sunlight damn near made him swallow his tongue. Everything was muted in the dim light, but not Emma. She gleamed like some untouchable goddess. He wanted to poke her in the arm, anything to assure himself she was human.
That was a good way to lose a finger, so instead he popped the last bite of donut into his mouth. “So, what do you think? Same setup as last year?”
There was a smudge of chocolate on his thumb. He sucked it off, not missing how her eyes glazed slightly as they tracked his movement. Interesting. Turnabout was fair play, even if that turnabout came eight years later. Back then, Emma had been the queen of mixed signals. The little touches. An innuendo here and there. He wasn’t a jackass; he knew at least half of it was unintentional. Could she help it if licking an ice cream cone gave him ideas? But the other half...yeah, that had made him wonder. But he had always been too chicken to find out.
“What are you thinking?” he asked. “Same old setup or something different?”
“Oh. Right.” She blinked several times, discomfited. A flush spread over her cheeks. He enjoyed that. “I was thinking...something different.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” She turned slowly on her toes, taking in the whole barn. “A band. Fairy lights. Dancing.”
Make Me Love You Page 7
