Tiffany showed up at seven a.m. on the day of Jace’s fundraising barbecue with a set of two-way radios—one for her and one for Charlotte—and proceeded to bark orders like a drill sergeant to anyone who’d volunteered.
Charlotte noticed that the only one immune from being bossed around was Aubrey. No one dared to tell her what to do. Aubrey had a way of raising one imperial eyebrow that instantly put Tiffany in her place. Besides, she had turned their banal white wedding tent into a red, white, and blue extravaganza complete with balloons, pinwheels, and giant “Jace Dalton for Sheriff” posters. To remind everyone that Jace had deep roots in the community, she’d scattered a few pictures of his late grandfather around the tent.
Jasper Dalton was a legend in Mill County; even Charlotte the newcomer knew that.
“Here.” Tiffany pushed a ring into Charlotte’s hand. “You don’t have to say you’re engaged but at least wear it.”
Charlotte looked down at the emerald-cut diamond that set off a prism of color in the sunlight. “I hope this is fake.”
Tiffany didn’t say anything.
“Oh, for God’s sake. What if I lose it?”
“You won’t.”
“This is absolutely crazy,” Charlotte said because she was actually considering going through with this insane scheme if it would help Jace’s campaign.
“People adore a good love story. And while everyone’s talking about the gorgeous new woman in Jace’s life, they’ll forget about last year’s love triangle.”
“It wasn’t a triangle, Tiffany.” Charlotte nudged her head across the tent where Aubrey and Cash were exchanging what they thought was a private kiss. “If this town can’t figure that out, they deserve Jacob Jolly. Besides, a candidate shouldn’t lie to his constituents.”
“Jace isn’t lying. Come on, just put the damn thing on.” Tiffany took the ring and shoved it onto Charlotte’s wedding finger. “If anyone asks you about it be coy, say today’s about Jace’s bid for reelection.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Charlotte watched as Jace lined up a row of grills across the tent. “Does he know we’re doing this?”
“Of course not. Look, it’s just a ring. You’re entitled to wear anything you want. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“It just happens to be a diamond worn on my left hand.” Charlotte snorted as she walked away, feeling the weight of the gold band around her finger.
Five minutes later, she bumped into Sawyer on the way to the house to grab a few things Aubrey needed.
He tipped his hat and kept walking.
“Hang on a second,” she said, and he stopped. If she was going to pretend to be Jace’s fiancée she needed to consult with someone other than Tiffany. Sawyer was not only a journalist but according to Jace, his parents were blue-chip publicists who specialized in rescuing politicians, celebrities, and athletes from ruin. He’d know whether Tiffany’s political trick was a terrible idea.
She waved the diamond back and forth across his face. “Tiffany thinks I should wear this ring during the barbecue to give people the idea that Jace and I are engaged. She says I don’t have to lie and that it’s just a ring but that it’ll give people something to talk about other than the”—she paused for a second because she didn’t even know what to call it—“you know, the rumor. What do you think?”
He stood there for a few moments without saying anything. Initially, Charlotte thought he was angry. But on further reflection, she could tell he was weighing the pros and cons in his head.
“Don’t lie. And whatever you do, don’t tell Jace. He can’t be part of this.”
“So I should wear it?” She wasn’t sure what he was telling her to do.
“If anyone asks you about it, blow them off. Tell them it was your mother’s or some bullshit like that. They won’t believe you. Everyone will think the two of you are engaged. But if things go sideways, you’ll have cover. Seriously, Charlotte, this can’t look like a publicity stunt.”
“You don’t think Tiffany’s crazy, then?”
He let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, she’s crazy all right. But let’s just say this is one of her better ideas. Don’t tell Jace, though. He has to have plausible deniability.”
“Gotcha.” She couldn’t believe she was willing to be complicit in this farce. But to be Jace Dalton’s fiancée, even for a day, didn’t exactly suck.
Tiffany’s voice came across the two-way radio. “Aubrey is still waiting for those tablecloths. Chop chop.”
“I’m on it.” Charlotte tilted her head up to the sky and prayed for patience. “I suddenly feel like a wedding planner.”
Sawyer’s lips curved in amusement and he headed off to help Cash with the chairs.
“Hey.” Jace caught her around the waist and she instantly hid her left hand in the folds of her coat. “What were you and Sawyer talking about?”
“How bossy Tiffany is.” The lie slid off her tongue and she felt a moment of guilt but reminded herself that the end justified the means.
“That it?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking on his feet.
“We talked about you and how the barbecue was going to be a great success.”
He quirked a brow. “Doesn’t sound like Sawyer.”
“Well, that’s what we talked about.” She reached up and tugged down the brim of his hat. “Looking good, Sheriff.”
He might’ve blushed—Charlotte couldn’t say for sure—but he definitely grinned and Charlotte felt that grin all the way down to her toes.
“If I don’t get the tablecloths from the house, Tiffany will fire me.”
Jace hooked his thumbs in his silver belt buckle and gave her a long, thorough once-over. “Maybe I’ll come with you.”
“Oh no, you don’t. People will be here soon.” She waved at the tent. “Time to mingle, big guy.”
“What if I don’t want to mingle?”
She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled his face down so they were eye to eye. “You’re supposed to be social at these campaign functions, Jace. That’s the whole point. We’re in it to win it.”
“Where the hell did you come up with that—cheerleading practice?” His mouth quirked.
“Now you’re just being ornery. Go kiss some babies, Jace.” She jogged up the stairs to the porch, turned her head to find him watching her with that same silly grin on his lips, and she got those flutters again.
* * * *
Jace didn’t want to kiss babies, he wanted to kiss Charlie. As often as she’d let him.
He walked toward the tent with a little more punch in his giddyup, even though he looked forward to this barbecue about as much as he did to getting typhoid fever. Charlie did that to him. She made him happy and steady and able to believe in love again. And he wanted to make her proud.
We’re in it to win it.
He chuckled to himself and strode into the tent ready to take on Mill County.
Folks started pouring in around noon. Tiffany had wanted people to pay a hundred dollars a plate. But Jace had quickly nixed that idea.
“This ain’t the French Laundry, Tiff. Dalton burgers are good but not a hundred-bucks good.”
“They’re not paying for the food,” she’d argued. “They’re paying to support the candidate.”
“They can support me at the ballot box.”
They’d settled on forty dollars a head, kids ate free. From the look of the crowd, forty bucks had been the sweet spot. Jace didn’t take it for granted that everyone who’d come was here to support his bid for reelection. The good people of the county were always up for a party and Dry Creek Ranch was pretty damned hospitable.
Laney and Jimmy Ray waved as they got a couple of beers from the bar. Sam Gilletti, owner of Ale Yeah!, had volunteered to bring the kegs and run the taps. The Klines had come with Tina, which made Travis happy.
“Nice shindig.” Randy Beals slapped Jace on the back.
“How you doing, Randy? How’s things at the ranch?” Jace felt a wave of guilt for not having checked in with his neighbor. There never seemed to be enough hours in the day.
“Same old, same old.” Randy frowned.
“You talk to someone about debt consolidation?”
Randy huffed out a breath. “What’s the point, unless they can whittle my debt down to zero. Anything more than that, I ain’t got.”
Jace took a second or two to let that sink in. “What are you planning to do?”
“Sell before the bank takes it away, I reckon. I was gonna come over and talk to you boys about it, give you first crack at buying.”
Jace’s chest tightened. “Ah, Randy, I’m sorry. I wish more than anything there was a way you could turn this around.”
“What about you boys? Can we work something out?”
Jace motioned for Randy to follow him away from the crowd and said, “We can’t even cobble together the back taxes. No way do we have that kind of cash.” Or credit. No bank would lend them the kind of money Beals Ranch was worth.
“I didn’t think so.” Randy lowered his head. “But your granddaddy meant the world to me and handing my land over to a Dalton would’ve taken some of the sting out of it.”
Jace nodded. “I’m sorry, Randy. I wish there was something we could all do.”
“Aw, hell, maybe it’ll be nice not to have to work so hard. Marge wants to get a Winnebago, travel a little.” Randy swung his arm over Jace’s shoulder. “In the meantime, you’ve got my vote, son. Now I’m gonna get me one of those inferior burgers you’re peddling and a beer.”
The conversation had left Jace low, but he decided to wait until after the barbecue to tell Cash and Sawyer. No sense ruining the afternoon when everyone had worked so hard on his behalf.
“Who was that?” Charlie sidled up next to him.
“The neighbor from Beals Ranch I told you about.” He gazed around the tent. “How do you think it’s going so far?”
“Excellent, don’t you?”
“I’m happy with it.” He couldn’t help himself and kissed the top of her head.
She smiled up him and straightened his collar. “Don’t just talk to people you know.”
“And you thought Tiffany was bossy?”
As if he’d conjured her with his little quip, Tiffany appeared at his right elbow. “I have some people I want you to meet.” Before he could respond, she dragged him away.
She pushed him into Lionel Fisher, who owned a cement processing plant in Rock Bottom, an unincorporated area on the edge of Mill County, which had a population of less than five hundred. Fisher was a generous benefactor in the area and had built a couple of small parks with money out of his own pocket. Needless to say, his backing would go a long way.
“Nice barbecue.” Fisher tipped his cowboy hat instead of shaking Jace’s hand, old-school style.
“Thanks. Glad you could make it.” Jace looked around Fisher. “You bring Barbara and the kids?”
“Nah, she’s the 4-H horse leader in Rock Bottom and is up at that retreat at the Nevada City fairgrounds today. The kids’ Saturdays are pretty packed. So it’s just me. Came to hear what you have to say.”
“I’m just looking for your vote, Lionel. It’s as simple as that.” Tiffany discreetly kicked him in the ankle, urging him to do the whole damn stump speech. “I’ve been a good sheriff,” he continued, uncomfortable bragging about himself. But that’s what Tiffany wanted him to do and on this score she was right. No one was going to toot his own horn for him. “I have more than a decade of law enforcement experience, including making detective on a midsize city’s force. I believe…correct that…I know Mill County has been a safer place since I was elected sheriff.”
“We had that biker murder two years ago and there’s been an uptick in property crimes.” Fisher was reading straight off of Jacob Jolly’s talking points.
“Yep. We arrested two people in that biker case days after the murder. Both were convicted and got life in prison without the possibility of parole. I’d say that was a job well done. As far as the uptick in property crimes, that started before I took office. Take another look at those numbers, Lionel. You’ll like what you see.”
“You’ve done a good job, Jace. And I don’t pay a lot of attention to rumors or sex scandals. But Jacob Jolly is offering a fresh perspective that I think will shake up the status quo.”
Jace couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not arguing with you as far as shaking up the status quo, if you mean getting a guy in here with absolutely no law enforcement background. He runs a hardware store with two employees. I run a county department with a seven-figure budget and a staff of thirty. It’s thirty because the first thing I did when I was elected was make good on my campaign promise to add ten more deputies to the department. Jacob Jolly is a great guy if you need a wrench. As the top cop in Mill County, not so much. I’d also be concerned that much of his contributions are coming from one special interest group and how beholden he might be to them in the future. I don’t have half his war chest, Lionel.” Jace made a point of drawing Fisher’s attention to the crowd. “But every dime I’ve collected is from my constituents, not folks who live outside the county.”
“All good points, Sheriff. All points I’ll take into consideration when I go to the ballot box. Your grandfather was a good man and I think you’re a good man. I also think Jolly’s a good man.”
“Fair enough,” Jace said. “Get yourself a burger, Lionel, and I’ll catch up with you later.”
He walked away not feeling particularly optimistic about having won Fisher over. Tiffany chased after him.
“See, that wasn’t so hard.” She pulled him behind the bandstand, where a local bluegrass group was entertaining the crowd. “You were magnificent, by the way!”
“He’s voting for Jolly.”
“He was before you made your spiel. Now he’s on the fence and I have the utmost faith he’ll come around by the June primary.”
“We’ll see.” Jace wasn’t as convinced.
“Notice that the sex scandal came up again. I told you we had to mitigate that problem.”
It was all Jace could do not to blow a loud raspberry. “I can’t control ridiculous rumors. All people have to do is look at Aubrey and Cash to know that Mitch’s story was bullshit.”
“Jill’s here, by the way.”
“I saw her old man earlier. She’s a neighbor, a constituent, what can I do?”
“Nothing.” Tiffany gazed around the tent. The crowd had spilled out onto the lawn and everyone seemed to be enjoying the event. “We want her vote, Jace.”
Jace didn’t give a rat’s ass about Jill’s vote. As far as he was concerned she should be in jail, but Randy Beals had enough problems without having to visit his daughter behind a Plexiglas window. In the corner, near the bar, he spied Brett in his wheelchair and decided that whatever happened with the election didn’t compare to having good friends. Great friends.
“Tiff, I see someone I want to talk to. Let’s reconnoiter later.” He squeezed through the crowd, shaking hands as he went.
“Hey, it’s the man of the hour.” Brett high-fived him.
“You came.”
Brett threw his hands up in the air. “Of course I came. For you, bruh. And last I looked Sacramento was only an hour away and I’m still registered in Mill County, my friend.”
“I heard you were voting for Jolly.”
Brett flipped him the bird. “Jill’s here along with the kids.”
Jace nodded. “Anything new going on there?”
“She wants us to get back together.”
“And?”
Brett shrugged. “I’m not ready yet. Fact is, I don’t know if I can let what she did go, Jace. For the sake of the kids, I want to forgive and forget. But…shit.”
“I hear ya.” The whole damn affair was so freaking sad, Jace had trouble wrapping his head around it. Brett had given so much…to his country…to his community. Jill had been in love with him since she was a teenager. And then Brett came back from the war a paraplegic and in the blink of an eye everything changed.
“I’d like to meet this babysitter you’ve been telling me about.” Brett smirked. “Where is she?”
“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Guests cleared a path so Brett could get through in his chair, and Jace led him to the other side of the tent where Charlie and Aubrey had managed to make time for a burger.
“Look who I found crashing the party,” Jace said.
“Brett!” Aubrey hopped in his lap and threw her arms around his neck.
Brett did a couple of spins in his wheelchair. “When’s the big day? ʼCause I might steal you away.”
“My fiancé will likely have something to say about that,” Aubrey said. “June. You’re coming, right?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Aubrey scooted out of Brett’s lap and he extended his hand. “Charlie, I presume.”
Jace made formal introductions, then got pulled away again by Tiffany. Charlie, Brett, and Aubrey stayed behind, talking. There was a photographer from the local paper milling around, taking pictures. Jace had seen him before at a couple of crime scenes and gave him a big hello.
“How’d you get stuck with this assignment?” The kid probably preferred real action, not a stuffy campaign function.
“It’s not so bad spending the day on an awesome ranch.” The photographer smiled. “Can I get a shot of you standing next to one of your campaign posters?”
“How ʼbout I flip you a burger, instead?” Tiffany perked up at the suggestion, probably liking the folksy appeal of the sheriff standing over a barbecue.
“That would be awesome.” The photographer got his camera ready, clearly jazzed about the photo op.
But Tiffany’s smile faded as soon as Jace slipped a “Mr. Good Lookin’ is Cookin” apron over his head and she stared daggers at him. Apparently, it wasn’t the image she was going for.
The apron had been a gift from Aubrey and it’s what he wore when he did all his backyard grilling.
Just keeping it real, Tiff.
The photographer ate it up, though. “Turn a little to the left so I can get the apron.” Click, click, click.
“How do you like your beef?”
“Medium rare.” The camera man kept shooting pictures.
“A man after my own heart.” A burger should never have an internal temperature of more than 145 degrees as far as Jace was concerned. He slapped a slice of cheese on top of the patty, waited for it to melt, and served it up with a toasted bun. “Here you go. Take a load off and grab yourself a beer.”
Jace took off the apron, much to Tiffany’s relief, and she led him off to another Jolly supporter, who’d probably come to the barbecue on a reconnaissance mission for Jace’s opponent.
Whatever. Forty bucks was forty bucks, regardless. And by the end of the event, schmoozing everyone old enough to vote, he had more than earned every cent they brought in and then some.