“The viper?”
“Danielle LeFevre. There is no other mayoral candidate, and just three days left to declare.”
“Not your problem.”
“It’s everyone’s problem. You know that noise ordinance she’s been amping for is going to affect us—which isn’t even fair. Her parking permit stuff is outrageous, and she’s misallocating funds—you can be sure of that. She wants to gut funding for the Historical Society, and she’s now reversing her stance on the new plaques in town saying we’re … revising history or something when you know it was about correcting lies and making sure people know the truth about the history of this place.”
“I agree with you. She sucks. But why you?” West asked.
She didn’t answer that question directly. “I just can’t understand why no one else is running against her.”
“They aren’t dying to be in charge of a town with under two thousand people so they can lord their supposed authority over everyone around them?”
“All right. When you put it like that.”
“Danielle isn’t your problem. She’s just going to do what she’s going to do. Spend money on silly trips that probably should’ve goneto patch cracks in the sidewalk. End up stealing the librarian’s fiancé, which I wouldn’t even kick up a fuss about except that he has the same name as her brother.”
Jessie made a face. “Ugh.”
“But hey,” West continued, “our ancestors were full-on betrayers and murderers.”
“Notallof them. Justoneof them was.”
“One of them was a courtesan.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Jessie Jane grinned widely at her brother.
“No, I didn’t. I’m just pointing it out.”
“If something is in demand, it’s a smart business decision to go into that business. And I think we know what sells. Always,” she pointed out.
“I’m certainly not dragging the great and glorious Belle Martin. Not for any reason at all. My point is, we have an eclectic history.”
“Sure.”
And that history pretty much never included walking the straight and narrow. Oh sure, they were on the up and up with the Wild West Show. But Jessie couldn’t deny that she had some side hustles that were a little less than scrupulous. Her farrier business, on the other hand, was totally scrupulous.
And anyway, regarding the gambling, it was her opinion that if people wanted to bet their hard-earned money on horse races, fistfights, and football games, it wasn’t her job to talk them out of it. And she made a little bit of cash whenever she talked them into it.
She was good at explaining a position. Holding it.
If she knew one thing, it was that she was … Well, one of her friends in high school had said that she should start a cult. Because for all that she was rough around the edges, she had a way with people.
A hard-earned way.
Not with everybody, though. Flynn Wilder came to mind. He was not charmed by her. Not at all. Annoying, because he was a sexybastard. Another unclimbable mountain, but one that Jessie had long ago accepted she would never scale. There were a lot of handsome men. If she wanted to hook up, she could just … pick one of them. She didn’t need to borrow trouble with a Wilder.
But what a spectacle it would be …
“You’re literally scheming,” West said.
“I’m notscheming.” West continued to treat her to the patented hard glare that many women about town calledsexyand she calledannoying. “Okay. I’m lightly scheming. It’s a mild scheme. But it will probably never make it out of the scheming phase.”
He lifted his brows. “And if it does?”
“At that point it will become aplot,” she explained.
“Tell me more.”
