by Cat Johnson
After a glance in my direction, Red quickly continued, “Maybe he’s just trying to get used to the idea of being the new mayor. I know he usually goes to the town meetings anyway, but in the past it was his choice. And he could send Cash or Boone, or his dad if he couldn’t go. Now, as mayor, he has to attend. Not just attend either. He’ll have to run the meetings, which is a pretty big deal.”
“I don’t know if that's it.” I shook my head.
Stone seemed to love those meetings. Even when they made him angry, he kept going back for more.
“And don’t forget he’ll have to deal with all the old biddies and old man Buck bitching at him now he’s mayor,” Red continued.
“Yeah. That part is true. It is a lot . . . and I made him do it, just because of my library. I felt guilty enough about it already. But I truly don’t think it’s the mayor thing. There’s something else.”
“Like what?” Red asked.
“Honestly, I’m afraid it’s the wedding.”
“What does Boone’s wedding have to do with Stone?”
“Lots. We’ve been dating for double the length of time that Boone and Sarah have. Their wedding has brought up the issue of marriage—or rather the lack of a marriage—between us. I think Boone getting married has shone a light on our relationship. On how we might have completely different goals for our future together.”
“Okay. And what goals are those?” Red asked.
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“Maybe not that obvious, so how about giving me a hint?” Red tipped her head and waited.
“He doesn’t want to get married,” I told her.
“And you do?” she asked.
“Of course, I do.”
“Don’t say of course, like that. I didn’t know that about you and we’ve been friends for two years.”
“Why would you think I didn’t want to get married?” I asked, honestly shocked.
“You seem so independent. Like you don’t need a husband to be complete. Besides, I wouldn’t assume every woman wants to get married. I’m not sure I wanna marry Cash. In fact, I think it’s safer if we just keep things the way they are. Happily dating. Getting married might mess things up.”
“Red’s right, Harper. Not every woman’s goal in life is to get married,” Agnes announced as she came into the kitchen from the other room, where she’d obviously been listening to our conversation while also watching the morning news on television.
I frowned. “Aunt Agnes, I don’t think I ever heard one way or another from Mom. Were you never married? Not even back in the old days?”
One snowy brow shot high. “The old days? You mean when I drove my covered wagon across the prairie?”
I cringed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“I know.” She patted my hand. “And no. I never married.”
I felt to my bones that there was a story there somewhere and maybe, just maybe, I’d be lucky enough to hear it. But now was not the time.
I needed to defend my position. Convince them that it wasn’t the ring or the marriage certificate that I needed.
That it was more about knowing Stone was on the same page as I was when it came to our relationship—our future. Even though that was a bit of a fib because I was envious as hell of Sarah’s fairytale Christmas wedding.
But I didn’t get to say anything as the doorbell rang.
Agnes glanced up from where she was pouring herself more coffee.
I held up one hand. “I’ll get it.”
Yes, I was, once again answering the door in the clothes I’d slept in, but at least this time my outfit was yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Score one for falling to sleep in yesterday’s clothes.
Realizing my life couldn’t be less glamorous and accepting that, I crossed the massive foyer to the entrance.
Through the windows in the double front doors, I could see Carson, in uniform, so I assumed this was an official visit.
This man seemed destined to forever be catching me at my worst in the morning.
With no time to worry about that now, I used both hands to turn the lock and the knob at the same time. The trick got the old Victorian door open. Two years later and I’d finally figured out the damn door. Yay, me.
“Good morning,” I said, taking note of every detail of Carson’s uniform so I could remember them for my deputy hero.
“Good morning. I have news.”
“Come on in.” I stepped back so he could come into the foyer and I could close the door against the autumn cold behind him. “News about what? If it’s that Stone won the election, we heard already.”
“Yeah, I saw him celebrating at Laney’s the other night. This is actually about you.”
“Me?” I asked.
“Your signs.”
My eyes widened. He was still looking for my stolen campaign signs after all this time?
“Oh. Okay.” I nodded.
“We caught something on video.”
“On video? Really?”
His lips twitched. “We’re not that behind the times in Mudville, Harper. We have heard of video.”
“Of course. Sorry. So what did you see?”
“A doorbell camera showed someone pulling up in a vehicle and throwing what looked like your campaign signs into the dumpster in the grocery store parking lot. The dumpster had already been emptied so the signs were gone. But, Harper . . .” His intense gaze met and held mine. “I . . . recognized the vehicle on the video.”
“Who does it belong to?”
He pressed his lips together. “That’s what makes this situation touchy.”
Now I was intrigued. I waited for him to go on.
After dropping his focus to the wood floor, he looked up again and finally said, “It was the mayor’s car.”
My eyes widened. “The mayor.” I considered that, then laughed. “That actually makes me feel better.”
“It does? Why?” Carson asked.
“I’d expect the man I was running against to not want me to win. That’s way better than thinking a regular citizen would hate the idea of me as mayor enough they’d steal my signs.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I understand. The question is, what do you want to do about this?”
“What can I do?” I asked. Honestly, I didn’t know.
“Well, you can choose to pursue charges. Tampering with campaign signs is a crime.”
I shook my head. “No. Let it go. I don’t want to press charges. Stone won. Pickett lost. That’s enough.”
“You want to let it go completely?” he asked.
“I think so. You know what they say. Take the high road. When they go low, we go high, and all that.”
“All right. I think that’s a good decision.” Carson glanced around and leaned in a bit. “And, uh, don’t tell anyone this, but I’m happy Stone won.”
“Thanks. I just hope he’s happy.”
Carson laughed, even though I hadn’t been joking. “Okay, I should be getting back to the department.”
He turned toward the door. But before he went, I had one more question.
“Carson.”
He turned back to face me.
“How did you find the doorbell camera video of the grocery store parking lot?”
I hadn’t thought that, weeks later, he’d still be investigating five missing signs for a person who wasn’t even a valid candidate any longer. And I definitely didn’t consider he’d still be going door-to-door looking for video. Unless there just wasn’t anything else for him to do in this town and he was bored, which was always possible.
“It was the Trouts actually,” Carson said.
“The Trouts? It was their camera that caught it?”
“No. They live on the other side of town. But Mrs. Trout was discussing your signs being stolen with her husband and he mentioned that whoever stole them wouldn’t want to keep the incriminating evidence around so they’d probably dump them somewhere. That gave her the idea to ask anyone who had a v
iew of any of the dumpsters in town.”
“Wow.”
“I know.” He smiled. “She and her friends did a lot of work on this all on their own before they came to me. They were surprisingly thorough. And they gave me a complete rundown of where every dumpster within the village is located. In case I ever need that information for ‘a future case’.”
I was reeling. Then I remembered the day of the election. Mary Brimley telling me about having a lead and Alice saying they had to wait to tell me until they had something concrete.
It was pretty obvious now this was what they were working on. And the fact they’d gone to that trouble for me was surprising. And incredibly sweet.
Which meant that all the bad things I’d thought about the old biddies for the past two years were wrong.
Well, maybe not all of what I thought was wrong. They were terrible gossips. But, as evidenced by the handsome deputy by the door, the old biddies could also be a huge help.
I shook my head, still wrapping my head around this. “I never thought Mrs. Trout liked me. In fact, for the past two years I was pretty sure she and all her friends hated me.”
“Why would they hate you?”
“The old bi—older ladies in town have a nickname for me. Ms. Naughty. And Agnes got a violation for my little library being on the front lawn, so someone definitely doesn’t like me.”
One of his light brown brows rose. “Ah. Stone running for mayor makes more sense now.”
“Yeah. I guess I kind of convinced him to run.” I cringed. “I’m a horrible girlfriend, huh?”
Carson flashed straight white teeth at me. “No. He’s lucky to have you.”
With that he tipped his hat in a swoon worthy move and let himself out. And I decided not only was the town sheriff going to be the hero in my current book, but I also needed to write about many more men in uniform.
But in the meantime, I had to figure out what was wrong with my boyfriend.
NINETEEN
Stone
I drove past the Muddy River Inn and gazed wistfully at the parking lot.
Inside was exactly what I needed—enough alcohol to steel my nerves and make what I was about to do seem like a good idea. But no. I had to do this sober.
Tonight I was going to confess everything to Harper and hope for the best. I was already on borrowed time since my brothers knew. I was just lucky Cash hadn’t already told Red.
Telling Harper was the right thing to do, so why did I have such a pit in my stomach? Because I knew it could ruin everything between us, that’s why.
I parked in front of Agnes’s house along the curb rather than pulling around the back. I figured parking on the street would make it easier to drive away after Harper threw me out of the house. Then I could drive to the liquor store, grab a bottle, and go home to hide in the chicken coop.
It was a good plan for a worst case scenario. God, I hoped it didn’t come to that.
Maybe she wouldn’t throw me out. Maybe she’d want me to stay so she could yell at me. If that happened, I’d sit there and take it. I deserved whatever she dished out. I only hoped she’d forgive me.
It was that hope, that we’d get through this and come out the other side stronger for it, that propelled me forward.
I walked around the house and in through the back door, hoping it wasn’t the last time I did so.
“What’s wrong?”
My gaze whipped up to find her standing by the refrigerator refilling her water bottle.
“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Dammit. Here I was doing it again. Hiding. Denying. When I should be confessing.
She raised a brow. “You don’t exactly have a poker face, Stone.”
“I don’t?” I frowned.
Generally I did pretty well when I played cards. But that wasn’t the point. What was, was that I had to tell her.
Obviously Harper could sense something was wrong. She was suspicious by nature. But this time there actually was something I was keeping from her.
I knew how my woman’s mind worked. What she was imagining was probably far worse than the truth. By now, she’d have built a whole story about why I’d been avoiding her for the past two days.
She probably thought I had a wife and kids and a whole other life in another county or something equally ridiculous.
Sighing, I forced my gaze up to hers. “Can we talk?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God. There is something up with you. I knew it.”
She grasped for the edge of the stove and braced on it, looking like she might hyperventilate.
I took a step forward, afraid she might collapse, but she held up one hand and said, “Just tell me. Is it . . . someone else?”
“What? No—”
“Is that why the sex has been so good lately? You’re practicing on someone else.” Her voice cracked on the last words.
Being a man, a man who truly enjoyed the pleasures of being with a woman, the sex part of her question of course caught my complete attention.
“Wait, sex has been extra good lately?”
While I basked in the compliment, Harper was breaking down. Her eyes filled with tears, making them look even more like indigo pools of water than usual.
Now was obviously not the time for sex talk. She was really upset.
I was a little upset myself. She believed I'd cheat on her?
That was crazy. And kind of insulting. I’d never done anything to betray her trust in me.
Well, except for writing a few comments on the Mudville forum. In the total scheme of things, that was pretty small potatoes compared to what she had accused me of.
“Harper, I’m not with anyone else.” I let out a snort. “How could I be in this town? With the gossip around here the way it is, I'd never get away with it.”
Her eyes flew wide. “Is that the only reason you don't cheat on me? The town is so small I’d hear about it?”
Crap. I was digging my own grave here. Still, again I had to wonder how, after all this time, she could doubt my love for her. My unfailing commitment to us.
I took a step closer and gripped both her arms. “No. Harper. Jesus. I love you. There’s only you in my life. There’s only been you since the day I first laid eyes on you at the farm stand. I swear to you.”
She folded her arms, creating a physical barrier between us. I hated it.
“That can’t be true. We didn’t get along at all the day we met at the farm stand.”
“Just because I thought you were an annoying city girl didn’t mean I wasn’t imagining kissing you.”
She raised her gaze to meet mine. I saw her soften, just a bit. “Really?”
“Really.” I nodded.
She fought the smallest of smiles, but I saw it through her tears. I reached out and brushed the dampness from her cheeks.
“Stone, if it’s not someone else, what is it? It feels like you’re hiding something.”
I drew in a breath. “I am. There is something I’ve been hiding from you, for a little while now.”
Harper drew in a breath. “Okay. Tell me.”
I could see her physically steel herself, as if she was about to receive a physical blow.
Falling apart one moment and tough as nails the next—that was my Harper. I only hoped she remained my Harper.
“I um . . .” I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m Anonymous.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand. You’re anonymous for what?” Her eyes widened. “Like in AA? Are you trying to stop drinking?”
“No. I’m the Anonymous.” When I could see she still wasn’t grasping it, I added, “Mister Naughty. From the Mudville forum. I’m the person behind the advice posts and comments. I’m the guy you hate.”
The crease between her eyes deepened. “You? But you loathe social media.”
“Yup.” I nodded. “I do.”
“So how . . .?”
“I heard people were posting stuff for sale on the forum and I wanted to s
ee if there was anything good. So I started logging in on the iPad you gave me. Then I saw some asshole posting something completely wrong about keeping chickens. I had to correct him, of course. Those poor birds were going to freeze if I didn't.” I let out a breath. “It was all downhill from there.”
She let out a breathy laugh. “Wow.”
“I’m so sorry. I never meant to step on your toes or steal your name. I never wanted any of it. It all just snowballed.”
When I moved closer and pulled her against me, she let me. I held her tighter and rested my head against hers. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“When you said how much you hated Anonymous, I was afraid. I thought you might dump me.”
She pulled back to frown up at me. “Seriously? You thought I’d break up with you over that? What kind of horrible person do you think I am that I would do that?”
“You’re not horrible at all. But you were really mad,” I said in my own defense. Not to mention she’d started killing off the male characters in her books.
“I would hope we were stronger than that. That we could withstand even me being angry.”
“I know. I was being a wimp.”
“No. You’re just a man. Conflict averse. Hiding from the drama.”
I let those insults against my sex pass without comment, particularly since there was more I hadn’t yet told her.
This was the part I was even more afraid to reveal, thereby proving I was all the things she’d accused my sex of being.
“There’s more,” I said and waited.
She stiffened in my arms, then pulled back just a bit.
I felt that small increase in the distance between us to my core.
Even though she had left her arms loosely around my waist, even though she was only a few inches farther away, it felt like we were suddenly miles apart.
“More?”
I hated seeing the wariness return to her. I cursed the day I ever stumbled onto that forum.
Swallowing hard, I said, “The newspaper contacted me.”
She waited. When I didn’t elaborate, she said, “Okay.”
“I said no.” I wanted that part known, nice and clear, right up front. “But they offered me a column.”
