“Ah, actually…” Mayor Wilkins took an empty chair next to Nellie, and the two women shared a meaningful glance. Only, Sadie had no idea what the meaning was.
“Is something wrong with my application?” she asked. “Was it approved?”
“It was,” Linda May said quickly. “We would have loved to have you on the slate, but…”
“But what?” Sadie and Connor asked the question in perfect unison, which did a little to erase her sudden feeling of being very much alone and on the outs in this room.
“Now, listen,” Mayor Wilkins said, her voice tight and her cheeks flushed, “let’s calmly tell Connor and Sadie what’s going on.”
“Then do so, Blanche,” Mitch said to her impatiently. “I have another meeting shortly.”
With a sigh, the mayor tapped the table with her fingers. “The Election Committee meeting is officially called to order.”
With her chest growing tighter with each passing moment, Sadie glanced at Connor, sitting to her right. His gaze was moving around the table, his jaw clenched, his shoulders tense. He didn’t like this any more than she did, that much was obvious.
“I’ll take it from here,” Gavin said from the other side of the table. “Ladies and gentlemen, as some of you know, the Election Committee has been in conversation all morning with Mr. Easterbrook, and that’s why we’ve called in our town librarian, Nellie, to verify the fact that…”
At the dramatic pause, Ricardo Mancini barely concealed his eye roll and a huffed breath, and Linda May bit her lip and stared at her blank notebook, visibly swallowing whatever it was she wanted to say.
“Oh, for God’s sake, just say it,” Mitch demanded. “You can’t run. Neither one of you. You’re both out of the race.”
“What?” Once again, they spoke in the same tone and with the same incredulity.
Mitch just looked at Gavin and nodded. “Tell them.”
Gavin cleared his throat, shuffled some papers, then adjusted his horn-rims. “I have in front of me a copy of the original founding charter, penned by Captain Thaddeus Ambrose Bushrod on October 22, 1867, after he claimed the settlement of Bitter Bark, North Carolina, as a village to be governed under him. In it, he states the requirements of any man who would, I’m quoting now, ‘henceforth hold the title of governor.’” Gavin looked up. “Which, in case you don’t know, was officially amended to include ‘mayor’ by Thaddeus Bushrod’s son in 1902, with the express stipulation that all other requirements for the governorship would hold for the mayor.”
Connor slowly leaned forward and directed his gaze to Gavin. “And your point is?”
“His point is that old Thad had a different vision in mind for mayor than you, your dog, or this girl.” Mitch still didn’t look at her, but Sadie felt Connor bristle.
“She’s actually a grown woman,” he said to Mitch.
Sadie let out a little sigh. “Thank you,” she said under her breath.
Mitch flicked his fingers at Gavin. “Of course. Keep going.”
Sadie sat straighter as slow rage marched through her whole body. Next to her, she could practically feel the same thing happening to Connor.
“The bylaws and requirements to hold the office are numerous, and they do include a required thirty signatures from ‘well-respected citizens of the town,’” Gavin said.
“That’s it?” Sadie leaned forward. “I need to get thirty signatures?”
Connor nodded. “You do, and I’ll help you get them,” he said.
Her heart flipped at the concession and the sudden shift the room had taken from “us against each other” to “us against them.”
“There’s more,” Gavin said. “In addition to the signatures, each candidate must meet personal requirements that ensure they are reputable individuals who honor God and family.”
“Is this about the dog?” Connor asked. “Because I sat in this room with you, and everyone there agreed, voted, and passed the ordinance—”
“Statute,” Mayor Wilkins corrected.
“Whatever. You all agreed that Frank would be a ceremonial mayor for publicity and town morale and that I would act as his chief of staff. In that role, I, not Frank, needed to meet the legal requirements of any mayoral candidate, which I do. If needed, I can have an additional thirty signatures by noon. Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” Gavin said. “I’m not done reading.”
Connor waved his hand in that direction. “By all means, let’s hear about the rules and regs from two hundred years ago.”
“One hundred and fifty-three,” Mitch corrected. “And if proven governing documents are good enough for our country, then they are good enough for Bitter Bark. Gavin? Read section four, article two, please.”
He took a breath and looked back at the paper in front of him. “Section four deals with the reputation, moral aptitude, and community standing. Article one states that the candidates will be members in good standing of a church.”
“Old school, but fine,” Connor said. “I was baptized and confirmed at St. Gabriel’s.” He turned to Sadie. “You?”
“My family went to First Baptist, steps from the front door of the building we’re in.”
“And,” Gavin continued as if they hadn’t spoken, “they will be members of ‘local families of good repute.’”
Connor leaned back with a huffed breath. “Mine takes up half the town, and our reputation is rock-solid,” he said. “And Sadie’s grandparents are well known and respected.”
Oh God. Oh God. Was Mitch going to throw her parents’ divorce on the table? A divorce he caused by sleeping with my mother?
She held her breath as Gavin leaned forward, his gaze moving around the table as he lifted the paper with a slow intake of breath. “Article two states that ‘any candidate must be married, widowed, or betrothed at the time of the election.’”
For a moment, no one said a word.
“Excuse me?” Sadie barely whispered the question.
“You heard him,” Mitch said. “Married, widowed, or betrothed.”
She choked a disbelieving laugh, relieved that the ugly past hadn’t been brought into it. “Well, can’t you change that? I have to believe a simple vote from the town council to add a codicil that is in keeping with twenty-first-century social norms shouldn’t be that difficult.”
“No.” Nellie, the librarian, swallowed as the room turned its attention to her. “No codicils can be added to Captain Bushrod’s town charter. The bylaws and constitution, yes. But not Captain Bushrod’s personal charter. It was in his will that it can never be amended except by a blood relative and there are none left.”
“But this document is a hundred and fifty years old,” Sadie insisted. “I mean, I’m surprised a woman can even run under those constraints.”
“There’s nothing about gender,” Nellie said. “But the charter is truly etched in stone.”
“Literally,” Sadie grumbled. “During the actual Stone Age.”
Nellie gave a conceding tip of her head. “For the most part, it’s sound and holds up to today’s laws. But the charter was signed by the first town board of governors and has been upheld since that day. We have never had a mayor who wasn’t married or, in Blanche’s case, widowed.”
“And since neither one of you are…” Mitch’s mouth turned down as his shoulder went up. “You cannot be on the ballot.”
Fury snapped at Sadie. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, and trust me, I’ve heard a lot in politics. What’s it going to take to get this changed?”
“It can’t be,” Mayor Wilkins said.
“Even if we put it to the citizens? There must be some way to amend the charter by a public vote.” Sadie looked from one face to the next, all blank, disappointed, or, in Mitch’s case, smug.
All but Connor, who was silent, looking down at the table.
“Are you going to just sit there and accept this?” Sadie asked.
Very slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, h
is blue eyes as serious as she’d ever seen them. “Could I talk to you outside for a moment?”
He was dropping out of the race. Seriously? He didn’t have the backbone to flatten the very first roadblock? She’d expected so much more from him, but maybe if it couldn’t be solved with a disarming smile or a cute dog, then he’d quit.
Disappointment seeped into her veins. She didn’t want Connor to be a quitter. In fact, his tenacity was one of the most attractive things about him. Oh well. Wasn’t the first time she misjudged a man.
“Sure,” she said, pushing her chair back.
He surprised her by taking her hand as she rose, his fingers warm and strong.
“Nellie.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. “Give Frank as many of these as he needs if he gets upset. We’ll be right back.”
Sadie gave him a confused look, but let him lead her out, closing the door behind them.
“Connor, I—”
“Shhh. I have to ask you an important question.” He glanced into offices as they passed, each occupied. “Somewhere private.”
They reached a steel door at the end of the hallway, a square window showing it led to the dimly lit stairwell. He pushed the door open and guided her into the chilly area.
“What is it?” she asked. “Why are you out here instead of fighting those ridiculous, insane, stupid—”
His mouth came down on hers, stealing her breath and words, stunning her, and jolting her whole body with the electrical charge when their lips made contact.
“What…” She pushed him back, gasping for air. “What in God’s name are you doing?”
“I thought we should kiss.”
“Now?”
“At least once before we get engaged. Will you marry me, Sadie Hartman?”
Chapter Eight
The thing Connor liked about Sadie, besides pretty much everything, was how easy it was to know what she was thinking just by watching her expression change. And this was like taking in a feature film.
As his words hit, her wide eyes blinked with astonishment, then dismay, and then utter disbelief. Her delicate jaw dropped a bit as she realized he wasn’t actually kidding, then her pretty lips formed an O as his brilliant logic registered. And then, very slowly, delicious dimples deepened with a smile, and she dropped her head back with a hearty laugh.
“I totally underestimated you, Mahoney.”
“Is that a yes?”
The laughter faded as she drew back, sliding out of his arms, staring at him.
“Good idea, huh?”
“Good?” She put her hand on her chest as if she had to catch her breath. “Uh, ridiculous, but A for creativity. That’s some…thought process you’ve got going on in there.”
“Honestly, it wasn’t me. Something my cousin Pru said yesterday gave me the idea.” What had she called the trope? Fake fiancée? “But it’s a brilliant solution, and you know it. It’ll shut Easterbrook down and shut him up, which is all I ever want to do to that scumbag.”
“He is a scumbag,” she muttered, making him happy she could see that, too.
“So, say you’ll be my fiancée and stick his article two where the sun…shut him up for good.”
“Not gonna lie, as political campaign strategies go in the face of absurd two-hundred-year-old small-town laws? It’s genius, but…” She drew a little bit farther back. “You can’t think for one minute that we could pull that off with any credibility.”
What he liked, all the way down to his toes, what that she didn’t dismiss the idea out of hand. “Why not?”
“Uh, because it’s a lie?”
“So make it a truth.”
“Connor.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “It’s preposterous.”
“No more than a dog running for mayor.”
“Which, if you have your way, means I’d be engaged to your dog.”
“You could do worse,” he joked. “Come on, Sadie. Hear me out. They don’t know what our relationship is. You could have come back to Bitter Bark because we’ve been carrying on a torrid long-distance romance and finally want to live in the same town.”
“Torrid?”
“I don’t do tepid.”
She put her hands on his chest as if she wanted to push him away, but left them there for a second, looking up at him. “I can’t lie. It goes against everything I stand for.”
“You want Easterbrook as mayor?”
She shut her eyes as if the very idea sliced her.
“Talk about not having principles,” Connor said with a scoffing laugh. “That man’s never met a principle in his life he hasn’t violated every day of the week and twice on Sunday.” He shook his head. “Obviously, you can see the guy’s a bona fide asshole.”
“That’s being kind.”
“Right? And trust me…he’s even worse than you know,” Connor ground out, forcing himself to say no more. He had no right to reveal things he knew as an EMT who’d been called to that bastard’s house when a woman had damn near overdosed on a mix of alcohol and antidepressants. Mitch had tried to pass her off as a family friend—who apparently slept in the master bedroom while Mrs. Easterbrook was conveniently getting her eyes done at some spa in the Caribbean.
No, he wouldn’t share that, but anyone who’d ever had to use Easterbrook Funeral Home came away with lighter pockets and a heavier heart. “He can’t win, Sadie.”
“I know,” she said, gnawing on her lip. “That’s the whole reason…” She swallowed. “No, he cannot win. I agree. One of us has to run and beat him.”
“Exactly. And with this rule, neither of us can run, and no one will have the nerve, or even the time now, to launch a campaign against him. I’m gonna be straight with you, Sadie. I want to win. I do. I love the idea of being mayor, but I’d risk losing to you if it means keeping him from having that much power in Bitter Bark. And with two of us on the ballot, he has an even smaller chance of winning. So let’s get engaged.”
She gave a little shiver at the words. “What happens…after the election?”
“Gavin said the candidate has to be married, widowed, or betrothed at the time of the election. Nothing about an amicable breakup a few days or weeks later.”
“‘The candidate’ meaning Frank?” she asked. “You still want to use him as a gimmick?”
He took a breath, thinking hard about it, weighing Frank in the whole mix. “You know, the dog is a gimmick, I’ll give you that, but I believe in him. Bitter Bark grew exponentially the year we were Better Bark, and turning this place into a dog haven was a very smart move. I think people know that and love the idea. I’m betting on him to do great things for this town.”
“If you win.”
“I can’t win if I can’t run, and neither can you. Unless you have another fiancé you can pull out of your hat in the next five minutes. If not, say yes to my proposal.”
She stared at him, still, thinking. “I really despise unethical behavior in politics.”
“I just asked you to marry me. Who’s to say that’s ‘a lie’? It’s a question, answer, and a…state of our relationship.”
“Relationship?” She gave him a dubious look. “We barely know each other.”
“Insta-love.”
“Excuse me?”
“Another one of my little cousin’s great ideas. Come on, Sadie. We don’t have much time before they rubber-stamp that jerk right into the mayor’s office.”
Her eyes narrowed. “We can’t let that happen,” she agreed. “But this is so fraught with crater-sized holes.”
“Tell me one and watch me fill it.”
“How about that we’ve failed to mention this to anyone?”
He shrugged. “Keeping it quiet. Lots of people do. Next?”
“What about the God knows how many women you’ve dated in the last few months while we’re supposedly having this torrid-not-tepid long-distance romance? It makes you look like…a cheater.”
“I’m not and never have b
een. Not to mention, I haven’t had a date in more than a month. Frank’s the only company I’ve had in bed for quite some time. Anything else?” He searched her face, seeing the torture as more questions formed, and he suddenly guessed one that he didn’t like at all, but had to ask. “Do you have a boyfriend back in DC?”
“Not anymore,” she said. “But I haven’t been single very long, and plenty of people in Washington know that.”
“But you are now.” He had to be certain of that before he took this any further.
“I am.”
“Then does the word whirlwind mean anything to you?”
“With the town’s most infamous love-’em-and-leave-’em guy?”
“That’s just folklore and a reputation I let grow because it’s funny. Look, have I been in a long-term relationship? No, I don’t do them, true. But who’s to say that if the perfect woman waltzed into my life…”
“Perfect?” she snorted softly.
He touched her cheek, grazing his knuckles along her jaw, making her eyes shutter. “Damn close, Ear Girl.”
Fighting a smile at that, she studied him again, her features softening to a new expression, one that gave him real hope. She was seriously considering this.
“Won’t people think it’s weird that we’re engaged and running against each other?” she asked. “What couple does that?”
“The couple that wants to win,” he replied. “We tell them that this way, one of us is sure to be mayor, and the other will support him or her completely. It’s a fantastic hook. The media will eat it up. In fact, this idea will steal all the spotlight from Mitch, and we’ll campaign on our own platforms. No animosity, no arguing, no dirt. Just a clean campaign that’ll make people want to vote for Frank—”
“Or me.”
He smiled. “But not Eastercrook.”
She huffed out a breath. “God, I hate him.”
“That didn’t take long.”
“I…we…knew him before.”
Of course, she had lived here long enough to know the guy’s rep, and he could tell by the surrender in her voice and softness in her shoulders that she was coming around to his idea.
Chasing Tail Page 9
