Page 3 of The Fiance Dilemma

“Oh. I, ah, was just… baking,” I explained with a laugh. I didn’t want to laugh. I wanted this night to end and a new day where therewas no ring stuck to my finger to start. “I’m messy. Messy bakers are common. I didn’t catch your name, though. I’m Josie, but we’ve established that.”

The woman’s grimace dissipated. Slightly. “I’m Bobbi,” she said with a shake of her head, her blond bob barely moving around her face. “Bobbi with ani.Bobbi Shark.”

An awkward beat of silence followed. “Beautiful name,” I offered. “Would you like to come in, Bobbi?”

Her eyebrow rose. “You’re acting like this is the first time you’ve heard of me. You were supposed to be expecting me.”

It was a good thing my face mask was hiding my frown because I’d remember if I was expecting someone with a last name like Shark. But then again, it wouldn’t be the first time someone showed up at my door at an odd hour demanding something.

“Just like I tell everyone,” I said, stepping aside and opening the door wider with my shoulder. My smile had never been bigger. “Come in and we can talk as long as you need about whatever you need.” I shot a pointed look at the man to my left. “Grandpa Moe will head to the kitchen and get started on that little mess I left behind. Then he will prepare a cup of tea for us.Right, Grandpa?”

He grumbled something, but to his credit, he turned around and headed to the kitchen.

I returned my attention to Bobbi, finding a woman with no intention of stepping inside.

“Alternatively,” I offered, suppressing a sigh. “We can chat here at the door. But in that case, we can forget about the tea. I don’t think he’s in the mood for delivery.”

My joke didn’t land. I didn’t think it even registered, based on the way she was scowling. “You don’t know who I am,” Bobbi said. “And you’re inviting me in?”

I considered my answer. “Well, I don’t suppose you’re a vampire so—”

“Nuh-uh,” she interrupted. “Stop the cutesy routine.” My mouth clamped down. “Okay, one? You need to immediately stop inviting strangers into your house from this point on,” she instructed in a shockingly serious voice. “And two,” she continued, sticking a hand out and waving it over my face and chest. “Whateverthisis. It’s not going to work. You won’t open the door looking like this. You won’t even glance out a window looking like this.” She huffed out a breath. “Aren’t you in politics?”

“I—” Was lost. And I had no idea what was going on. “I don’t like to think of myself as a politician. Sure, I’m the mayor of town, but it’s just a voluntary role in a place this small. Most days I don’t need to do anything at all.” Some other days, putting out a metaphorical fire shaved years off my life. Then something occurred to me. “Wait. Is this about Carmen?”

Bobbi’s brows rose. “I’m sorry, who?”

I took in the woman in front of me—her silver-gray wool coat and leather boots peeking out from under the hem. The spotless makeup, the perfect bob, the barely concealed entitlement she spoke with.

Had the Clarksons taken the fence issue so far they’d hired some big-time city lawyer?

“You’re wasting your time,” I told her. “It was just an incident. The Clarksons are wasting good money on something that can be solved with a civil conversation. It’s no one’s fault that Carmen escaped. Cows aren’t the lazy animals everyone paints them to be. They can be stealthy. And Robbie Vasquez had no way of knowing what she was doing until he installed the security cameras around the barn. He didn’t expect Carmen to be sneaking out. Much less trespassing and getting a little frisky with the Clarksons’ cattle. It’s mother nature’s call, if you ask me.”

Bobbiwith an iblinked at me like I’d just sprouted a second head. Or like she was thinking about how to chop it off and get rid of it.

Oh God, was I about to be sued? Was Robbie about to be sued? A knot formed in my stomach. “Please don’t sue us. I swear the fence will be fixed.”

Bobbi’s eyes closed, then she muttered. “This is my worst nightmare.”

“Is that a yes or a no? Because I promise you, Miss Shark, there’s no need to—”

“You,” she interjected. “This. Cattle. Cows named Carmen. Fences. Barns. This… weather. The fresh air. The fact that I haven’t seen a Starbucks since leaving the airport. All of it.” My lips fell open, but she stopped me with a finger. “You have no idea what’s going on or why I’m here, and I was assured you’d been briefed and were on board with all of it. I have written confirmation of it. I can show you the emails, I could swear you’re cc-d on all of them.”

The emails?

The—

An image was triggered, flashing behind my eyelids. A memory.

Bobbi continued, “I thought my last relationship was toxic, but clients are worse than an egomaniac partner who thinks they’re doing you a favor by gaslighting you.” She pulled her phone out of her coat pocket and began tapping the screen. “He’s going to hear about this. This is going to set us back a whole day, if not two. Such a waste of time.”

He’s going to hear about this.

He.

I swallowed a lump of dread. My words all but croaking out of me. “Who are you, exactly?”

Thetappety-tapof her nails came to a stop. She gave me an impressed look. “I’m a PR strategist. An expensive one at that. You would know if you’d read the emails.” She seemed to think of something. “You guys get internet here, right? Like, I know this is remote, and there’s”—she looked around—“trees and mountainsand nature and, you know,cabincoreor whatever. But you guys get internet here.Right?”

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