Midlife Love Story

“Excellent.” She nodded triumphantly. “You’ll get to know her again, and pass what you learn to me so we can get this wedding planned.”

“All right. I’m a man of my word, so we’re in this together. Do you have a schedule?”

Carlotta shook her head, thick brown ringlets danced as she did. “I will have a schedule as soon as Pippa gives me a wedding date or a venue. In the meantime I brought lunch.”

Now I was convinced that the red purse was magical, because she produced a brown bag with the Dark Horse logo on the front. “I appreciate the gesture, but we don’t have anything to discuss.”

“True,” she nodded agreeably. “We can discuss you. What do you do for fun? What do you like about being mayor?” As she asked the questions, she laid out a simple lunch of bison chili cheese fries, salad and sauteed mushrooms.

I blinked at her thoughtful questions. No one asked me what I liked about my job, most of them assumed it was the power or something equally tedious. “For fun, I read mostly. Though I have been known to binge watch documentaries.”

She blinked in surprise. “History? True crime? What kind of documentaries?”

“Those are my favorites,” I answered in surprise.

“Lucky guess. Me too. And being mayor?”

I shrugged because I felt uneasy answering the question, but Carlotta didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive for asking. “I like knowing that the things I do here, bringing in new businesses, getting the streets re-paved, all of those little things help to make everyone’s life a little better whether they know it or not.” That sounded silly.

“I know what you mean. No one thinks of the ribbons tied to candles but without them, they would feel like something is missing. It’s nothing like what you do, but I get it.” She smiled and stood, smoothing her hands over her pretty little dress.

“You provide the details for the most important day of a couple’s life, that’s not nothing Carlotta.”

“Maybe not,” she said and offered me a quick smile before she cleared the desk of our leftover lunch. “But the stop sign you had put in at the corner of Mint Street and North, probably saved a lot of injuries. Not to mention the speed bumps that are now on the school bus routes.”

Her words floored me and filled me with warmth. The fact that anyone else had seen it that way felt special to me. “Thank you for saying that Carlotta.”

She stood and flashed a grin. “Just telling the truth, or should I say facts?” She arched a brow and sent me one final grin before she left my office.

That was a strange encounter, and it was minutes after Carlotta was gone that I realized I hadn’t asked her a thing about herself.

No wonder I’m still single.

Chapter 5

Carlotta

“Another mint julep please.” I rapped my knuckles on the long wooden bar, and blew a stray strand of hair out of my face. This retirement party was determined to be the death of me, and weeks like this made me wish I had an assistant to delegate tasks to, because the wife of the retiree was driving me out of my dang mind.

Grady’s big body created an intimidating shadow over me and I looked up at his thick red beard, bald head and big clear blue eyes. His arms were massive as they folded across his chest, brows arched in concern.

“Rough day?”

I nodded and finished the last sip of my cocktail. “The worst day and the longest week of my life, but I won’t bore you with the details. Let’s just say that it’s a three mint julep kind of day, so please don’t let me have more than that.” Mrs. Rochester was determined to make this the most difficult retirement part in the history of the whole world. The woman had opinions and ideas on everything, no matter how far-fetched. How ridiculous.

Grady flashed that gorgeous smile of his that made all the female bar patrons lose their ability to think straight, and leaned forward on his impressively thick and corded tattooed forearms.

“You got it.” He walked away to get my second drink, leaving me all alone with my thoughts.

It wasn’t just Mrs. Rochester that had contributed to a long and stressful week. It was also my daddy. He’d called to set me up with some fancy pants lawyer from Biloxi, who would, in his words, take care of me. As if I needed some man to take care of me. If that was the case, I would have let them set me up with some rich, blue-blooded jerk ages ago. No, I needed a man who wanted me with all my curves, flaws and all, not someone who would try to change me to fit their social circle.

No way. Now how, and no thank you.

“Thank you Daddy, but I’m not interested in leaving Carson Creek, and especially not for a stranger.”

His tone was annoyed, perturbed even, like I was some petulant child. “Carlotta you are far too old to still be single. It’s not cute, it’s verging on pathetic. Who will take care of you when you get bored of planning parties?”

I’d sucked in a breath at his words and his tone. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I take care of me. My career more than pays the bills.”