I set my gun down and face him, crossing my arms. “And you do?”
“I’ve been married to one for thirty-five years, so I’d say so.”
I swallow down my retort. Being married doesn’t make my dad an expert. I’ve witnessed that firsthand.
My dad holds up his palms as if seeking a truce. “All I’m saying is I don’t want you to get distracted. You’ve got to keep your eye on the prize. You’re so close to getting everything you’ve worked for, and I’d hate to see you throw it away now because a little woman got under your skin.”
My mind flashes to Noli. No one in their right mind would ever describe her as a “little woman.” These are the sorts of comments that make my blood boil, but I intend to let that boiling blood roll off my back. Like water off a duck, or whatever.
I sigh and bite my tongue. “I’m not throwing away anything. Noli is nothing more than a means to an end.”
Even as I say it, my stomach churns. It doesn’t feel right to talk about anyone in such a callous way, and certainly not Noli, a woman who is smart and kind and strong. A woman I’ve developed very real feelings for. I hold that thought deep inside,though. I’m not about to tell my dad I’m actually falling for my fake bride. I’m still getting used to the idea myself.
He slaps me on the back. “That’s what I like to hear. Now come on, take your shots so we can get you ready for the debate.”
He sounds almost gleeful, and I wonder how he does that—switches from flying sixty miles per hour with one thought, namely that I shouldn’t let my fake wife derail my career, to another, the sheriff’s race.
I work to clear my mind. I stare down the target that’s fifty feet away.
“Show me what you’ve got, son.”
I nod once, checking my grip on my pistol and lining up my shot.
I exhale and let my first shot go. I follow it up in quick succession with nine more, pausing in brief, equal intervals before pulling the trigger in each case.
My dad whistles when I’m done and sends the bullet sheet forward toward us so he can check my marks. As it gets close enough for us to see, I can’t help the wide grin that spreads over my face.
My dad laughs and slaps me on the back again. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be worried about you. I should have known it would take more than a wife to throw you off your game. A perfect 10!” He rips the paper down.
A swell of pride rises in my chest.
“Hopefully this is a sign of good things to come in your future. I know you won’t let me down, son.”
25
That’s Debatable
Collin
The lights in the front of the auditorium where the county is holding its one and only televised sheriff’s debate are blinding, and it’s hot up here. I casually run my finger along the neckline of my button-up shirt. My opponent has been civil, so this is pretty low stress. Our debate is more like a joint press conference or a joint town hall conversation.
I’m holding my own, or I’d like to think I am, anyway. I’ve never minded public speaking, and my team prepped me well. There hasn’t been a question I haven’t handled.
We’re over halfway through with the rigmarole, and honestly, I can’t wait to be finished because Noli is standing with my parents, off to the side of the stage and behind me, and she’s all I want to think about.
I didn’t get to talk to her before we started, because she was running late. She got caught up at work. Something about a powerline down in downtown Cashmere Cove. From our brief text exchange, it sounded like they needed all hands on deck. I feel guilty that I pulled her away from her job and guilty that I’m not there, helping to keep people safe.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her on the big screen behind me, shifting her weight from leg to leg. I don’t know if she’s nervous to be up in front of the crowd, or if her mind is still on work, or what. If it’s the former, she shouldn’t be. She’s wearing a simple, short-sleeved, black dress that’s fitted to her curves. It hits her above the knee, and she’s got on wedged heels, which give her some height. She almost makes it to my shoulder. She’sgot her hair down, simple gold hoop earrings in her ears, and a bright-red stain on her Cupid’s-bow lips.
It’s been two months, twenty-three days, and two hours since I tasted those lips. Yes, I’ve got a mental clock going. I know the kiss in Pensacola wasn’t real. But it felt real. And it felt good. And what I really want to do is kiss Noli again.
I didn’t think a fake fiancée would be such a mind-suck, but I clearly hadn’t spent enough time around Noli Kasper to accurately assess how much headspace she’d take up.
I force myself to focus, glancing quickly down the line behind me. My parents are standing beside Noli; my dad is decked out in his full uniform, looking serious; and my mom is grinning with pride.
I turn my attention back to my opponent. He’s droning on and on about his record over the past twenty years. I don’t mind Lloyd McDermit. He’s done an adequate job as county sheriff. Actually, my whole schtick is not to throw him under the bus, but instead to focus on building on where we’ve been and taking the county to new heights. Fresh ideas, new blood—it’s a good thing.
“And as you know, my wife of nearly forty years, Lindy, has supported my efforts through and through,” Lloyd says. “Much like I’ve committed my life to Lindy, I’ve also committed my life to the service of this community. It takes strength of character to be in the role of sheriff, just as it does to be one half of a thriving marriage. I’ve proven that I have the fortitude to do both. This is an area where I’m afraid my opponent lacks experience. Not to mention this is a family-based community, and I know firsthand what it takes to keep my jurisdiction a positive place to live and work.”
