He frowned, running a hand over the pressed front of his blue button-up. It made his tawny eyes pop. “A tie?”
India laughed. “You make it sou
nd like a dirty word.”
He chuckled again, eyes sparkling. “It is. They’re damn uncomfortable.”
“Then don’t wear one,” she said, shaking her head. Had he always been this handsome? Surely not. She would have remembered it. Yes, all of her memories of Brody Wallace were pleasant, but not heart thumping. Not like this.
She wasn’t aware of the fact that they were staring at each other, not really, not until Miss Francis cleared her throat.
“Well, I should let you get back to doing whatever you’re doing,” she said, taking two steps back and colliding with a person behind her. “Sorry,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, and then stepping forward again.
Brody’s hands gripped her shoulders. “We’ll try to keep it quiet, so you can study. Chances are, no one will turn up.” He squeezed once, and let her go.
Miss Francis laughed then. “You take a gander out that window, boy. I’d say we’re heading for standing room only.”
India glanced out the front window to see the parking lot filling up. “Good luck,” she whispered.
“Wouldn’t need luck if I had coffee,” he said, smiling widely.
With a sigh, she handed him her coffee. “You owe me.”
He took the cup, his smile slow and sweet. “I do. And I look forward to repaying you.”
* * *
BRODY TOOK THE tie off and handed it back to the volunteer who had lent it to him an hour ago. He’d smiled for the cameras, answered dozens of questions and, he hoped, sounded like a respectable candidate for mayor. When his return to help his father came up, talk of his daughters and his divorce were briefly touched on. He was single and had three daughters—both were public knowledge. Dating status and what he might be looking for in a new wife were questions he laughed off.
He had no interest in dating right now.
With one exception.
“You did well,” Miss Francis said. “Real well. It helps that you’re so damn cute.”
He shook his head. “What’s next?”
“The Monarch Festival committee is meeting in three days. Might be a good idea for you to show up, do what you can to make sure it’s back on track, and ingratiate yourself with those on the committee. Mostly women, of course, but it can’t hurt. Many a man listens to his wife when behind closed doors.” She grinned. “You up for it?”
He nodded. “Sure. I’m a fan of the cattle drive as much as anyone, but the Monarch Festival kicking it off always made us unique. We need to get that back.”
“Glad you agree. Like I said, Friday, ten o’clock, out at Fire Gorge Ranch. Seems Mrs. Boone and Widow Lewis are co-chairs for the committee this year.”
He stared at her. “You want me to set foot on Woodrow Boone’s property? He might shoot first and ask questions later.”
“It’s an open meeting, advertised to the public. The committee needs people—most committees do. Especially if they’re going to try to get this in the works in four weeks’ time.” Miss Francis eyed his coffee cup. “Helped?”
He grinned, his gaze sweeping the library. No sign of India. A small part of him had hoped she’d listened in, maybe even been a little impressed.
“She’s still here,” Miss Francis said. “A gentleman would go buy her a coffee.” She paused. “Then leave the girl alone. You need to keep your head on straight, Brody Wallace. I’ve seen the way you look at India, and I’d advise you to wait until the election is over before you start courting her.”
“I’ve no plans to court her,” he whispered loudly, vehemently.
Miss Francis rolled her eyes. “I’m old, boy, not blind. I know how long you’ve been sweet on her and how long you’ve kept it a secret. All I’m saying is, a few more months won’t hurt a thing. I’ll see you Friday.” She walked away before he could correct her.
He stood there, staring at the bookshelves, racking his brain for a way to set Miss Francis straight. “Damn,” he mumbled. Could he? If he were smart, he’d do exactly what she said.
He set out, bought India her coffee and headed back—determined to do just as Miss Francis suggested.