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India squeezed her hand. Her sister was right. The best plan of action: avoid Brody at all costs. That way she wouldn’t have to worry about how he made her react or feel or ache. Or what it would be like for Brody to be more than a friend.
* * *
BRODY LINGERED INSIDE the front door of the Fire Gorge Lodge, his hat in his hands, assessing the packed entry hall of the lavish dude ranch. After parking among a sea of custom pickups, BMWs, Mercedes, Audis and the occasional work truck, he knew the key players from the surrounding counties were here, too. But seeing them here in all their finery was a daunting site.
As was the towering image of Woodrow Boone standing at the top of the stairs. He was talking to someone, the smile on his face forced and brittle, and he looked ready to run. A feeling Brody understood but had to ignore if he was going to take his run for mayor seriously. And he was. He hadn’t expected the turnout at the library, or his supporters’ enthusiasm and willingness to do whatever needed doing. It was just the reaffirmation he needed.
Woodrow Boone’s steely gaze locked with his. Hostility rolled off the older man, the tightening of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils and the white-knuckled grip of his hand on the banister. He looked ready to stomp down the stairs and tear into him. But he hesitated, spun on
his heel and disappeared from the upstairs landing.
When Brody was joined by Scarlett and Miss Francis, he didn’t know. But Scarlett’s soft voice pulled him back to the present.
“Hey, Brody, glad you made it,” Scarlett said.
“And found parking,” Miss Francis added. “We’re all packed in like sardines.”
“Means no one is leaving,” Brody said, putting on his best smile. “A captive audience. Might be useful if everyone’s set against revitalizing the Monarch Festival.”
“It’s a mixed reaction,” Scarlett said. “But I think a firm nudge in the right direction—”
“A couple of your megawatt, charming smiles can’t hurt.” Miss Francis nudged him in the side.
Scarlett giggled. “Well, I don’t think it will take much to remind them how important the festival is to the community.”
“Surely local businesses have seen it affect their bottom line?” Brody asked.
“It’s been two years.” Miss Francis shook her head. “It’ll take more than that before they start to feel it in their pocketbook.”
“And by then the tradition of the festival will be a memory.” Brody sighed.
“That’s why you’re here,” Scarlett said, smiling.
“That, and making your father see red.” He glanced at the landing, but there was no sign of Mr. Woodrow Boone.
“Already?” Scarlett asked.
“Hey, Brody.” Cal ran up, all smiles and childhood enthusiasm. “Like your boots. Got some new ones myself.” He held up his foot, tugging up his jeans so Brody could inspect them.
His only choice was dropping to a knee to do just that. “Soft leather. Good fit. And the tooling—nice details.”
Cal nodded. “Got ’em this morning.”
“I approve,” he said, tugging Cal’s pants leg down before standing and patting the boy’s shoulder. And coming face-to-face with India. Her smile was so sweet it made his chest ache.
“Hi. You’re here,” she murmured, her gaze darting nervously around the room. He couldn’t tell if she was happy to see him or not. “Have you seen my dad? Mom wants him.”
“He’s upstairs.” He smiled at her. “He wasn’t happy to see me. Took one look at me and disappeared.”
India blew out a long, slow breath, her gaze searching his.
“I knew coming out here wasn’t a good idea—”
“He’s just being...Dad,” Scarlett argued. “Of course you’re welcome.”
“It’s a public meeting, Brody,” India said. “Anyone with an opinion on the fate of the Monarch Festival is invited—especially mayoral candidates.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s part of the problem.” Brody laughed.
