“I don’t want you to pretend.”
“The whole thing is pretend, Flynn. Deal with it.”
“You’re a coward, Jessie.”
She didn’t look back at him.
She headed toward her truck and got inside, closing the door with an exaggerated slam.
That was stupid. There was no point in starting a fight with her, and the two of them had to meet tomorrow morning to do this whole political thing. Maybe he had been stupid to think that it could work between them. That they could get along even for a limited chunk of time. Now, they were going to have to pretend to be a couple. And that meant …
That meant touching her. Maybe even kissing her.
Well. He supposed there were only two potential outcomes to that. Either she would prove her point, which might be better for both of them, or they would spontaneously combust. And set this whole fucking place on fire.
And hell, given the way wildfires spread in the West these days, he had legitimate fear about what that could mean.
He just needed to get a grip on himself. Get control. But the other issue with pretending to be Jessie’s boyfriend right now was that he wasn’t going to be doing any hooking up.
Nothing to relieve the growing tension inside him, the disastrous consequence of being around Jessie more than he ever had been.
If there was one thing Flynn was good at, it was not letting people get the better of him.
He had let her do that tonight.
It wasn’t going to happen again.
Chapter 8
Jacksonville, Oregon, is filled with men who have gold fever. A fine place for me to settle for a while. The El Dorado Saloon is comfortable, and the owner makes sure no one harms his girls. I know I could do worse. I only wish sometimes I could do better.
—Belle Martin’s Diary, April 1867
The cinnamon rolls had turned out perfectly, so there was that. But she had spent way too much time wondering about what she should wear, which was very stupid, because she knew she had to look like herself. Well, a more put-together version of herself. She had momentarily toyed with the idea that she was going to need to buy new clothes, but no. She was going to stick with the bedazzled, rhinestone look that she always favored. Because that was who she was, and that was the woman who was running for mayor.
Outlaw ticket.
She didn’t know why she had been so confrontational with Flynn last night.
Maybe the same reason you ran from him in the bar …
It was all building. She’d felt embarrassed. Embarrassed when Austin had brought up the notion that there was something between her and Flynn, because she didn’t like to acknowledge it.
Because it made her feel small and afraid, and she wanted to run from it. But of course, that didn’t make any sense to Flynn.
Because when he looked at her, he saw the same woman everybody else saw.
The one she was pretending to be today.
She had on a white cowgirl hat, a fringed jacket, a white tank top, and white bedazzled jeans. Her boots were bright pink.
She had chosen lipstick to match, not even bothering with subtlety. Subtle had never been her grift.
Flynn had texted her that he would come pick her up in the morning, and she had decided not to argue with him. It really made more sense for the two of them to meet in town, but she supposed the optics of their rolling in together were better.
She had West drive her to the end of the long driveway with all of her signs, baked goods, and flyers. Along with a spangled tablecloth for the folding table that Millie was providing for them.
West gave her a sidelong look from the driver’s seat.
