"How did you get here?"
She didn't turn around. "In a car."
Gage sighed. "Racy."
"Look, this was the bride's idea, and the margaritas have been flowing since dinnertime. Leeann had already had two by the time I got to Maggie's place so I agreed to play chauffeur. I'll make sure she gets home safe and sound."
"I'm not an ogre. Leeann is off duty until Sunday. She's free to drink."
"Ogre, no," she whispered, stepping inside. "Jerk, yes."
"What did you say?"
Racy was saved from answering as they walked inside and Gage swung into hosting duties. He got everyone fresh drinks, mostly coffee and hot chocolate. She'd been right about who'd remained at the bachelor party, with one exception.
"Murph!" She returned Dev's bear hug. "What are you doing here?"
"Just enjoying some male bonding in Gage's man cave."
Racy stepped back and eyed her surroundings, taking in the man-size leather furniture positioned for perfect viewing of a wall-mounted flat-screen television. A Wurlitzer jukebox sat tucked in a corner near the bar, while a dartboard and pool table, both regulation size, completed the room. A room he'd insisted was empty a week ago.
"Yes, it's certainly a man cave," she said, turning back to Dev. "Not a feminine touch in sight."
"Well, it's a bachelor's home."
Technically, it wasn't. And it could use a plush throw blanket, a few sofa pillows and some artwork to really bring out the beauty of the log walls—
Racy halted that thought when Gage called Dev away to help with the drinks. She moved to the sofa and sat near Jack, who was stretched out contentedly by an oversize coffee table.
"Don't get too comfortable," she warned her pet. "You're banned from this place after tonight."
Jack heaved a deep sigh, closed his eyes and Racy swore the mutt's lips curved up into a grin.
"Extra hot, extra chocolate and enough whipped cream for three mugs."
Racy looked up. Gage was standing in front of her. She rose and took the mug, teetering with white foamy cream. "How did you—ah, Sherry's Diner. You know, you need to find yourself a hobby instead of memorizing my eating habits."
Gage leaned in closer. "I think I've got enough on my plate at the moment."
"Yeah, I bet you do." Racy tried to move back a step, as much as Jack's prone form would allow. "What with all those committees—"
"This is an amazing house." Maggie stood near the pool table. "Any chance we can see the rest of it?"
"I'm sure Gage would love to play tour guide," Landon said with a grin as he looked down at her, "as soon as you tell us why you crashed my party."
"Well, um…we wanted—that is, we figured—"
"We figured it would be more fun hanging with you boys," Maryann offered with a quick wink in Racy's direction.
"Yeah, the evening was shot after the male strippers left," Racy added, ignoring the gruff male laughter while returning Gage's direct stare over the rim of her mug.
"So, about that tour?" Maggie asked.
"Well, the place isn't a hundred percent complete, but if you want to see it." Gage put his mug on the coffee table. "Follow me, ladies."
The group headed for the doorway. Then Leeann turned around, having found her equilibrium. "You coming, Racy?"
"No, I'll stay with the guys. I fear I'm a bit too trashy to be walking among the hallowed halls of the sheriff's house."
Gage halted. He turned and glared at her. "What are you talking about?"
"Destiny's Betterment Committee."
Even in the dim light from the hallway, she saw a shadow pass over his dark eyes. She should let this go, but she couldn't. It still hurt to know what he thought of her and her work and that pissed her off even more.
He walked back past everyone until he stood in front of her again. "What about it?"
"You're a member."
"As town sheriff, it's my duty to be on all sorts of committees."
"Don't you know what they stand for?"
"Yeah, making the town a better place, hence the name. That includes upgrading the town gazebo, the new playground at the elementary school, making improvements to the fairgrounds—"
"Closing down The Blue Creek."
That gave him pause, and this time she saw the truth in his eyes. Anger flared hot and hard inside her chest. "You bastard! I saw the letter…I saw your name! It says by dancing on the bar, the girls are behaving improperly and immorally. Donna Pearson showed up herself last Sunday to tell me that we are no better than common strippers."
She planted her hands on her hips. "As if the Belles and I are responsible for sending every man in the county into a sexual frenzy, God forbid, and as a result bringing down the moral climate of the state. If you ask me, Donna Pearson could use a little sexual frenzy in her life."
"I didn't sign a letter."
"And now I have a hearing before the town selectmen—"
"I didn't sign any damn letter." Gage cut her off. "Not the original or the one they sent you today."
Chapter Nine
S he could take her out. Right here. Right now. She wouldn't even need a running start to body slam Donna Pearson onto the meeting room's faded gray carpet. She'd have to slip off the stilettos, but that was okay, they were pinching her toes anyway.
Racy pulled in a deep breath through her nose and slowly released it through pursed lips. Stay calm, it's almost over and you get the last word.
Donna's sharp voice filled the room and echoed off the walls. Her censure of the Belles sounded more like a lecture from the pulpit on the sins of drinking, dancing and having a good time than a response to a community issue. And the community connection was Racy's ace in the hole.
She hoped.
Besides, her bar wasn't the only place in town to get a beer. There were a couple of other bars and a few restaurants, including the new steak house. Of course, none of them had dancing waitresses.
The seven men and women who made up the town's leaders sat side by side at a long table in front of her. The dozen or so members of the betterment committee occupied nearby chairs in the stuffy, small room.
And here she sat alone, with her leather portfolio in front of her, mentally willing herself not to sweat. Even the telephone that allowed Max to listen in from Florida was on the selectmen's table.
She'd already wowed them visually in her subdued basic black suit, Christian Louboutin knockoff stilettos, hair in a conservative French twist and demure makeup she hoped hid the results of only a few hours' sleep. And financially, with a detailed report of the economic impact The Blue Creek had on Destiny. Her compulsion to track every penny earned and spent since she had become manager had made it easy to pull the facts and figures together.
Forgetting the way she'd talked to Gage last night?
Not so easy.
After voicing his innocence in signing the letters in that low-timbred voice of his, he'd ushered her friends on to the promised tour of his house. Silence had filled the game room for a long moment until Dev had suggested he could make sure her friends got home okay.
Racy had jumped at his offer and after a quick apology for disturbing the party, she and Jack had left and headed straight for her office. She'd read an encouraging e-mail from Max, signing off on the report she'd sent earlier, then she'd pulled out the two betterment committee letters and read them again.
Gage hadn't signed them. Oh, his name was listed—along with the other members—but Donna's was the only actual signature on the two correspondences.
Damn, damn, damn!
She'd ignored the desire to call him despite the late hour. Instead, she'd arrived at the town hall early this morning determined to deliver an apology while the jolt from her first cup of coffee was still running through her veins.
Gage was nowhere to be found. Leeann had joined her, dressed in her official khaki uniform, not showing a hint of aftereffects from the night before. She'd been called into duty thanks to a three-
car pileup on the highway that had required Gage's attention.
The meeting had been called to order and Racy had tucked away her frustration, refusing to think about why she cared if he was there or not. She'd been about to take her seat when the door had opened. Gage had stepped inside, his gaze moving quickly around the room. The double take he'd done when he'd caught sight of her set a fluttering through her insides, but then he'd clenched his jaw and pressed his lips into a frown as he took a seat next to his mother.
"Anything you'd like to say, Max?"
The deep voice of Selectman Roberts, a good friend and golf partner of Donna Pearson's husband, yanked Racy back to the present. Donna had returned to her seat, hands folded primly on her lap.
"Nope." Max's voice rose from the speakerphone. "I'll let my manager speak for The Blue Creek."
"Miss Dillon?"
She checked her watch. They'd been at it for almost three hours. It was close to lunchtime and people were drooping. Short and sweet was the way to go. She rose, took a breath and waited until she had everyone's eyes on her.
Including Donna's. And Gage's.
"There isn't too much more I want to add. As you saw in my financial report, The Blue Creek is a viable business, supporting a number of townspeople as employees as well as other businesses in Destiny with its steady flow of out-of-town customers. And part of that is because of the entertainment we provide, everything from up-and-coming country bands to the Blue Creek Belles. As I already told the betterment committee, being a Belle is strictly voluntary, not a condition of employment, and the security team is always in place to ensure the safety of both the waitresses and the customers.
"And it's those waitresses, the rest of the staff and the town's citizens, many of whom have worked their way through college by being employed at The Blue Creek, which make it a success. Present company included, like myself and Selectman Anderson, who waitressed at the Creek twenty years ago. As you know, Mrs. Anderson divides her time between her law practice and being a town selectman."
The older woman, still as petite and curvy as she was in the group staff photos that lined Max's office, smiled at her.
"We currently have numerous students on staff, but also mothers and fathers looking to make ends meet and pay the bills. Sherri Hart is one of my Belles. With three kids at home she needs to subsidize her husband's monthly government checks, thanks to his sacrifice while serving in the National Guard."
As she spoke, Racy realized she was fighting for more than just her dancers. If Donna Pearson won this battle it would only be a matter of time before she tried to close down the bar altogether. That wasn't going to happen.
The Blue Creek had been her safe haven over the years, a place she could count on when the rest of her world was spinning out of control. She'd started working as a waitress just months before her first husband had died, and here she was, eight years later, only a loan agreement away from offering to buy the place and make it truly her own.
She'd be damned if anyone would take it away from her.
"But the most important thing The Blue Creek brings to this community is its connection to Destiny's history. On the land where the current building stands, the original Blue Creek Saloon was founded in 1878. The brick wall behind the main bar is the only part of that building still with us. Before Wyoming was a state, when Destiny wasn't much more than a stop on the road, there was The Blue Creek. It was here before the first school, the first church, the bank or the sheriff's office."
She glanced at Gage. When the corner of his mouth lifted into a half grin, she tore her gaze away and focused again on the men and women at the center table. "The Blue Creek Saloon deserves to stay in its present form and continue to be run by the people who have made it the success it is today. Thank you."
Racy sat, wanting desperately to draw in a deep, cleansing breath. She settled instead for a quick prayer.
"It's almost lunchtime." Selectman Roberts looked at his watch, "And the fact is we're in a special session, so I'm calling for an immediate vote. Please remember, this is purely for approving an ordinance against the type of dancing performed by select employees at The Blue Creek Saloon, nothing more. A 'for' will signify approval of the ordinance, a 'nay' will be a vote against and the dancing will remain."
Donna opened her mouth to protest, but was quickly silenced. Racy sat perched on the edge of her seat and tried to give off an air of calm.
Roberts voted against allowing the dancing, as did the gentleman next to him, also a close friend of Donna's husband.
You knew that was going to happen. Don't panic.
Five more votes and she needed four of them.
Nancy Anderson was next and she offered Racy a quick wink and voted in favor of the Belles. Next was the owner of The Destiny Inn, a bed-and-breakfast located in a restored Victorian, who spoke of enjoying his first beer at The Blue Creek after returning home from serving in Vietnam. He also voted her way.
Two for, two against.
The next vote went against the Belles and the smirk on Donna's lips seemed to rise right up into her eyes. Racy lifted her chin and returned her stare as the only other woman on the selectmen board voted for the dancing while invoking the Bill of Rights. Racy had no idea which amendment covered her girls, but she was thankful for the support.
Donna looked away.
Three for, three against.
The final and deciding vote was going to come from local businessman Travis Clay, whose family history went back to the first settlers of Destiny. He owned a few businesses, including a Western-wear store next to The Blue Creek. Racy couldn't say he was a regular in the bar, but he did come in often enough with people she assumed were business associates.
Of course, she did have a somewhat sordid history with his twin daughters, who had graduated high school with her. The Clay sisters had run with the popular crowd, hence the unpleasantness when they'd taken a few too many pokes at Racy's expense. She'd responded with a well-played prank, but that was years ago.
Travis, his eyes on Racy as he leaned forward and laced his fingers together, paused before he spoke.
"Nay."
A muted cheer came from outside the meeting room doors. It set Selectman Roberts in action and he announced the final vote and banged his gavel, ending the meeting.
She'd won.
She'd actually done it.
Racy grinned, keeping her composure in check as fireworks of pride and joy erupted inside of her. She stood and gathered her paperwork. A quick glance at Donna found her surrounded by a few committee members. Her stiff posture and the high-and-mighty air hadn't changed at all.
"Congratulations, Miss Dillon."
Racy turned to find Sandy Steele at her table. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to force herself not to look around for Gage. "T-thank you, Mrs. Steele."
"I want you to know many of the committee members were surprised by Donna's actions. We didn't learn of her letters until the meeting yesterday." Gage's mother spoke as she buttoned her winter coat. "Donna has worked wonders for the town. Perhaps her successes and the committee's willingness to follow her lead—"
Sandy Steele cut off her own words and smiled. Her blue eyes, the same ones inherited by her son, sparkled. "I didn't mean to rattle on, just know that many of us are glad the vote went your way."
Gage headed toward Racy and his mother, but walked by without a glance in their direction. Racy tried to squelch her disappointment and kept her gaze from following him from the room. What did she expect? So, okay he didn't sign the letters, but he still wasn't happy about his sister working at her bar.
Racy grabbed her purse and coat from the back of the chair. "Thank you. It's nice to know not everyone shares Donna's opinion."
Reading Racy's mind, Sandy touched her arm. "Gage is having a hard time remembering his little sister is now an adult. He's protective of those he loves and feels responsible for, and that often includes the citizens of Destiny."
The
warmth of the older woman's hand felt good on Racy's skin. She'd tried over the years to convince herself growing up without a mother wasn't such a terrible thing, but moments like this made her mindful of what she'd missed.
She looked at the simple gold band on Sandy's hand, and realized she was talking with the woman who was legally her mother-in-law.
A lump lodged in her throat.
That made Gina her sister-in-law. And the twins, Garrett and Giselle—Garrett, the spitting image of his father and older brother, and Giselle, who'd served her this morning at the doughnut shop—were family, too.
No, they weren't. She and Gage weren't married. Not really.
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