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“It was just a quick purchase to get me home.”

“It broke down?” He shoots me a condemning look, as if it’s my fault.

“Yeah, the piston shot out, I think,” she says.

“What?” Mayor Monroe’s voice booms. “Honey...”

“Oh, Dad, calm down,” Juliet says with an easy grin, resting a hand on his arm. “It was nothing, I promise.”

“Still, I’d like the contact information of the man who obviously cheated you,” he grumbles.

“That’s not necessary,” she says, amused.

Her dad pauses, then his whole persona softens. “All right. I’ll let it go. For now.”

I can’t look away. It’s like watching a horse whisperer with a mustang the way her presence calms Mayor Monroe. Does that mean the war between us is on hold for the moment?

“Anyway,” Juliet continues, “Archer found me on the side of the road and was nice enough to bring me and my stuff here.”

Her eyes linger on me in a way I wish they wouldn’t. Not with her dad watching. He’s obviously deducing whether or not to send someone to have me arrested—again—or let me off with a warning for daring to pick up his stranded daughter on the side of the road.

Instead, the mayor extends his hand toward me. “Mr. Kade, thanks for picking up my daughter.”

Okay, so I guess he’s going the truce route. This has to be because his daughter’s watching. If we were alone, Mayor Monroe would have said at least three things by now to throw Horseshoe Holler under the bus, then brought up my less-than-perfect track record in Texas—just like he always does. I would have already responded in the same way, too, lightly condemning his lawmaking or subtly jabbing his age. All with a smile, of course. Because that’s how the two of us have nonverbally agreed to live out our days here in Autumn Ridge.

I accept the handshake, not willing to appear like the lesser man. “Happy to help, sir,” I reply with a furtive glance at Juliet.

She watches me with a knowing look, as if she’s saying, “See? I told you you’d back down. Everyone always does.”

But I’m not backing down. I’m just gauging the situation to see if this is all worth it. I know the mayor’s bound by law to do the right thing. And honestly, I’m sure he’s an honorable and upstanding guy—to everyone but me. But the truth is, he doesn’t like me, and he never will.

The feeling is mutual. I could never vote for a man who doesn’t believe in second chances.

“We expect only the best from those who live in Autumn Ridge,” he said all those years ago. “Shape up or get out.”

It wasn’t the worst thing an officer has said to me. Still, a few years ago, I listened and tried hard to become an upstanding citizen. When he refused to remove the target he placed on my back, I had no other choice but to lean into the status he gave me—a nuisance. Like when I rode my horse through his mayoral inaugural speech, or when I went behind his back to gain support for my Sleepy Holler venue, despite his commandment not to.

It’s all harmless, really. But it does upset the mayor’s control of his town, which satiates my desire for justice.

Or vengeance, depending on your point of view.

“Run into any trouble on the way here?” he asks.

“Not at all, sir.”

We’re clearly pretending there’s no animosity between us, which means he hasn’t told Juliet about me—how I’d been caught loitering in a questionable location when I first moved to Autumn Ridge. How the mayor challenged me on the legality of my business license. How he arrested me when he was sheriff on some ridiculous charge.

If she knew any of that, she wouldn’t have taken a second look at me—because she obviously values her relationship with her father.

“He got me back in one piece, Dad,” Juliet says. “He was very attentive.”

“Was he?” Mayor Monroe mumbles. He watches me, daring me to respond.

If I push this button, I might end up kidnapped and dumped in the Mojave Desert. But I can’t help myself as the warning in his eyes grows stronger. I deliver the slightest, most innocent look in his direction, as if to say, “Oh, I was attentive.”

His eyes harden as the challenge between us strengthens. We’re not quite eye-to-eye, as I’m a few inches taller than him, which must bug him.

“How’s business coming at Horseshoe Holler?” Mr. Monroe asks.