Page 44 of The Mayor and the Mystery Man

“Life finds a way,” I said, lying back on the couch.

“Do you want half?”

“No.”

Dusty nudged his wine glass my way. “Fill ’er up.”

I poured him a glass.

“I knew you’d be drinking wine out here. Oof, and it’s red.”

“What does that mean?”

“You only drink red when you’re really stressed. White wine is for a general unwinding of the day. Something light and airy, you once told me. Red is when you need to be calmed down.”

I both hated and loved how much Dusty knew about me. I topped him off and pushed the glass over. Dusty took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

Flames crackled behind us. The fire framed Dusty’s face in silhouette, showing off his hard jawline, which had only gotten stronger and more refined with age. I could see the soft pout of his thin lips.

“I’m not much of a sleeper.” Dusty sunk into his end of the couch. “That’s why I can handle all of our late-night calls.”

“I don’t think I’ve slept the whole night through since I was in elementary school.” The smell of toasted bagel became too tempting, and I found a new pocket of hunger. “Can I have a bite?”

Dusty handed his plate over. I took exactly one bite, then handed it back. I didn’t want to overstep. Why did I suddenly worry about overstepping with Dusty? I used to think we didn’t have any limits, but maybe I was pushing up against them.

“What’s keeping you up?” Dusty asked. “Mmm, this is good wine.”

“What doesn’t? Keeping a town on track, the constant looming elections, making sure my kids are okay.”

“The kids are all right. I promise you that. Everything you want to teach them, you are. It’s getting through. I promise you that.”

I smiled into my wine. The crackling fire made Dusty’s skin glow shades of amber. My heart beat in my ears. Fire made everything sexier, didn’t it?

Shit. So did wine.

“So about today…”

“I’m sorry. Vernita was out of line.”

“She wasn’t.” Dusty tapped his fingers against the arm of the couch. “Should we practice kissing?”

My eyebrows went up. Maybe another part of me did, too. “What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Dusty had a mix of playfulness and fear flickering in his eyes. “If we need to pull off being a couple, then kissing is part of that.”

“Is a kiss something we need to practice?” I tried to maintain my reserve and professionalism, even though my insides were shaking and begging to suck face with Dusty. “We’ve been around the block.”

Dusty put a faux-outraged hand over his heart. “Are you calling me a slut?”

“Of course not,” I said with my best sarcastic tone. “But we’ve kissed people before.”

“We want it to be believable.”

“People will believe it because they’ll see it. You can’t fake a kiss.”

Dusty brushed his hand through his hair, making it all shaggy and cute. “Do you want to be on that stage at Applefest bumping our noses or making faces when our lips and tongue touch?”

“Making faces?” But more importantly: “Tongue? Applefest has kiddie hayrides and artisan craftsmen selling candles. It’s not the tongue type of place.”

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