Page 39 of In This Moment

“Thought so. Rumors in small towns are typically based on some form of truth. A good amount of our folks are rooting for you.” Gunner’s lips twitched in what could pass as a smirk. “Best be minding our Rebecca’s heart, though. It’s been broken a few times too many.”

A nod, and the mayor left.

Graham, alone once more, waited for the mayor to pass by the window, then he bent at the waist and blew out a gale force wind.

The hell had that been about? He couldn’t tell if he’d been praised, put on probation, or threatened. In five mere minutes. Criminy, he had whiplash.

The jingling of Twain’s collar joined Graham’s heartbeat, and the dog stuck his head out the doorway of the inner office.

Hands on his hips, Graham sighed. “Thanks for bailing, you sissy. You just left me for the wolves out here.”

Twain sat on his haunches as if to say, sorry, not sorry.

“I’ll forgive you this time.” He went to his office to grab his things, petting the dog on his way. “That was completely out of the blue, right? The whole conversation. I mean, weird.”

Twain tilted his head like he understood.

Pocketing his keys and phone, Graham stood by his desk, rattled. If he lost this job, there would likely be no other in his field. He wasn’t good at anything else. If he had to start all over again in a fresh career, he had zero clue what he’d do. After the scandal, when it became apparent no one would hire him, he’d toyed with different path options, and found squat. But he’d made his bed, and now he had to lay in it. He was damn lucky to have this opportunity.

Until Rebecca, he’d done little more than the motions. She’d lit a fire under him. Got the interest of the town involved. Made changes that were working. Hell, he had ideas and a spark again. Just this evening, after she’d left, he’d written his first article in months instead of just editing or designing the pages for print. Hope had stupidly bloomed.

The visit from Gunner gave Graham the clear impression his boss knew this had all been her craftsmanship. That she was the one making the Gazette thrive anew. And he’d be correct. But what had been the purpose in dropping by? To see if Graham would lie? Take credit? To hint that Gunner was aware of the inner workings and Graham should watch his step? Had it been a warning or precursor?

He just…didn’t know, and the uncertainty ate at his gut. He’d moved hundreds of miles from his family and all he knew to take a job in a tiny southern town doing the kind of work he used to baulk at, only to hit a wall. If not for a feisty blonde saving his ass, he’d be fired in four months for no productivity. And after tonight’s impromptu visit, he wasn’t so sure saving the paper would save his career, seeing as he’d had no hand in it.

Anxiety tripped his pulse. Worry tapped his temples.

Not sure what to do with the restless energy, he whistled for the dog, locked up, and walked down Main Street toward his suburb. As usual, the town square was quiet, and he was left alone with his thoughts. He was beginning to hate his own company.

Maybe the fresh air and stroll would do him some good. It was Friday night. He could call Forest and get a beer. Or change when he got home and go for a run. Read a novel he’d recently picked up at one of the shops. Research material for small town papers and Georgia-specific content. Watch some mindless television. Fix the back door deadbolt that wouldn’t catch the latch. Scroll online for patio furniture for the deck. Bake more ridiculous cookies for the mailman. Unpack the rest of the boxes from his old apartment. Paint the spare bedroom. Call his folks. Watch the grass grow that he’d just cut on…

“Hey, everything okay?”

Irritated, he glanced up from where he sat on the top step of the stoop outside his house to the interruption, and was met with familiar blue eyes. Rebecca. She was easy to talk to, didn’t judge, encouraged rather than discouraged, both stirred and settled his crazy, smelled great, straddled the cute and sexy-as-hell line, was smart as a whip, and had a great funny bone. Damn if she wasn’t exactly what he’d needed. How’d she know?

Actually, after a quick glance around, he realized he had zero recollection of making it home, and it was her stoop he was on. Guess that had been his subconscious at play, not her intuition.

He was an idiot. A severely distracted one.

Twain let out an exasperated sigh beside Graham to punctuate the conclusion.

She’d changed clothes since leaving the office. She wore a pair of skinny jeans, sandals with heels, and some sort of flowy green blouse that fell off one shoulder. Her hair was loose from her typical work knot, caramel strands blowing gently in the breeze. She stood, staring down at him, with worry lines creasing her forehead. Probably because he hadn’t answered her, not that he could recall what she’d asked.

Slipping a black purse off her shoulder, she set it by his feet on the bottom step and crouched in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

Everything. Nothing.

“You look nice.” That wasn’t exactly an answer, but it was the God’s honest truth. She had such a lovely, angular face, accented by those huge eyes. Vastly expressive.

“Thank you.” Her expression indicated she wasn’t convinced by his evasive comment, yet she rolled with it.

“You’re welcome. How was bookclub?”

“It was fun, for the most part.” She had Twain move, and sat beside Graham in the dog’s place. “Scarlett’s mama had her nose in the air about a few changes to the plantation and the fact Aden Abner joined club.”

“Who’s Aden?”

“An old classmate.” She brushed a strand away from her face, smile wistful. “His family used to work for the Taylors. About five years ago, Scarlett sold Aden a chunk of the estate grounds where the barns are located. He built a house there and runs a business that coincides with hers. Horse-drawn carriage rides and such.”

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