CHAPTER FIFTY Cole
CHAPTER FIFTY
Cole
I button up my suit jacket and look in the mirror.
“You look like Mr. Stacks,” Mabel says to me, mentioning Jamie Foxx’s character in Annie .
“Why thank you,” I reply, raising an eyebrow. “Ready to get your hair done then, Annie?”
She giggles as she hands me her hair tie. I carefully braid her hair and ask myself if I’m doing the right thing, showing up unannounced at Edward’s election results party. Ginger never really answered me this morning when I asked if she wanted us there. But when she got to the Masonic Temple at 5:30 p.m., she messaged to say she was already stressed out by her parents. She told me how her mother had started frantically smoothing out her blouse as soon as she arrived, and that her father was having her parade around to every person from the press to tell them how wonderful he is. I knew in that instant that Mabel and I would have to make an appearance. Mabes is excited because she gets to stay out past her bedtime. Plus she gets to wear a fancy dress. My mom has promised me she’ll pick her up when she gets tired so I can stay until the end of the night.
The Masonic Temple is teeming with people when we arrive. There’s security out front and local media trucks line the street leading up to the ornate building. Luckily for me, being the county sheriff means you’re automatically on most guestlists, which means Mabel and I breeze past the door with ease. I’m stopped by multiple people almost the moment we step into the room, and Mabel instantly makes a little friend who she skips off to play with.
I’ve been here for more than ten minutes when I finally see Ginger through the crowd. Her hair is in a knot at the nape of her neck, and she’s wearing a white blouse tucked into a fucking mouth-watering pencil skirt. Her outfit is finished off with a prim little black cardigan sweater and a string of pearls. This is the neatest I’ve ever seen her. Usually, she’s dressed in all things billowy and wavy, but tonight she sort of looks like a hot buttoned-up librarian, and everything about that makes me want to mess her right the fuck up.
I watch her. I have no idea how long for because I’m mesmerized by her grace, her beauty, and her ability to always put everyone else first, even her self-centered father. She’s smiling and talking to the local news anchor when Mabel spots her and runs over. Ginger looks surprised to see her but doesn’t hesitate to pull her in close and snuggle her tight while she continues her conversation, while also looking around. I wonder if it’s me she’s looking for. I can’t hear what they’re saying but I hear her laugh at something Mabel says to the reporter. Just the sound of it makes me smile. It might be the thing I love the most about Ginger. Her ability to always make me smile no matter the circumstance, no matter where we are, no matter what shit I’m going through.
It’s in this second that I swear to Christ the sky opens up and what feels like lightning crashes down on me. I’m so fucking in love with this woman. In fact, the word love doesn’t even cover it. How can you be only in love with someone who feels like they’ve been a part of you forever? Like you need them to breathe? Ginger has always been in my heart but it’s taken just two months for her to sink into my bones and every goddamn nook and cranny of my soul.
Just like the sunflowers she’s growing along my back fence with Mabel, you can’t miss her. Her personality is larger than life and she commands the attention of everyone around her—but hell, she’s so beautiful you can’t help but want to breathe her in.
Her eyes finally meet mine from across the room and, when they do, she sighs, tips her head to the side and then smiles at me. It’s like maybe, just maybe, she feels the same way when she looks at me as I do her.
She holds up a finger to me to signal she’ll be over in just a moment as her and Mabel start talking to an older couple. The room that’s filling up by the minute explodes with cheer. It’s eight p.m. and the polls have just closed.
I’m so transfixed by her that I don’t hear Brent Wilson post up beside me. I turn to face him and wonder why he’s wearing such a stupid grin on his face. He folds his arms across his chest, waiting for me to speak.
“How’s your night, Brent?” I grit out through my teeth. The last thing I want to do is make small talk with this fucker.
“It’s going pretty good, Cole. And that wife of yours sure looks beautiful, doesn’t she?” he asks with the world’s slyest smile.
I’ve gotten so used to thinking of Ginger as my wife that it takes me a moment to realize that he shouldn’t know this information. When it registers, I feel all the color drain from my face.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“I think we both know what I said, Sheriff. You know, I could’ve broken this news earlier while the polls were still open and given good old Edward Danforth a nice little scandal on primary day.” He takes a moment before pushing on. “But I figured if I showed up and played the doting supporter, he might back me for sheriff when you get the boot.”
I turn to him as rage seeps into my muscles. I flex my fists at my sides to keep from hitting him.
I keep my voice low “The fuck are you threatening to ruin my job? You fucking—”
“Don’t need to threaten to do anything,” He waves me off, all cock and no balls. There are so many people and so much chatter around us, I wonder if anyone would notice if I gave him a knock right in the middle of the crowd.
“You ruined yourself when you got married drunk at two in the morning in Vegas. And I mean very drunk, as that beautiful bride of yours hoisted a close-to-empty bottle of champagne over her head like it was the Stanley Cup.”
“Did you have me followed?” I ask, not understanding how he knows any of this. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Gemma all dressed up and talking to the mayor’s receptionist like she wasn’t out sucking lined-up tequila shots off the Horse and Barrel bar last weekend. I instantly get the feeling she’s in on Brent’s little scheme.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ashby, a true love story for the ages,” he says, framing the air like his words are up in lights.
I grind my molars and will myself to remain calm.
“It’s not unheard of to get married,” I snarl, ready to attack.
“Maybe not. But the way I see it, you have two options here, because shoot—at first I just thought this was a drunken mistake, but I have a feeling by the way you were just looking at her that you may in fact love that woman.” He chuckles, and I’ve never wanted to pummel someone more. “Option one,” he continues. “Step down as sheriff and offer your strong backing for me to take over. Save her the shame her father will lay on her and her reputation.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” I say, my jaw so tense I could pop a tendon.
He ignores me as he opens his mouth to speak again. “Or, come clean with the public and hope for the best. You know, I talk to the public every day to ask the residents of this fine town, the ones who are trying their darndest to have confidence in you, what it is they hope doesn’t happen. Do you know what their answer is nine times out of ten?”
I say nothing, so he presses on.
“Another scandal. Even if it’s just the gossipy kind that paints our sheriff as the least bit flighty or irresponsible. Normally this might not be enough to make them lose faith in you. But considering what happened with our predecessor …”
Brent grins at me.
“Fuck you,” I say. “I won’t be blackmailed into anything, you sleazy little—”
He cuts me off. “Oh you will, or I’ll be leaking this info to the public, and trust me I have my proof.” He blows out a whistle. “And that proof paints your bride in a very unbecoming light. I’m not afraid to drag her and her father’s name through the mud, just for the clout.”
The fucker shrugs and makes a tsk ing sound.
“Laurel Creek’s sheriff, already the most notorious—how should we put it?— bachelor in town,” he says. “Goes to Vegas, gets drunk, and on a whim marries the congressman’s daughter? Then there’s me, the stand-up guy that swooped in and took in your ex when you left her so you could whore around with half of Kentucky. Who will they choose?”
He has it all ass backward, and we both know it. Gemma is the one who slept with every available guy in town after we split up, including this fucker. My mind reels as he continues his fiction.
“Might not be enough to lose the confidence of the fussy townsfolk,” he purrs in a low voice, “but it sure wouldn’t look good for our stand-up congressman or his daughter. Not to mention I doubt Mabel would want to hear her dad got married to her nanny .”
That fucking does it. I push Brent in one movement into the corner of the room against the paneling, away from the crowd. His soft body flops backward and I fist his shirt, ruining his tie in the process.
“If you threaten to hurt my wife or my daughter ever again, I’ll fucking gut you like a fish, and I’ll enjoy every second of it,” I seethe.
Brent shifts underneath me, trying desperately to escape my hold. But he’s no match for the fury coursing through me. His confidence wanes under my hold but he does his best to appear strong. He holds his chin up and I smell the whiskey on his breath.
“I will send it to the press. Anonymously. I should’ve won anyway.” He spits the words out the way a ten-year-old would. Like a sore loser. Actually, fuck that. A ten-year-old would have more class than this guy.
I chuckle. “Oh yeah, and why is that, you piece of shit?”
“I’ve been a cop longer than you, and the only reason you won is because you’re an Ashby,” he says. “Everyone in this town loved your pa and now you’ve got a hockey hero in your family. Not to mention you walk around flashing that shit-eating grin everywhere you go.”
“You’re wrong, Brent,” I retort. “You didn’t win because you’re fake, impulsive, you drink too much, and the town knows I’m the better man for the job.”
I push him back into the wall but then let him go as a few bystanders notice us struggling. I turn, refusing to let him think he has any kind of effect on me.
“You have until tomorrow night,” he calls out after me. “If you haven’t stepped down by then, this will be tomorrow’s paper along with my proof. Photographic proof.”
I flinch. Fuck.
I disappear into the crowd, no direction in mind, just knowing I need to get away from Brent before I do something really newsworthy like pummel him. He’s right in a way—it wouldn’t bode well for Ginger or her father if the town found out about our drunken mistake. And I would never want Mabel or my family to discover our secret from anyone but me.
I realize that I’m searching for Ginger as I make my way through the crowd. I head down a hall where I assume she’ll be waiting with her father beyond the stage.
I stop before I round the corner, hearing their voices, and freeze, not wanting to eavesdrop but wanting to make sure she’s okay.
“It would have been nice if you had let me get ahead of it, Ginger,” I hear Edward say. “I could have prepared something in my speech to welcome the sheriff and his daughter. You know I don’t like surprises.”
I grit my molars and flex my fists to stop myself from moving. Let her handle it. She’s got this.
“I didn’t know they were coming,” Ginger says quietly, and I ask myself why this strong woman that doesn’t take shit from anyone takes this crap from her father.
“Well. that is just unacceptable,” Edward presses on. “I didn’t back him for sheriff, so how do you think it looks—”
“You know what, Dad, for once, I don’t care how it looks,” I hear Ginger say, a little louder this time, with a laugh. It’s enough to stop Edward from speaking. “This is my life ! Until five minutes ago I was happy, surprised that Cole cared enough to come and support you, support me. It’s a pretty romantic gesture if you ask me. But all you can think about is how you can spin it to make yourself look good.”
“In my line of work there can be no surprises,” Edward offers. “And heavens, Ginger, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not about romance. This is about optics. His past is less than favorable where women are—”
“That’s just it, Dad.” I hear her voice shaking and it takes everything in me not to go to her. I have to let her hold her own. She needs this, but more than that, she’s got this. She doesn’t need me to fight her battles. “For once, just once, I wish you thought of how I feel, my happiness, what I want instead of how it makes you look. I don’t work for you, I’m your daughter,” she says defiantly.
“What does that mean? Being a part of this family means bearing a responsibility, Ginger—” Edward tries to reason but she stops him in his tracks.
“There’s no need to rewrite your speech. You’d be best to leave Cole and Mabel out of it. They are here for me .” She sounds as though she’s about to cry. I can hear it in her voice but I’m so fucking proud of her right now, so I stay where I am.
She starts talking again. “Oh, and by the way, I’ve been really fucking happy these last couple months. Cole is incredible and he’s finally made me feel seen . In case you’re interested, which clearly you aren’t. Maybe you just shouldn’t call me until you are, Dad.”
With that, I hear her heels click down the hallway.
That’s my girl.