I touch her arm and shoot daggers around the room. “Of course.”
“Don’t forget to grab the snack tray. I might want it later.” That makes me crack a smile at least.
* * *
We walkalong Everhope Road with our arms touching as we stroll and I balance the tray in one hand. We’ve been a little quiet, and we’ve walked one block.
Perhaps, it’s because it’s calming on the street with only the sound of a lawn mower in the distance and some kids playing ball a block up ahead. Someone checking their mailbox and saying hi. It’s all the things that one would want in neighbors.
At least we no longer need to worry about who sees us together. That’s a relief, but Rosie is quiet.
“You okay?” I ask.
She continues to step slowly, one foot in front of the other, and stare down at the sidewalk. “Yeah, sure… not really.”
I stop and touch her arm to encourage her to face me. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s silly.”
“No. What is it?”
She nibbles the corner of her mouth. “What?” I wonder.
“Appearances and all. Is that why you insisted that I move in?”
My eyes grow big, and my mouth opens to adjust to the silliness that just left her mouth. “Are you serious?” She nods once, and I snort a laugh in response. “Absolutely not.”
The evening sun glows an orange hue on her face as she looks up and down the street. “Okay, I just thought that I would ask. I heard the words strategy, and I don’t know, my head kind of connected dots that maybe it makes sense, the whole sell-the-image kind of thing.”
If it wasn’t for our snack necessities, then I would throw away the tray that I balance on my arm so I could touch her with both hands. Instead, I have to deal with one hand. Crooking my fingers, I scoop up her chin to lift her sparkly eyes up to chain with my own.
“It’s Everhope. I’m not sure the need to sell an image is a necessity. The current mayor literally walks around in jeans and a polo. People here are just happy to have farmers’ markets and clean streets. Besides, you know me better. I wouldn’t do that. Iwantyou to be in my house. For so many reasons, but that isn’t one. It never even crossed my mind. You believe me when I say that, right?”
She nods. “Sorry. I just… my thoughts are everywhere these days.”
“Mine too. You don’t need to say sorry, I understand why you asked, but there is no need to. I promise,” I assure her.
She now wears a tiny smile. “It’s also kind of weird. I mean, do you really want to be mayor?”
“Why not?”
She snickers and steps back. “It’s not your parents pressuring you or boredom? You love being sheriff, and you won’t be allowed to do both.”
“Yeah, but I’m ready for a change. It’s less dangerous, too.”
Now she giggles. “Right.” The way she licks her lips, with her wry smile staying fixed, tells me she’s remembering something. “I used to be scared that you would get hurt or have to answer a robbery call or something. But then you would always remind me that in this county the worse that can happen is denied permits or a hockey player speeding and trying to avoid a ticket. The only time you got hurt on the job was when a drunk guy tried to throw a bottle at a raccoon and you had to intervene. Not exactly city life. Still…”
This is the part that I always love to hear her say.
“I worry.”
That’s the part.
“Do you still?” I wonder.
Her mouth twitches. “I do.”
That warms me still the same as it did before. “Luckily, mayor is a lot less risk. The only concern is when those city council meetings can cause a few tempers to flare.”
