Mr. Good Enough, page 17
The pit of Trent’s stomach dropped.
Billy scratched his head. “Wish you’da said something ’bout wanting to retire. Figure we coulda got somebody new in before now if we knew.”
“Wasn’t anybody up to the job, or they woulda said so by now.” The mayor nudged Trent. “Looks like that’s not so much a problem anymore.”
Trent cleared his throat. Ruby wouldn’t have—would she? “I, ah, think you might’ve heard wrong.”
Billy grinned proudly. “Don’t think so. I signed the petition myself a little bit ago to put you on the ballot. Wait till you get a load of Ruby’s new menu. You seen that yet?”
Apparently she would. “Not yet.”
“Ya know, I wasn’t so sure ’bout you when you waltzed back into town, but I think you gonna be real good for us.” Billy stuck out his hand. “Welcome back, Swish. I mean it. And it ain’t just ’cuz you’re spending lots of money here.”
Trent shook the older man’s hand while the mayor beamed at both of them. “Thanks, Billy.” He swallowed the bitter taste of helplessness and forced another smile. Maddie had warned him about playing by this town’s rules now. They were sucking him in.
Funny thing was, with both of the old guys grinning at him like that, he didn’t mind so much. He wouldn’t run for mayor, wasn’t sure he’d still be in town for the election, but he’d extricate himself later. After Simon or somebody else jumped into the race. That’d happen soon enough, but he’d done enough damage around here already. No need to squash their hopes so fast. Trent forced a smile. “Speaking of that money, I better get moving. Hear rain’s coming next week, and I got a roof to patch.”
“You bet.” Billy leaned over and grabbed a set of keys. “You pull on around back and we’ll getcha squared away.”
Trent doubted that. It was gonna take a lot more than a load of shingles and roofing nails to pull him out of this mess.
After he and Billy loaded up the truck, Trent drove around the block, found a parking spot a few shops down from Ruby’s, and headed inside to see Ruby’s menu for himself.
It was worse than he could’ve imagined. Didn’t help that the dinner crowd was starting to filter into the shop. A dozen local eyes gawked at him while he tried to make sense of the chalkboard.
Sarah Jo and a plump older woman he didn’t recognize came out of the kitchen. Sarah Jo’s eyes lit up. “Hi.” A pink flush came over her face, and she ducked her head to stare at the cash register. “You want a Sawyer Special?”
He swallowed hard. What he wanted was an antacid. “Sure. Ruby around?”
Her cheeks went past pink and into beet territory. “Not since this morning. When she—” Sarah Jo waved toward the menu.
When she decided to have some fun. Right. “Thanks. Can I get that to go?”
The older woman let out a disgusted snort and marched into the kitchen. He felt the stares of the rest of the patrons burning into his skull. This was probably the part where he was supposed to say something. Something along the lines of, “Sorry, folks, don’t know how this started, but I’m not running for mayor. I’ll find you somebody else soon.”
Sarah Jo smiled shyly up at him. “Sure, Mr. Sawyer. We’ve been waiting for someone like you. This is my first election. I can’t wait to vote for you.”
How was he supposed to crush those stars twinkling in her eyes? Simon needed to get his ass in this race fast. Before—
The door banged open with a clang of injured door bells and Hunter Galloway charged through. “You!”
Yeah. Before that.
Trent nodded. “Hunter.”
The Pudge looked like he’d grabbed a costume from a Dickens play before heading over: long gray overcoat, beet red face, Bible in one hand and his Coke-bottle glasses in the other while he wiped his forehead. “With God as my witness, ye shall not run unopposed.” He swept his arm toward the half a dozen people gawking at them. “Good people of Wendell Springs, join me as we take back our town from heathens and blasphemers.”
“You’ll have a choice,” Trent assured the three people who looked horrified.
The interest on the other three people’s faces though—a farmer, his wife, and a thirty-something woman who looked like an unemployed librarian—had Trent suppressing a shudder.
“What are you going to do about the park system?” One of Trent’s allies, a middle-aged farmer-type with thinning hair, asked.
“The Lord God founded this earth around a garden, and so shall there be gardens in Wendell Springs,” Galloway said.
Jesus Christ. Where was a real candidate when he was needed? “The goal is to make Wendell Springs a place people call home again,” Trent said. “If you’ve got suggestions, I want to hear them.” So he could pass them on to whoever Galloway’s competition turned out to be.
Despite Galloway’s blustering, Trent spent the next few minutes making mental notes on a dozen wants and needs the small group had for the town.
Finally Sarah Jo plopped a bag on the counter. She refused payment, insisting Ruby’d declared he needed good food to keep his strength up for the campaign.
He gave a wave to the townspeople. “Thanks, folks. You got any more suggestions, go ahead and leave them with Ruby. She’ll make sure the campaign hears about it.” It took some effort, but he nodded to Galloway too. “Good luck.”
“The Lord’s chosen people have no need of luck when they’re battling Satan and his followers.”
“The Lord also has no use for those who cast the first stone,” Sarah Jo said.
Trent glanced back and found her glaring at Hunter with fire in her eyes. “Don’t you worry about anything, Mr. Sawyer. The Lord chooses his mouthpiece, not the other way around.”
He almost chuckled. She might be mousy, but she had a mighty streak. “Thanks, Sarah Jo. But this is about the town, not the candidate.”
She flushed behind a smile. “Absolutely, Mr. Sawyer.”
With one last wave, Trent ducked his head and hustled to his truck. Safely inside, he pulled his phone out and dialed Ruby.
It rang once, and went straight to voice mail.
The evil kind of voice mail. This is Ruby. Vote for Trent. Leave a message.
Barging into her house was out of the question. Which meant there was only one other thing he wanted to do. Ruby had probably planned that too. Sly old fox.
He dialed the next number. Adrenaline strung his muscles taut as the phone rang. Despite crashing at her parents’ place for a couple of nights now, he hadn’t talked to Maddie since Monday. He’d figured the best thing he could do was leave her alone until he found the right way to apologize.
He missed her. The crazy hair, the ornery grins, the way she called him out when he tried to pull something over on her. He hadn’t realized how much he needed the friend she’d been.
Not to mention the carnal thoughts that kiss still inspired.
Hopefully she’d had a chance to cool down too, and they could work this out.
Maddie’s phone rolled to voice mail. The message included Gina’s number in case of a business problem. Nerves jangling his stomach, he gave her a quick call. She didn’t know where Maddie was either, and she said something about siccing her were-vampire on his nuts if he didn’t quit acting like an orc, which he took to mean she did know where Maddie was, but wasn’t inclined to tell him.
He put the truck in gear pointed it to her house. As he approached the corner, he saw a familiar face leaving the beauty shop, her mini-me in tow.
He would’ve rolled past, but after the scene in Ruby’s, he wasn’t keen on making another one by ignoring the blatant stop-I-want-to-talk-to-you wave. He pulled over and rolled down his passenger window.
“Hello, Trent,” she purred.
The sound made his balls shrivel. “Scilla.”
“Well, when you come back to town, you come back with a bang, don’t you?” She leaned into the truck, her little shadow pushing up on tiptoes to see as well. “If you ever want some advice, you know where to find me.”
“Mom knows lots about how to run this town,” Tiffy said. “She’d do it, too, but she has to take care of me.”
The innocence in the little girl’s face tugged at something inside him Trent didn’t recognize. His sympathy for Parker went up a notch. “I’d say she’s got the better end of the deal.”
Scilla’s expression wavered as her chest puffed a bit. “Well. I can see you’re going to do just fine as a politician.”
Shit. “Speaking of, you haven’t seen Maddie around, have you?”
Her lips curved into a smile that spelled danger better than any letters of the alphabet. “No.”
“Happen to know where she is?”
She tapped a talon against her cheek. “Joining the holier-than-thou crowd, are we?”
Trent pointedly cut his eyes toward the mini-Scilla peeking into the window of his truck. “Seems like a decent enough crowd to me.”
“Ida Mae said the MisterGoodEnough.com blog says Maddie has a date at Applebee’s tonight,” Tiffy piped up.
A date. Fantastic. She was out letting some loser buy her dinner. The thought of her kissing the bastard made him twitch. But he forced a smile at Tiffy anyway. “You must get really good grades with a memory like that.”
Scilla regarded him suspiciously. “Of course, but you know that Web site isn’t a proper subject for respectable young ladies.”
Said the woman who’d once offered him a blow job in exchange for being his date to prom. Turning that down had been the only decent thing he’d done his last month in high school.
Movement in his rearview mirror caught his eye. A commotion was breaking out on the sidewalk in front of Ruby’s place. Hunter Galloway was directing a couple of people with sandwich boards. Where had those come from? Trent squinted. Then muttered a curse to himself.
They were setting up to protest his campaign and promote Galloway’s.
His finger twitched, and he gave Scilla a brief nod. “It’s been fun, but looks like I need to get a move on. See you around.”
He hit the button to roll up the power window, then gave a wave at the ladies as they stepped back up onto the curb. A minute later, he turned the corner, leaving the protestors behind as he headed toward Maddie.
Chapter Fourteen
Apologies, apologies. What’s your favorite form?
Chocolates and flowers, the more expensive the better.
A simple “I’m sorry” goes a long way.
Nothing better than make-up sex.
I don’t accept apologies. Next candidate?
EVEN THOUGH it had been ten minutes since her phone buzzed with Trent’s call, Maddie’s skin still itched against the device. He was yesterday’s problem. Today’s date was today’s problem.
She thrust her chin up. Happy thoughts. She’d be optimistic if it killed her.
Maybe that sweaty feeling beneath her arms was just the budding hope that Mr. Hunky Hick would walk through the Applebee’s front door, smile at her, and her heart would pitter-patter from their instant connection. He’d be so madly in love with her by the end of the night that he’d offer to give her babies and pay her mortgage payment and sometimes wash dishes and always worship the ground she walked on. Yeah, that was happy.
It was also about as realistic as a pain-in-the-ass, former local basketball star—whose picture still hung in the Applebee’s entryway—offering her the same thing.
She pushed the lemon slice in her water to the bottom of the glass with her straw, then swirled it around. She should’ve been worrying that Mr. Potentially Good Enough Number Two was four minutes late. Didn’t anybody have standards for being on time anymore?
The door swung open. Maddie’s heart bounced. This could be Mr. Hunky Hick. This could be—Abel Doogan. Maddie slumped over her water. Great. Another date, if he ever showed up, and Abel would probably tell the whole town about it. There’d be special prayers for Maddie in every single church service Sunday morning. Lord, let us pray for poor, loveless Maddie Mason, who can’t snag a good enough date. Maybe they could pray for the longevity of her ovaries instead.
She should’ve felt worse about not giving Abel a straight answer after he tore apart her yard, but she couldn’t muster the guilt. She’d been too busy trying not to fall for Trent. Again.
Abel strolled past the hostess station. Instead of heading toward the bar, he made eye contact with her and grinned. A big, goofy, fancy-meeting-you-here grin.
Her biological clock thumped out the opening chords of “Dueling Banjos.”
Was Abel—no, surely not. He was the straightforward type. The knock-on-her-door and ask-her-out-for-cow-tipping sort. As far as Maddie knew, he and his mom didn’t even own a computer. When he was two tables away, the door opened again. Maddie craned her neck to look around Abel. A family of five walked through the door, not her Mr. Maybe Good Enough. Who was now five minutes late.
Abel slid into the booth across from her. She sat stunned for half a second, then forced a smile. “Abel. Sorry I haven’t called, but I’ve been a little busy. Work stuff. In fact, I’m here for a meeting.”
He spread his hands. “Mr. Hunky Hick, at your service.”
Oh, lordy, he was. And all dressed up in a clean shirt and his tight jeans too.
He chuckled. “Guess I’m good enough after all, huh, Maddie?” He leaned across the table. “How ’bout a kiss, sugar?”
MisterGoodEnough.com was more likely to be classified as a federal disaster zone than a haven for the luckless in love. “I, ah—”
His cheeks split into twin dimples. “Just yankin’ your chain. Betcha want dinner first.”
She wasn’t hungry. Wouldn’t have minded a margarita though. Not that alcohol was a good idea on any date with a guy she should’ve crossed off her potential husband list in third grade. A lack of chemistry was one thing. But despite Abel’s good heart, deep down, she didn’t respect him as much as she needed to if he were to father her children.
That made her feel about as slimy as she’d declared Joe was on Tuesday night. “Abel, you’re a nice guy, but I don’t think this is going to work.”
“Aw, c’mon now, Maddie, don’t give up so quick. We’re friends, ain’t we?”
She raised her eyebrows but curved her lips up. Maybe she could play it off without hurting his feelings too bad. “I dunno. You think a friend would’ve dug up my front yard and cut my cable?”
He flashed his dimples at her again. “Lots of paths to romance. Sometimes a fella’s gotta try more’n one before he gets it right.”
Forget the margarita. She’d take the tequila straight. Better to drown her guilt. “Abel, listen, you’re really sweet, but it’s not fair of me to pretend like I feel something I don’t. All I can offer is to be your friend. Maybe help you find the right woman, but that woman isn’t me.”
“But ain’t that what you’re looking for in your Mr. Good Enough? A guy you like good enough who’ll heat you up between the sheets, but don’t have to love?” He shrugged. “I can settle for that.”
He thought all this was so she didn’t have to love anybody? No wonder she’d become love enemy number one. “Now why would you do that? There’s a woman out there who’s absolutely perfect for you. Somebody who’ll get turned on when she sees you driving that big backhoe, who’ll want to wash the dirt off your back when you get home, and who’ll cook you the best bratwurst this side of the Mississippi every night for dinner. But, see, that’s not me, and that’s not fair to you. You can do a lot better than me. You really can.”
His jaw worked side to side. “Everybody only wants what’s best for you, Maddie. You’ve done lots of good for all of us, putting us on the Internet, helping find a new mayor, putting some color back in town. But if you’re just gonna settle, you need to be settling with somebody what’s gonna look out for your best interest. Somebody who won’t be leaving you with three screaming babies while he goes out and drinks every night. Somebody who ain’t gonna keep your babies away from you like Scilla done to Parker.”
She flinched. “Believe me, if I do any less than that, my brothers will kick his ass, and then mine for being dumb enough to get involved. I appreciate what you’re doing, Abel, but you need to move on.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He reached out and squeezed her hand as a ruddy blush covered his neck and stained his cheeks. “So you ain’t gonna be mad if I take a date with this girl over here in Shakerville? We matched pretty high, and I think she digs my backhoe.”
“Well.” Maddie cleared her throat. “Don’t let me stand in the way of true love.”
A blond head at the door caught her eye. Never mind on the tequila. She’d even pass on the vodka, if she could have an invisibility cloak instead. She tried to concentrate on Abel. If she pretended she hadn’t seen Trent, he wasn’t really there. That hiccup in her chest was nothing more than relief that Abel was moving on. Yep, that was it.
“—and she works for the sanitation department over here, so I know we got a lot in common,” Abel was saying. Maddie tried to pay attention, but she felt as though everyone in the whole room were staring at her, and the movement she was tracking wasn’t promising. Abel didn’t seem to notice her distraction. “Plus she don’t mind none that all those ladies from the Rosary Guild over at St. Martha’s is always offerin’ to make me casseroles so’s I don’t catch my mom’s stove on fire again.”
“She sounds wonderful,” Maddie murmured.
Before she could decide if she wanted to talk to him or not, Trent stood beside the table. He offered Abel an apologetic grin. “Sorry to interrupt. Need to talk to my campaign manager a minute.”
So today he was Mr. Charming, and she was his campaign manager. Explained the phone call. But seeing him happy and put together sparked her irritation. She plastered on a big fake smile and glared at him. “It can wait.”
