Page 13 of The Spice Is Nice

That’d have to be a mystery to solve another day. Because the doors to the Copper Cup opened, letting the noise from the rally in the town square permeate through the popular town spot for a good cup of Joe.

Harper huffed. “The nerve of the Brewsters, throwing their campaign rally for Trevor Brewster right here, practically in front of my shop. I had to beg my husband to stay away today. He’s pissed.”

“Don’t worry. Everyone loves Sheriff Patrick. There’s no way he’ll lose this election to Trevor.” I tried to ease her fears, but with her hand on her baby belly, she sauntered off to the kitchen as if a dark gloom had settled upon the town.

When I exited to head back to the Outfitters, facing an afternoon of paperwork, Trevor stood at the microphone in a suit and leather shoes. He looked like his congressman father rather than a sheriff of a small county in the west, ashe read from notes and talked about law enforcement and a bunch of other words that sounded like something the congressman’s Washington speech-writers penned.

The square was set up with a small stage, and in the middle of it sat a podium draped in red-white-and-blue bunting. Maybe fifty people were in folding chairs arranged on the grass. A few deputies stood at the perimeter, keeping an eye on the crowd.

Congressman Brewster stood proudly behind his son, and his security people lingered near the stage in dark suits and sunglasses. I had heard enough gossip to know that Brewster had a small following in the county. Some of these people might actually vote for Trevor, which would be a damn shame. He didn’t have nearly the experience that Sheriff Patrick had. And was definitely not as likable.

I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Trevor Brewster running for sheriff against Gavin Patrick, a man who’d given everything to this county, and whose own father had died on the job?

Then, all at once, my steps faltered. The last person I expected to see was Seth Brewster nearby, leaning against a black SUV as if just there to ruin my week.

A few months ago, at Ash and Willow’s wedding, when he’d crashed the reception at the Sapphire, he’d said he was just passing through. After the ODRR guys had run him out, and not seeing him since, I’d let myself believe he wouldn’t be back and I’d never have to deal with him again.

No such luck.

He hadn’t seen me yet, focused on his brother’s speech, arms folded, his expression bored, like he couldn’t care less about the words coming out of Trevor’s mouth. His fatherprobably forced him to be here, was more likely. Considering the leather jacket was gone today, replaced by a button-down shirt and suit coat, it was as if someone had tried to dress him to look respectable.

It didn’t work. No amount of clothes could change what Seth Brewster was. I knew it better than anyone.

My instinct was to turn around and walk away, to hide in my shop before he spotted me. The old Ivy would have been halfway there already. But I wasn’t that Ivy anymore. I was the president of the Chamber of Commerce. I ran Cowboy Nights, and I had a right to stand in my own town square and listen to a speech I disagreed with, and Seth Brewster’s presence would not chase me off the sidewalk.

So I stayed. I watched. And my hands trembled inside my crossed arms, where nobody could see.

“What are you doing, Wylde?” Colt’s voice came from behind me, steady and low, and the relief that washed through me almost buckled my knees. My breath caught when I turned and found him coming up the sidewalk.

He held a bag from the hardware store in one hand, with an ODRR baseball cap flipped backward on his head. What was it about a tall, strapping working cowboy that caused my stomach to flutter? His lips curved at one corner, and his eyes found mine and held them with that look he gave me when he was trying to read me. So cute, I hardly noticed the others until I forced my glance away.

Knox and Jake were there too, all of them in Wranglers, ODRR branded tees, and dusty boots, looking like they’d had a busy morning on the ranch and didn’t have time to shower before coming into town.

I hadn’t seen Colt since he walked out of Cowboy Night, and I wasn’t sure how things would be between us.

“Trevor Brewster’s running for sheriff,” I said, keeping my voice even and focused on the here and now. “Apparently this is his way of getting attention, right in the town Sheriff Patrick is from.”

Knox squinted at the stage and spat on the ground. “The Brewster kid looks like a mini-politician. What this county doesn’t need in the top lawman spot.”

“Exactly.” I almost laughed, but then Seth moved. He’d spotted me. He pushed off the SUV and started walking in my direction with that deliberate, unhurried stride that I used to enjoy staring at. My body went rigid. Every cell in me screamedmove, but my boots stayed planted on the sidewalk because I was not running like a scared little girl anymore. Even though that’s how I felt.

Colt stepped closer to me. Not in front of me, not blocking my view. Beside me, like a wall I could lean against if I needed to. He’d read the situation in half a second, the same way he’d read it at the wedding, without drama or questions, just a shift in position that saidI’m here.

I took his arm. Didn’t think about it. Just reached over and wrapped my hand around his forearm and held on. His muscles tensed once under my grip.

Seth stopped in front of us. This close, he looked older, harder around the eyes, thinner in the face, but with the same predatory demeanor behind everything he did. His gaze went from me to Colt to my hand on Colt’s arm. Back to me.

“Ivy. Nice to see you here supporting the Brewsters.”

“I’m not supporting anything. I’m standing on a public sidewalk.”

“Still got that mouth on you.” He sneered. His gaze slid to Colt. “I’ll bet you know all about that mouth of hers.”

Colt didn’t respond verbally, but his hand formed a fist, holding himself back. The air between them like the space before a thunderclap; you know it’s coming and count the seconds until it hits. Knox and Jake had gone quiet behind us, but I could feel their weight in that way the ranch guys had, ready to pounce any second.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed.

“I’m back in town. Supporting my little brother’s campaign. Thought I’d get reacquainted with the area.” He spread his hands in a gesture of false openness. “You’ll be seeing more of me. Might want to get used to it.”