A Lot Like Home

That’s where she’d messed up. He’d used psychological, chemical, and guerrilla warfare. She’d never stood a chance.

Ten

Tristan scarcely waited until the team had gotten back to the hotel to blast Caleb with his opinion of what had gone down at Ruby’s. “You can’t seriously be thinking of following through with running for mayor. Are you insane?”

“Probably.” Caleb scrubbed at the back of his neck. “But what was I supposed to do, let them hand me the job? It seemed like that’s where it was headed.”

If running for mayor was insane, being the mayor veered into uncharted madness. He couldn’t be the mayor. That was a job for someone with a much clearer sense of how to organize and run things. Like Havana.

Tristan didn’t like that response much. “But who runs for mayor of a town that doesn’t exist?”

“You’ll be great,” Isaiah said firmly and flopped down on the threadbare couch in the lobby of the hotel, though “lobby” was a pretty grand term for the smallish area inside the front door. “There’s no reason to panic.”

“Who’s panicking?” Caleb said with a shrug in hopes that no one would see through the lie. Having an epiphany at the springs about charging ahead hadn’t magically erased his doubt. Just given him the courage to believe he’d eventually get there. “I’ll make a few speeches, and I’ll lose the election with grace. Havana is right. Someone who grew up here should get that job if anyone does.”

“But if she wins, she’ll tear the place apart!” Tristan insisted. “That’s the opposite of what we came here to do.”

“She can’t do that.” His whole entire strategy hinged on the fact. Havana had to win the election in order for all this to shake out like it should though. “You heard her. Everyone has to sell, and all I have to do is give a good enough campaign speech to keep at least one person from saying yes. If she wins, and I plan to make sure of it, that’ll be a good incentive for her to take a step back. See what’s really

best for the town. Then she’ll come around.”

Honestly, he couldn’t have imagined a better way to stack the deck. And the plan had fallen into his lap, thanks to Serenity.

“I think it’s pretty brilliant,” Rowe offered quietly, his head turned slightly to the right as he listened with his good ear.

That guy… Caleb swallowed the enormous amount of gratitude that had gotten lodged in his throat. His brother still had his back even after al-Sadidiq.

Rowe deserved better than a brother who had led him into the worst experience of his life. Soon this whole shopping center fiasco would be a thing of the past, they could get started building a home, and Rowe would have a place to really heal. Put down roots of his own. Caleb would make sure of that too. He owed his brother that and then some.

Hudson jerked his chin. “I’m in. Tell me what I need to do.”

With Hudson dog piling on top of Isaiah and Rowe’s support, that was enough to deflate Marchande and his ire. He dropped onto the couch next to Rowe with a sigh. “Fine. We’re all in. Let’s do this thing. What are we doing?”

“We’re making sure I don’t win this election. Should be a piece of cake.” Caleb snapped his fingers with recently regained confidence, thanks to the support of his guys. That’s what the springs had given him—a solid reminder that he wasn’t in this alone.

He was losing this election for sure.

No one in their right mind would vote for an outsider who couldn’t lead his own strike team, let alone a town. Plus mayors were all old guys who owned car dealerships, not former SEALs with blood on their hands.

That’s where Havana had gotten it wrong. He didn’t have a complex that made him overly eager to fix everything in order to get a dose of hero worship or some such nonsense. Quite the opposite. The marks on his soul demanded retribution. He sought redemption for his own sins, not a platform to stand on as he basked in accolades.

Regardless, he still ended up standing on a platform later that week, surrounded by fifty of Superstition Springs’ finest folks as he kicked off his campaign for mayor. The platform was more of a makeshift wooden dais in the corner of Ruby’s, but he didn’t treat it like anything less than it was—his first opportunity to show everyone that Havana was the better candidate.

She’d blown in with her slick fiancé about ten minutes after Caleb and his team had arrived. He pretended he wasn’t watching her or that his pulse hadn’t kicked up a fuss the moment his senses registered her in the room. Which was instantaneous. It was like he could feel her on his skin even when she was half a room away.

Speaking of slick fiancés… Havana’s crossed over and plunked down in front of Caleb to stick his hand out. “I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Damian Scott.”

Caleb braced for a limp handshake and to hate the guy deep in his gut. But Scott’s grip was firm and purposeful, plus he had a genuineness about him that said he was a straight shooter. “Hardy. Caleb Hardy.”

“Nice to meet you. Thank you for your service overseas. Glad you made it back in one piece,” Scott said with absolute sincerity. “I know a couple of guys out of Fort Hood who weren’t so fortunate. Landmines. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Dang it, he didn’t want to like Damian Scott, but he couldn’t deny the guy seemed legit. And why shouldn’t he like him? Because he was engaged to a woman Caleb couldn’t stop thinking about? If anything, he should be dancing a jig that they were a couple. Saved him from having to come up with a different excuse to stay away from his opponent.

Red hair flashed in his peripheral vision as Havana joined her fiancé, aiming a somewhat pained smile in Caleb’s direction. She made a move as if to get a little closer to Scott, but he didn’t automatically reach out to engulf her in his embrace or try to hold her hand. It made for an awkward moment as she realized she’d overstepped her boundaries and then hastily retreated. A half second later, her fiancé figured out what she’d been going for and stuck his arm out too late.

Wow. They were really uncomfortable with public displays of affection. He kind of hurt for them for a second. If Havana had been his fiancé, they’d have done that dance so many times it would be second nature. Caleb had zero issue with affection, public or otherwise. In fact, it was a requirement in his mind.