fried pickles. Partly for the message it sent, but also because, as reliable rumor had it, the board members did a fair amount of drinking during meetings. Booze and politicians may go together like mice and cheese, but that didn’t mean I had to encourage it. Even if the fried pickles were delicious.
I stepped inside the pub and paused to let my eyes adjust from sunlight to the dim interior. Dark-paneled walls surrounded a collection of unadorned tables and cozy booths.
“Hey there, Cinderella.”
I spun around at the sound of that voice, and there, behind the glossy yet dinged-up wooden bar of the Palomino Pub, wiping a highball glass with a red checkered towel, stood Prince Charming. His jacket was gone, and now he wore a dark green T-shirt with the white outline of a horse on it. The logo of the Palomino Pub. Wut? Why?
“What are you doing here? Why are you behind the bar?” My voice had a definitive blurt quality to it, tinged with annoyed surprise. Not because I was annoyed he was there. It’s just that I don’t like surprises, and today seemed to be full of them.
Fortunately, he didn’t seem to take offense. His responding smile was all mischief and charm. “I work here. My shift started ten minutes ago.”
“What do you mean you work here? Since when?” Still blurting. My people skills were sadly lacking today.
“Since yesterday. I’m Leo, by the way. And if you don’t mind me asking, why are you wearing your sister’s shoes if they don’t fit?”
“Because they go with the suit, which is also my sister’s.” I was feeling oddly defensive for no discernable reason. His questions were completely logical. It’s just that my answers were so . . . stupid. I don’t like feeling stupid.
“Why are you wearing your sister’s suit?”
“Because I’m the mayor,” I practically shouted, and even as it came out, I realized that made no sense. I needed to get hold of myself. It wasn’t his presence that had me so edgy, it was that weird private investigator and his crazy idea of a jewel thief running around Wenniway Island. And my first city council meeting. And my shoe in the poo. And, okay fine, his presence, too. Clancy was supposed to be behind the bar. He owned this place, and he was the bartender. No one had told me about a new guy, and news of a cute newcomer was typically a front-page story. How had he gotten hired here without the local gals causing a kerfuffle? And a stampede.
I took a deep breath, a trick I’d had to utilize quite often as a teacher, and tried to gather my thoughts. “Let me start again.” I stepped toward the bar, careful to keep my shoes on, and extended my hand. “I’m Brooke Callaghan. I grew up here, and I’m the new mayor of Trillium Bay.”
He set down the towel and glass, and our palms met in a very ordinary handshake. He was still stupidly handsome, but I could handle it. Because I was a grown-ass woman and not a hormone-saturated teenager.
“The mayor, huh? Interesting.”
“Interesting? In what way?”
His smile stayed relaxed. “Um, just interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever met a mayor before. Especially a barefoot one.” His gaze flicked down to my feet and then traveled back to my face. I felt a flush following the trail of his eyes because it seemed as if he might be flirting with me, but no one ever flirted with me, so it probably wasn’t that. In all honesty, I wouldn’t recognize flirting if it bonked me in the head with a rubber mallet. That ship had long since sailed: the downside of growing up in a small, isolated community. No one bothered to flirt with me anymore.
“Brooke, honey! There you are. Congratulations! I heard Harry turned tail and ran as soon as you stepped into his office.” Dmitri Krushnic stepped out from the small room off to the side of the main bar area where we held our meetings. His generous smile exposed a significant gap between his two front teeth, and he was wearing his beekeeping hat because he always wore his beekeeping hat, but he swept it from his head and bowed before me with a dramatic flourish. It was like being welcomed by a musketeer.
Never one to follow the polite rules of society, Dmitri let his salt-and-pepper hair flow freely past his shoulders, and on all of Wenniway Island, he was one of my most