Cori had spent the flight trying to keep her hopes from getting out of control, but she'd created a thousand different fantasies. None of which was her being held accountable for her father's actions once again. Each daydream had been a fresh start, a chance to do something good and be considered a friend, a helper, and a kind person. Because dang it all, she was all those things, but no one affected by her father's greed could see past that. Not that she blamed them. But sometimes, she wanted to. Didn't they understand that every time she looked in the mirror she was reminded of his deeds as well?

Fort's words struck right at her center, a jab to the heart. The sight of her made him sick.

“Yep, that's me, a walking vestige. Aren't I lucky? I wear it well, don't you think?” She stuck her hand on her hip, did a model pose, and followed it with an eye roll.

He glanced at her, then quickly away, almost as if he couldn't stand to look at her. Which very well might be the case.

She reached into her camera bag and took out her phone. She wanted to lash out at someone, anyone, and Sabrina was the obvious choice. All those book club meetings where they talked about how Cori wanted to do right, wanted to be seen beyond her father's egregious acts, and here she was, an accomplice for the man who probably hated her father the most. She texted that exact thing to Sabrina.

Okay, accomplice might be a strong word. Fort wasn't a criminal, but he was essentially proposing to run a con. And she was his sidekick.

Irony at its finest. One day she was going to get a normal job without people like Mitzi and do all things normal. Like watch TV, have friends, and maybe get a dog.

Fort Besingame was so far from normal it wasn't funny. Take his shoulders, for example. They were so broad she half expected his shirt to rip down the back when he reached across his chest and pulled his phone from his breast pocket. How about his height? Yeah, most guys were over six feet, but not all of them carried themselves like Fort. Where they lumbered, he strolled and, for lack something less cheesy, he was essentially a pillar of strength. She knew his dark skin came from his Spanish mother, with some help from the sun; his slate gray eyes were from his father. As was that stupid strong superman chin of his, butt dimple and all. Though she supposed, on him, the dimple didn't make his chin look like a butt as it did on some others. Crap on a cracker, if she didn't find him so repulsive and, well, carrying a crap-ton of guilt thanks to dear old Dad, she'd find Fort Besingame kinda hot. Even his stupid, long fingers stabbing at his phone were appealing.

“So, we're calling this a no go, right?” She needed to make a plan soon. Maybe Sabrina would pay her some of the money. She might have to stay with her mom to get on her feet, Lord help her, but now that she had the idea of a fresh start firmly planted, she wasn't about to de-root it.

“I don't see any other choice. There's no way we could fake a friendship, much less romantic interest.” His gaze swept to her chest, and Cori instinctively thrust her shoulders back, pushing her chest out.

“Give up,” she said as she watched him disconnect the phone and try again. “She's not going to answer. I've texted her tons even before I saw you, and it’s been silent.”

“A communication blackout,” he said and lowered his phone.

She nodded. “I suppose she wants us to figure this out ourselves. Maybe I'm your one-shot deal.”

Fort shifted, tucked his phone in his shirt pocket, and crossed his arms over his chest. Cori watched to see if the muscles from his forearms or biceps would burst through the straining cotton cloth.

“She wants me to put my trust in you? Come on, that might be asking too much.” He raised a corner of his lip in distaste.

Cori's temper flared. As had been her habit over the last decade, she went to squash it, to play nice and not add fuel to the never-ending fire, but this wasn't Brewster and she didn't have to make Fort like her. There was no chance of that. Besides, she was so very tired of keeping it all in, of being a chump. Sometimes it felt like she might choke on it all. Her only crime was being born to the wrong people. Cori stepped close to him, her head reaching only as far as his chin, so she had to tilt her head back. Way back.

“You listen here, Fort Be-so-lame.” She poked a finger into his chest. “Essentially, you're trying to run a con on your entire town. Will your mom be in on it? My guess is she won't.” His gaze darted away, and she had her answer. “I knew it. So don't stand there all tall and mighty—”

“High and mighty.”

“That, too. But make no mistake, you're no better than me at this moment. Difference is this con isn't my idea and the end game isn't my prize.” She gave one final jab into his rock-hard chest. The man was made of steel.

He placed a hand on the top of her head, holding her still, and stepped back. “Easy there small-fry. It's not that I think I'm better. It's that I wonder how we'll pull it off. We don't really like each other much.” When he removed his hand, he accidentally brushed her shoulder, and Cori experienced a ripple of goose bumps on that side.

Revulsion. Had to be. She wanted him to do it again just to be sure. Cripes, she was messed up. She was so needy for affection that even grossness felt good.

“I suppose Sabrina thought we could do it,” she said, thinking out loud while picturing Fort nuzzling her neck. How would she respond? More goosebumps broke out. She jerked her attention back to him and snapped her fingers. “Oh, Sabrina sent this box to you.” She dug in her camera bag and came out with a long, slender white box big enough to hold a thin wallet. Curiosity was killing Cori. She hadn't opened it on the plane. Mainly because the sides were taped, and she hadn't figured out how to peel them back without tearing at the box.

“What is it?” he asked.

Cori looked up at him and rolled her eyes. “It's kryptonite.”

He glanced at her, disbelief furrowing his brow.

“How should I know? It's taped shut.” She sighed loudly with exasperation. Hoping he'd realize she thought he was a moron. In case there was any doubt.

Fort dug a pocketknife from the front of his jeans, pushed the blade out, and then cut the tape. He was moving so dang slow Cori had to clench her fingers into her palms to keep from snatching the box from him and opening it. It had been forever since she'd been given a gift, and even though this one wasn't technically for her, it felt like it had something to do with her. She bit her lip to keep from screaming at him to hurry.

Once his knife was returned to the comfort of his pocket, Fort returned his attention to the box. “Wanna take a guess before I open it?”

She glanced at him. Was he teasing her? There was a slight quirk to his lips. She made a valiant attempt to act blasé. “Maybe it's your invoice for her services?”

“Fancy way to present that, don't you think?”

“Sabrina is pretty fancy.” Impulsively, she reached for the box, but jerked her hand back when her fingers touched the top. To cover her embarrassment, she said sassily, “You could just open it so we know what's inside.”

Fort chuckled then wiggled the top off. When he lifted it, Cori moved in closer.

He asked, “Is that a diamond ring?” Inside were two cards and a ring tied by ribbon to a cushion. The white stone sparkled.

“Maybe it’s cubic zirconia or moissanite.” She stared at the large gem.

“‘No Man is an Island’ by John Donne,” he said and lifted the first card. He turned it so she could see the poem had been printed on the back.

Cori snickered.

“This must be for you,” he said and handed it to her.

The paper was heavy and thick. “I'm pretty sure it's for you.” She placed it back in the box. The other card was Sabrina's business card. White card stock with the word HOPE embossed on the top, her name and information in metallic, navy ink. “Why she put her business card in here makes no sense. We know how to get ahold of her.”

It was Fort's turn to chuckle. “Yeah, and she better hope that when I do, I keep my tone civil.”

Cori went for Sabrina's card, thinking something might be written on the back, just as Fort went to replace the lid. She bumped his hand and the box flipped over, dumping everything on the floor. The ring skittered to a stopping beneath the underside of a trashcan.

Cori went for the cards and the box, Fort the ring, having to get on his knees to reach it. He had turned, put one foot on the floor to stand while handing her the ring, when they were interrupted.

“Classy Fort, asking a girl to marry you in an airport. And have you told her yet you're doing it to win an election?”

Cori turned and looked up at another tall cowboy, this one blond and a tad on the thin side. He had an even smile that would likely be engaging if he wasn't sneering at Fort. She glanced at the new guy's chest and, unbidden, pictured it bare. She mentally compared his sunken chest to Fort's broad, manly one.

Fort, on one knee, the ring still attached to its cotton bed by ribbon. His arm extended was toward her, the ring on his palm. It sure could be misinterpreted.

Cori swiped it off his hand.

“Are you following me Deke, or do you actually have a purpose here?” Fort stood and moved to stand next to her.

“I'm here picking up my campaign manager. Not that I need one. I could literally do nothing and win this race.” He looked down at Cori and winked. “You're nothing like I pictured, but you're cute.” He extended his hand. “I'm Deke Sutton.”

“Cori Walters,” she said without thinking, then quickly glanced at Fort. Had he given them another name and she’d just jacked up the entire plan? He was staring at Deke.

“You're serious that you brought in a campaign manager?” Fort asked.

“Of course. With the insurance company and working for the county, I didn't want to split my attention from those jobs. My first priority is the people.” Deke dropped Cori's hand but his attention was all hers. He wagged his brows as he stepped closer, as if they were good friends and not people who had just met. With a crooked grin he asked, “So, did you say yes?” His voice was laced with happy curiosity.

She was getting the charm job. Deke Sutton was a golden boy with a twinkly smile. There was something boyish about him that was appealing, and he knew it. He used it. Yet, she saw something else. A sadness around him. Had she not spent the last decade being sad, she might not have recognized it since he covered it so well with cockiness and snark.

“Ah…” She glanced at Fort who was staring intently at her. Probably trying to melt her mind or will her into doing something. She knew from all those years back he was a control freak. “Have you decided if you are running for sheriff too, darling?” She used her best beauty pageant voice. She hoped he'd pick up on her real question. Was he in or was he out? She needed to know how to proceed.

Fort gave Deke a look that said he was sizing him up, then he turned his attention back to Cori. “I think I will run, short stuff,” he said, using the nickname he'd called her all those years ago. Before everything imploded.

For a brief moment, Cori had to blink back the moisture gathering in her eyes. She gave into the impulse and threw her arms around his waist. “Yay! I'm so excited.” Dang it, he smelled good. A little like camping and cows and a whole lot like she should move away quickly. She couldn't explain why, but she was glad to be staying and giving this ruse a go.