Page 70 of In This Moment

“Been thinking about The Gazette and what to do with it.”

Her gut bottomed out. Gunner had given Graham six months to turn the paper around. He still had a little over a month to go, but he’d done what Gunner wanted. Graham had raised subscribers, revenue, and interest in their fledgling little paper. Advertising was through the roof from the independent shops. What was there to discuss?

Unsure what to say, or even if she could force out words, she kept mum. She stared at his thinning, neatly combed white strands, at the green polo stretched across his paunch, at his clean-shaven jaw, and wondered why he’d been relieved Graham wasn’t here.

Nothing was adding up, nor sounding optimistic, and her stomach started eating itself.

“Library renovations are coming along?”

Seriously? What next? Nice weather we’re not having? “Dorothy’s scheduling the contractors. It looks like they’ll be starting sometime in the next six weeks.”

He nodded because he obviously knew that intel. Forest ran everything for the Historical Society through the mayor’s office. She really wished Gunner would get on with it.

“Are you planning on sticking with the Gazette after the library reopens?”

“Yes.” Expelling a breath of relief, she leaned back in her chair. That’s what he was worried about. Her leaving an open position at the newspaper. “Between the three of us, we’re working out details for how to balance work and the library.”

He nodded again. “And what if I were to offer you the paper?”

Offer her the… “What?”

Graham was editor. Not her. What in tarnation was going on up in here? Gunner didn’t seem to know whether to check his ass or scratch his watch if he thought she’d take the job from Graham.

“I do believe you heard me, Miss Rebecca.” Up went his brows.

“Explain. What do you mean by offer me the paper?”

“Just how it sounds.” He straightened, casting a glance around before resettling on her. “You did all this, from the framed art to the canary.”

“I helped.”

“Per Graham, it was all your idea.”

She had a horrible, horrible feeling where this conversation was going, and her belly was rejecting the coffee she drank this morning as a result.

Carefully, she pulled a deep breath and let it out. “I had ideas. So did Forest, Scarlett, Dorothy, and Graham, the latter being the one who tabulated all those ideas into data for execution. He has a mind for business and a critical editorial eye. I’m simply more creative. Both are needed.”

He never took his gaze from her, just kept bobbing his head slowly like a demented toy on a dashboard. “You’re one of us.”

That’s what this was about? Graham being a Yankee? “So is he, you know. He owns a house, supports the small businesses, and pays his taxes here in Vallantine. Discrimination doesn’t look good on anyone, especially a mayor. I was gone almost ten years. Does that mean I’m not one of you anymore? There’s a big world out there, and getting stuck in a small town mindset would hurt The Gazette, especially accounting for tourism. For years, the newspaper was in the red. He got you out of that rut. We got it thriving again.”

A smirk lifted one corner of his mouth, indicating he’d not only expected, but appreciated her reply. Or he found her amusing. So, what the hell, then? Why was he here? Irritation tapped her temples as she narrowed her eyes.

“What happens if this little affair of yours goes sour?”

Now he was overstepping, and it was sticking in her craw. “My personal life is none of your concern. I do my job, and I do it well. So does Graham.” She leaned forward. “Our relationship will not sour, but if we do happen to go our separate ways on some distant day, we’re both adults enough to be professional.”

Gunner cleared his throat and puffed his cheeks. After a beat, he rose and replaced his chair. “There was a time, Miss Rebecca, you would’ve battered and deep fried me for a question like that.”

She gritted her teeth. “Trust me, I’m still thinking about it.”

“Good to know.” He smiled, and for the first time since he’d entered, it reached his eyes. “You were a lil spitfire of a thing as a young girl. I watched you grow, hoping the world wouldn’t douse your flame. No matter what life threw, you were always able to dust yourself off. Some folks could learn a thing or two from you. I’m mighty proud of you, and Mavis would be, too.”

Well, crap. How was she supposed to stay mad? Emotion tightened her airway, so she focused on arranging her pens.

He glanced around anew, arm draped over the top of her cubicle. “I assume that’s a no to my offer?”

He hadn’t actually offered her the job, though, had he? He’d skirted around the topic as if gauging her skin in the game. Regardless…

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