Page 4 of Sugar & Shadows

“Nate,” he said.

“Oh, so he’s the successful one? It’s nice your parents have one child they can be proud of,” I quipped.

His eyes narrowed, that kind mayor smile fading into a sneer. “Not quite. Sam graduated from West Point and is stationed in North Carolina. And Mabel’s in school in Pennsylvania.”

“Lovely, so you’re the only disappointment? Three out of four is pretty good.”

“Why are you here?” he asked, leaning in. “No one comes to Vermont in January unless they’ve hit rock bottom.”

I bristled, clenching my hands where they were hidden beneath my elbows. Fuck this guy.

For an instant, I considered fishing out my taser and taking him down in front of his beloved constituents. That would bring him down a peg or two.

But there was no way he could know. He hadn’t even recognized me, so I couldn’t imagine he’d been keeping tabs. While I may have looked a hell of a lot different from I had at seventeen, it would have been nice if he’d at least remembered my signature death glare.

I sat silently, making intense eye contact. A technique I’d mastered years ago. Worked every time. He was already filling the silence, giving me the upper hand.

“Which of your brooms did you ride back into town?” He smirked, clearly amused by his own wit.

“Left them all at home. Brought my G-Wagon instead,” I shot back. “I save the brooms for special occasions.”

“Human sacrifice?”

Matt returned with our drinks, his brows shooting up at that comment.

Gabe took a big sip of his beer and swallowed, then broke into a satisfied smile. “It’s delicious. Want a sip?” He held the glass out to me like he really thought I’d willingly put my lips anywhere near where his had been.

“No. Keep your gross beer. Maybe the bitterness will help you finally grow some facial hair.”

He huffed like he was offended. Please. That little dig was nothing.

“And whiskey is so sweet and delicious,” he sneered.

I held the glass up and examined the color. It wasn’t up to my usual standards, but it would do for now. “It’s not sweet. But whiskey is honest.” I closed my eyes and took a sip. “It’s not trying to be anything but what it is. When I sip whiskey, I’m acknowledging that I’m drowning my sorrows and avoiding my problems like James Fucking Joyce. It dignified and stylish.”

He scanned our surroundings, then leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You haven’t changed, have you? Still a ball-busting shrew who thinks she’s better than everyone.”

I bristled. “I’ve changed a lot, actually.” Though it was a challenge, I forced a smile. “I’m stronger and meaner, and I have significantly less tolerance for mediocre men.”

“I suppose twenty years in DC will do that to a person.”

“Compared to a life spent too afraid to leave the confines of one’s small town?” I clapped back. “I’m doing great.”

He shook his head and sipped his beer, looking entirely too comfortable for my liking. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. The kind of evil streak you possess is typically visible from space.”

“I know.” I raised my glass in a mock toast. “I do look amazing. Thank you.”

His mouth twitched. “Can’t argue with that. Drinking the blood of kittens to stay young?”

“Kitten blood is so last year.” Waving, I took another sip. “I’ve moved onto sucking the souls out of crappy small-town mayors.”

Matt appeared beside the table and set a plate in front of me with a flourish. “I’ve got Sugar Shack pork tacos for you.”

“Thank you.” I gave him a polite smile.

“This is slow braised pork shoulder,” he went on, “with a maple bourbon glaze, pickled red cabbage, apple fennel slaw, and a Vermont cheddar crema.”

“Looks great,” Gabe said with a forced smile.