Page 68 of Sundown Somewhere

Not to mention, my forest replant plan is already pretty aggressive. I’m willing to gamble much more so than some of the other big names in the game. Likely why he’s asking me, because he knows that others will not only balk, but push back. Because they are only putting together a sustainability plan because they have to. Caving under the pressure from the protests, trying not to be the next one boycotted over their business practices. Or well, lack thereof.

I close out of the email, pretending that I didn’t see it. I’ll reply once I figure out a nice way to tell James that he can ask the others to up their commitments. That might be something that requires Willa’s help actually. She can wordsmith something for me.

Besides, right now, I need to focus. This playground isn’t going to relocate itself.

Bzzzzzzz…

My phone vibrates against the desk, the sound just annoying enough that it’s impossible to ignore. Reaching over, I go to silence it. At least until I see the name. Landon Noble.

“Landon,” I answer, trying to tamp down the worry that is climbing up my chest.

Outside of my brothers and Dolly, Landon is probably the person on this earth I’m closest to. The third of four boys—who are affectionately referred to around town as “the boy cousins,” since they are the sons of Rod Noble, whose brother, Ken, the town mechanic only has two daughters, Kenzie and Moira—we share an understanding of being the middle child, although Landon’s quiet and reserved personality is the opposite of my rough around the edges one.

More importantly at this moment, Landon is Hickory Hills’s assistant fire chief and EMT. And I’m pretty sure he’s on shift right now. So if he’s calling me in the middle of shift, something could be really wrong. Really, really fucking wrong.

Dolly…Miss Belle…shit…

“Hey,” he greets, sounding relaxed. Not that it’s doing much to help me right now. “First off, breathe, not why I’m calling.”

Oh, thank heavens…

“Fuck. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I heard you stop breathing there. Anyway, you alone?”

Errr…what?

I look around, more out of curiosity than anything else. Because I’m not really sure how to answer that. Should I be worried about what comes next? Am I being Punk’d?

“I am. But…you’re not going to ask me to get naked and do dirty, dirty things for you, are you, Landon?”

“Wasn’t my plan,” he retorts. “You’re not really my type.”

“You’re not mine either.”

I prefer mine blonder, sweeter, and with something to hold on to…

“Well, now that we have that settled, you didn’t hear this from me.” He lowers his voice, as if he were about to share state secrets. Or worse, he was about to share his mama’s secret recipe and she was in earshot. “But I just came from the butcher shop, and Z told me that Dad let it slip who the holdout on your vote was.”

My heart stops.

Hickory Hills’s nine-person town council has six full-time members—the mayor, the town clerk, town treasurer, police chief, fire chief, and the school superintendent. Plus three members at-large from the community. One of whom is Rod Noble, local cattle rancher. Right along with Jack Keller and Ellen Potter, the retired French teacher from the high school.

Rod’s son Zachary, Z for short, runs the family’s butcher shop that is next to Oh, My Lard! The butcher shop solidly ranks in the top five for gossip hot spots. Although to hear that Rod is the one doing the gossiping is a little surprising.

Still, I’ll take it.

“Seriously?”

“I don’t know the details of the conversation, just that there was only the one holdout.”

I nod, not that Landon can see me. That part I knew. Auggie had shared that much with us. Long-standing town laws state that the ruling of the vote along with the vote count is public information, but that what was discussed and which council members voted in favor or against is considered confidential. Meaning I’m allowed to know that I lost eight to one, and that it’s because the one thought it wasn’t a good use of town funds, but I’m not allowed to know who that one is.

But this is a small town. And nothing stays secret for long.

“Who?” I ask, my heart jackhammering against my ribs, threatening to break them into a million pieces.

Part of me is afraid to know. I’ve known each one of these council members my whole life and can’t imagine who would vote against this. At the same time, I’m dying to know who I need to hunt down.