“Want to go easy on those weights, man, or is the Chamber planning on replacing them once you’ve banged them up beyond repair?”
Cal removed his right earbud, giving his eardrum a much-needed break from the relentless clamor of rock music. He glanced over at Carter Conrad, who seemed displeased with Cal’s morning mood. When Cal looked at Carter, he only saw his best childhood friend, who was just a shy, scraggly kid when they met. Everyone else who looked at him saw the town’s pleasant-but-respected police chief.
Granted, the man had packed on about thirty pounds of muscle since their high school days, but old memories died hard.
“Sorry,” Cal said, glancing down to where the forty-pound dumbbell had just crashed at his feet. Given the fact that no public gym operated in Bloomsburo, Cal appreciated Carter’s generosity in letting him work out at the police station weight room. The two friends met up there at least two mornings a week, and Cal typically took better care of the equipment. “I guess I’m in a zone.”
And by saying he was “in a zone,” Cal meant that he wanted to exert himself to the breaking point in an attempt to work that damn dream out of his system. Every time he closed his eyes, his brain replayed last night’s visions with startling clarity.
Winnie, lying on a blanket in the grass on Cosgrove Hill.
All that dark, wavy, hair splayed around her. A soft purple sundress pulled down around her waist.
His hand slipping beneath the dress folds to caress her wet, hot core.
His mouth feasting on her bare breasts as they rose and fell with the moans he coaxed from her.
He bit the inside of his lip until it bled, attempting to tamp the desire that threatened to flood his senses again and bring his focus back to the humid weight room. Sure, he had had his fair share of sexy dreams, mostly as a teenager, but never about a woman from his real life. Never with such staggering specificity. He wasn’t going to get caught up in the fantasy again. Not here. Not in front of Carter.
“You pissed about something?” Carter asked. The brawny cop typically avoided much talk about emotions, but aside from Cal’s own mother, no one could read Cal’s moods like his childhood friend.
Surprising himself and Carter, Cal took out his other earbud and shut down his music.
“My brain’s all scrambled. I can’t focus,” he confessed with a sigh.
“Work stuff?” Carter asked, pulling up a weight bench to sit on, and grabbing a sip of water.
“Nah, not really. I mean, Bloomsburo Days is coming up soon, so that’s always a ton of work, but it’s nothing I haven’t done lots of times before.”
“Your family okay?” Carter asked.
“More or less. Ma’s meddling, as usual.”
“Better that she’s meddling with you than meddling with me.”
Cal had to chuckle at that. Carter’s name appeared right below his own on his mother’s list of single Bloomsburo bachelors she’d like to marry off. Carter carried a hell of a lot of personal baggage though, which served to cool his mother’s matchmaking determination.
“You didn’t have a date last weekend that you didn’t tell me about, did you? Did something go south?”
“Nope. It’s been a while now.”
“Oh, well that explains it, then,” Carter teased. “You’re suffering from a drought. That’ll mess with a man’s brain.”
Cal glared at his friend.
“That’s not it exactly, but the drought surely doesn’t help, as I’m sure you understand.”
His friend let out a rueful laugh.
“I’d feel sorry for you, except that I know how every eligible woman in this town, and a third of the married ones, would jump at a chance to be your date this weekend.”
Cal shot him an annoyed look. “And the same couldn’t be said about you?”
Carter merely shrugged, and Cal let it go. It had only been in the past year that people in the street could look at Carter without growing overwhelmed with pity and grief, but that didn’t mean that the man needed to jump back on the market.
Given the losses Carter had been through in the last few years, Cal wouldn’t be surprised if his friend never dated again. He probably wouldn’t if he was in the guy’s shoes. Some grief you just don’t recover from.
“I don’t know though, man,” Carter continued. “This feels woman-related. You don’t have something brewing that I don’t know about, do you?”
“Nothing I want to be brewing.”
“The plot thickens. It can’t be anyone around here. Any decent hometown prospects got themselves married and off the market years ago.”
Cal scoffed.
“You don’t mean your mom’s new renter?”
“How the hell do you know about that?” Cal cried, annoyance morphing into anger. “My mom told you that she rented out the She Shed before she told me?”
Carter shot his friend a self-satisfied look grin. “I am her favorite son.”
Cal sighed. His mother had all but adopted Carter, and he knew she liked him better than her own flesh-and-blood son half the time. If she ever found herself with a dozen extra cookies lying around, they would end up at Carter’s house long before they’d end up at Cal’s.
Then again, Cal could cook. Carter was hopeless.
“Have you met Winnie?” Cal asked.
“Haven’t had the privilege.”
Cal stayed silent for a moment, then explained. “I think it’s just how I met her that’s throwing me off. It rattled me. I just wasn’t expecting her to suddenly be a part of my life.”
“So she’s unexpected?” Carter said, his voice hinting at something he should know better than to try.
“Give it a rest. You’re as bad as my mother.”
“So what’s wrong with her?”
Cal jerked his head back. “Nothing’s wrong with her,” he said too quickly. “I mean, I don’t even know her.”
“Ask her out this weekend. See if you can find any defects.”
“I’m not asking her out.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t ask women out on dates.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. You eventually relent to Tinder matches when the need gets desperate enough. I forgot your masterful strategy.”
“You don’t date. I don’t date. We’re in the same boat. You’ve got no room to judge.”
The look Carter shot at him from across the weight room let him know he’d crossed a line. But enough time had passed. Cal didn’t need to treat the man with kid gloves any more. He could just as easily decide to move on with his life but, like Cal, he chose not to for personal reasons. It was an unspoken agreement that the men respected this about each other.
“Look, don’t get all touchy. It’s more than that. We’re colleagues. She’s the new editor of The Bloom.”
“Well, shit. That complicates things.”
“Yeah. So even if I wanted to, which I don’t, it can’t go anywhere. But I just have to get her out of my brain. Get a little bit of space between us. I think I’m just worried about my mom.”
“Right,” Carter said, the word dripping with sarcasm.
“I should finish these reps,” Cal said, indicating that the conversation was over. But not before he heard his friend’s final comment.
“There are a lot of things you should do, man.”
Cal shoved his earbuds back in, blasting his music to drown out his friend’s commentary and the devil on his own shoulder.
~-~-~-~-~-~-
When reevaluating her professional goals, Winnie decided she need to add a new item to the list: managing to arrive at a meeting more than twenty-five seconds before it started. She never arrived late, but it occurred to her that she might make a better professional impression if she didn’t always arrive right on the buzzer, breathless and with her hair flying everywhere.
However, she hadn’t quite figured out how to make that happen yet, and so on Wednesday morning, true to character, Winnie slid through the city hall doors exactly twenty-three seconds before the 10 a.m. city council meeting was scheduled to begin.
She scanned the various corridors of the stuffy historic building, feeling completely lost.
New girl! New girl! New girl! the familiar alert blared in her mind. No one sat out front though; the staff of city hall seemed to be as non-existent as the city council’s meeting agenda. She walked down a hallway that she assumed led to the council’s chamber, pulling open the heavy wooden doors at the end of the hallway. Her stomach whirled, in part because of all the first impressions about to be made, but also because it seemed at least feasible that the Chamber of Commerce director might be in attendance at a city council meeting.
Really, Cal could be anywhere. That’s what freaked her out. As a well-known professional in town who worked closely with area businesses, he had a legitimate reason to attend the majority of the events Winnie would be expected to cover, and not knowing when she’d see him next kept her stomach in knots.
When she walked through the heavy wooden doors, however, she realized she hadn’t missed anything at all. Somewhere in the back of the chamber a police officer sat with his arms crossed, looking half bored, half annoyed. She noticed three people sitting up at the front, the city council members presumably, exchange confused glances from behind their respective newspapers. The general seating area was completely empty. No Cal. She felt equal parts relief and disappointment at his absence, a reaction she didn’t approve of.
“Can, uh, can we help you?” the older man at the front of the room, who had to have been at least eighty, asked before Winnie could even take a seat.
“I’m Winnie Briggs, the new editor of The Bloom Times,” she said from the front of the room. Both council members sat up straighter, which she loved. Striking fear in the hearts of public officials was one of the best parts of being a reporter. “I’m here to cover today’s meeting.”
The men looked at each other again.
“Right, well,” the other man said, clearing his throat. “We’re just getting a bit of a late start.”
He glanced over to the councilwoman sitting to his right, who suddenly grabbed her cell phone, bolted out of her chair and rushed out the door Winnie had just entered through.
“You know how mornings can be,” the other man said, laughing nervously.
“Mmmm,” Winnie said, not quite agreeing. She was far from a morning person, but a meeting time was a meeting time.
With no agenda to guide her, Winnie tried to figure out what was going on, and who was missing. She knew from the website that the town had three council members plus the mayor, but there were only three people sitting up front today. She recalled the photo of the mayor she’d seen on the town website, realizing he was the one absent from the meeting.
She sighed, unsure what to make of the bizarre situation. At the very least, it looked like she’d have time to gather her bearings after all.
Seeing as how the police officer was the only other person in the room, she decided it was only polite to sit near him. Plus, if she found herself with a few extra minutes, she might as well get to know a community member.
“I’m lucky I got here early enough to grab a seat, huh?” Winnie joked in the man’s general direction. On an almost daily basis, she relished the fact that being a reporter required her to talk to strangers, because it forced her out of the shyness that could sometimes paralyze her.
Especially with men like him, who would be intimidating in or out of uniform.
Well not out of his uniform. Though surely, that would be intimidating, too. Oh, heaven help her, she was not going to survive this foray into abstinence.
She took in every detail of the man before her: tall, broad and brawny, with thick, close cropped dark hair just starting to show salt and pepper strands around his temples. No wedding ring, she instinctively observed. She resented the part of her brain that always checked for such things. Needless to say, this cop was more Magic Mike than the Barney Fife she might have been expecting in a small, rural town.
What was in the water around here? Bree would never believe her when Winnie told her how much man candy was hidden amongst the cornfields.
Not that it did Winnie any particular good during her sexual hiatus.
The cop smiled at her, a white dazzling smile that seemed to glow amidst his tan skin and the dark stubble already forming on his chin. He seemed like the kind of guy who’d have to shave at least twice a day to keep his face smooth. Testosterone aplenty with this one.
“No, there’s no crowd yet, but something tells me this show is about to get more interesting,” he said, gesturing toward the door through which the councilwoman just fled.
“I’m Carter Conrad,” he said, extending his hand for a firm shake, “Chief of Police here in Bloomsburo.”
The chief? He seemed too young, though he did carry himself with the confidence of a leader.
“And I’m Winnie Briggs, muckraker.”
He laughed at that, releasing her hand, and she felt grateful for the ease she already felt with him, another person she’d be working with regularly, though not always under the best of circumstances. Police officers tended not to welcome visits from local reporters.
In a flash, the very first words Cal spoke to her came to mind.
I’ve got my friend, the police chief, on speed dial.
Naturally, the blond Adonis and the raven Adonis would be best friends. They’d probably been collectively bringing girls, then women, to their knees since junior high.
“I’m assuming you’re required to attend these meetings,” Winnie said.
“Twice a month,” he confirmed, without enthusiasm.
“You’d think the mayor would be required to attend them as well,” she said flatly, earning her a snicker from the handsome chief, even if he was too smart to respond to the dig.
“Well, welcome to town anyway. It’s not a perfect place, but we’re proud of Bloomsburo. It’s a great place to raise a family.”
She probably looked as dumbstruck as she felt at his words.
“Well, good to know, even if I will not be needing it for those purposes anytime soon,” she sputtered, revealing far more than was reasonable or appropriate.
Her cheeks flushed as his eyebrow rose, but in kindness he didn’t say a word.
“Do you have kids then?” she asked, and she saw something unreadable flash across his face.
“Nah, I don’t use the town for those purposes, either,” he said with forced lightness. A story hid behind that delayed response. She made a mental note to ask Evie about his backstory later.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you face to face, as I’m certain that I’ll be contacting you for some story soon,” Winnie said, veering the conversation away from non-existent spouses and children.
“I’d be lying if I said I’ll be providing you with much big, breaking crime news,” he admitted.
“I guess that’s ultimately a good thing. After living in Chicago for four years, I’ve had my fill of sick, twisted crimes.”
He nodded in understanding. She wondered if he’d always been a small-town cop, or if he’d also had a taste of big city life.
“You know, I take that back,” Chief Conrad said. “We do see some action sometimes. Just this morning, a squirrel had the audacity to break into Mabel Murphy’s four-seasons room.”
Winnie laughed. It sounded like the kind of story that Esther Hoffman might call in. Luckily the grandmotherly woman had taken it pretty well yesterday when Winnie called and let her know she would not be driving out to her farm to take pictures of her oddly-striped summer squash. Only time would tell what Esther’s next news tip would be.
“Well, I’ll be sure to hold a spot on the front page for that one. If the squirrel will give me a quote, that is.”
Winnie asked him a few more questions about the Bloomsburo community, but before long, the council doors swung open once more. The squat councilwoman returned, her face flushed red and sweaty from exertion, and she brought with her two contrasting guests.
The first, an older man who, by the look of things, had just rolled out of bed.
His sandy white hair stuck up in odd spikes around his sunburned scalp. A printed, wrinkled button-up shirt stretched to fit over his protruding belly. Its buttons were askew, leaving a long tail on the bottom of one half of the shirt. His cargo shorts seemed like an odd option given his tall white athletic socks and his black Adidas sandals. Though the casual attire bore no resemblance to the suit and tie he wore in his official photo online, Winnie quickly identified the man as Mayor Ralph Simpson.
As strange as his frazzled, unprofessional entrance seemed, even stranger was the woman who accompanied him. Winnie couldn’t decide what was most striking about the woman, who looked about Winnie’s age: the white-blonde hair, the piercing blue eyes, the tall and athletic build, or the ample bust that unnaturally contrasted the firm leanness of the rest of her physique. She wore painted-on white leggings and a soft, silky neon pink halter top that perfectly matched the shade of her three-inch strappy heels.
“That’s Greta Johannsen,” the chief said, gesturing up to the blonde vision at the mayor’s side.
Of course that was her name, seeing how she looked like she emerged from some magical springs in the Alps like a goddess from one of Grimm’s fairytales.
“She’s the mayor of Broadsville,” Chief Conrad continued, referring to the neighboring town.
Winnie did a double take.
“You’re messing with me,” Winnie said in disbelief. She looked at the woman once more, a woman who wouldn’t look out of place on a runway. Winnie felt like a jerk for even having the thought, but the woman was not what you thought of when you thought small town politician. Her youth, style and beauty were quite frankly shocking.
“I’m telling the truth,” the chief maintained. “She was elected two years ago, when she was only twenty-three. Her dad is a very rich and very well-known figure in agribusiness after he patented some special strand of fertilizer. He made a gazillion bucks, and she pretty much gets what she wants around here.”
Cal.
Why would his name pop into her head right now? Why couldn’t she keep him off her mind for five solid minutes? But Winnie couldn’t help but think that if she happened to be a stunning and successful blonde who lived in the area and got whatever she wanted, she’d pick Cal.
Winnie experienced the typical process she went through when an alpha female neared. Nervousness mixed with a desire to be liked, mixed with a splash of inferiority and a touch of nausea. But she’d have to fight through it. This was another professional acquaintance. Granted, not one she’d work with nearly as often as Cal or Chief Conrad, but a colleague nonetheless. Winnie needed to give her the same warm reception she’d give anyone else.
The pair came closer, with the mayor focused up front, not registering Winnie’s presence in the room. Greta did, though, a sign of that distinctly female awareness that women seemed to have around one another. Winnie pulled up her big girl panties and offered Greta a warm smile.
In return, Greta offered only cool disapproval, her eyes flickering over Winnie from head to toe, quickly deeming her inconsequential.
Somehow, the dismissal strengthened Winnie’s resolve. She might feel social anxiety around a woman with Greta’s beauty and confidence, but she didn’t feel professional anxiety around her. She jotted down the very first sentence from the meeting in her reporter’s notebook: What is the Broadsville mayor doing at the Bloomsburo city council meeting, and why did she walk in late with Mayor Simpson?
Winnie knew she wouldn’t get the answer today, but she now had an agenda, even if the council didn’t.
The mayor finally made his way to the podium he should have been at seventeen minutes earlier.
“Well, uh, hmmm,” the man sputtered. “Sorry for the delay, but, well, when the constituency calls, the mayor must answer. Yes, indeed, I had a bit of an… umm… residential emergency this morning, but, uh, rest assured, it was resolved completely, and we have another happy Bloomsburo citizen.”
From his bio on the web, Winnie knew that Simpson had served as mayor of Bloomsburo for more than twenty years. If today’s weirdness indicated his typical behavior, she struggled to see how that was possible. Nonetheless, he grabbed the gravel and slammed it down.
“Let’s get started then.” Mayor Simpson looked out into the chamber, still empty except for Winnie, Chief Conrad, and now Greta Johannsen sitting with perfect posture in the very front row. Winnie instinctively sat up straighter.
When the mayor’s eyes finally met Winnie’s, his expression was hard to read. She merely smiled confidently in his direction, making sure he understood that she was not the type to get scared off.
For the next fifteen minutes, the council did a very poor job of pretending they knew what they were doing, rambling on about new restaurants in town and ideas for a dog park. When the gavel sounded again to end the meeting, they all looked fairly pleased with their performances, but Winnie knew an improvised show when she saw one.
Something was seriously wrong with the Bloomsburo city government, and she had a new mission to figure out exactly what it was.