Chapter 7
Noah
I ’m cooling down after my early-morning run by jogging down Main Street. Just like yesterday, Paisley is sitting on her patio sipping from her polka-dot mug. Her unruly curls are swept up off her face in a messy bun, and she’s wearing pale blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a fluffy-looking sweater. She looks cute as hell. But it’s knowing what she has on under the PJs that has me imagining things I shouldn’t. That cute little silk number she wears to bed every night.
I stop on my front lawn and take hold of the fence as I stretch, being mindful of my ankle. It took me a whole year to recover from the bullet wound that destroyed my Achilles. At last, I can finally do some light running. The realization that I will never play football again continues to weigh me down. There was no contingency plan for me. I know I should have had one, but part of me thought I was invincible. That I wouldn’t need one. And now I only have myself to blame for the emptiness I feel. I put my career above everything: family, relationships, education. I was consumed with being the best that I could be, and I was. Until the loud pop that brought me to the ground instantly, pain splitting through my ankle. When our physio explained I would never play again, I thought my life was over. If I had just stayed out of that bar. If I had walked away when he called my name. At first, I thought it was a case of wrong place, wrong time. But when I heard his friend call his name, I knew it was a targeted attack. Her father had come through with his threat to destroy me.
I can feel Paisley watching me, and I glance over in her direction, catching her. She might like to act as if she hates me, but I know under all that hostility, something still lingers between us. My lips turn up at the side in a questioning smirk. They say, “You want your hands on this again, don’t you, baby?”
“Fine morning, isn’t it?” I offer her a wave and a cheeky smile.
“It was.” She stands, glaring daggers in my direction, and I can’t help but laugh. She won’t even have a simple conversation with me. The woman is as infuriating as she is beautiful. I know I fucked up when I left her without a word, but what’s worse, ripping the band-aid off or a sad goodbye? We both knew when we started hooking up that summer, what we had couldn’t ever go anywhere. I had a career to go back to. People who relied on me. And she was a girl I never should have touched in the first place. What we had was fucking hot, but I shouldn’t have ever let it go as far as I did. That’s the problem. When it comes to her, I always go too far. And we both paid for it.
As I finish stretching, a familiar voice catches my attention before I head inside.
“Mr. Harrington,” Mrs. Rashford hollers from across the street. She has a blonde lady with her, and she grabs her arm as she crosses the road, hurrying toward me. The two women are wearing white tennis outfits and holding rackets, as if they just finished a match. “So glad I caught you. This is Whitney.” She presents the shy-looking girl in my direction.
“Hi,” I offer, not having to guess why I’m being stopped this morning.
She smiles sweetly, if not a little uncomfortably.
“Your casserole was delicious. I can grab the dish if that’s what you’re after?” I say, hoping to end this conversation quickly. I’m covered in sweat and ready for a hot shower.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, dear; it’s a family recipe. Whitney can make it as well, and it’s every bit as nice as mine. She’s not just a talented vet, but skilled in the kitchen as well.”
“I’ll have to test it out at some point.” I plaster a polite smile on my face.
“What are you doing on Saturday night?” the old woman asks, her thin brow raised in interest.
I try to think on my feet, but I’ve got nothing. “Ah, nothing at this stage.”
Her lips turn up at the side, pleased with my answer. “Oh, that’s not good enough. A catch like you should have a date on the most romantic day of the year.”
I look between the two of them, puzzled as to what she’s on about. Whitney shifts uncomfortably. But her nan beams back at me like she’s won the lotto.
“Nan, stop,” Whitney says through clenched teeth. If she wasn’t feeling uneasy earlier, she definitely is now.
The old lady grins at me, a glint of mischief in her cloudy eyes. “Whitney is free as well. How serendipitous. You should have a Valentine’s night out together.”
Poor Whitney blushes a deep shade of beetroot red. She looks completely embarrassed by her pushy relative. And she should be, this woman is relentless. I glance toward Paisley’s house and notice her still lingering in the doorway. A date with someone else isn’t a terrible idea. I have nothing better to do, and Whitney seems like a nice girl. “What do you say, Whitney, you want to have dinner Saturday night? I’ve been told Villa Bella Cucina in Bluewater Beach is a must-try. A friend of mine runs it. I’m sure I could swing us a table even on the busiest night of the year.”
“That sounds really nice.” She smiles sweetly, relief washing over her.
Mrs. Rashford looks pleased with herself and claps her hands together. “You can pick her up at six. This is her phone number, and she lives right across the street. The white house next to me.” She points it out, so I know exactly what she’s talking about, even though she already gave me the street tour.
Whitney rolls her eyes at her nan, and I can’t help but chuckle at the two of them. She must drive her granddaughter insane. “See you then.” A smirk plays on my lips as I watch her lead her nan away, their chatter fading behind the gate.
A door slams behind me, and when I glance back in her direction, Paisley’s gone. I’m not sure if she heard that conversation or not, but it couldn’t hurt my cause if she did.
Nostalgia engulfs me as I enter the mayor’s office through the glass sliding doors. The last time I was here, I had a can of red spray paint in hand and a bottle of bourbon. I was also only seventeen, but I wanted my father to pay for destroying our family and thought somehow that vandalizing his precious office would do that. If the boys didn’t find me and drag my sorry drunk ass out of here, my life could have gone very differently.
Margo Parish, the chick who dropped in to my place the other day, greets me with an outstretched hand, ready for me to shake. Her perfectly manicured nails are a deep shade of purple that coordinates with her pantsuit, her hair slicked back on the sides, and her handshake firm. She gives off a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe that I appreciate.
“Mr. Harrington, thanks for meeting with me to go over options for your campaign. I was so thrilled when you called.” She shows me through an open door, a twinkle in her eye that tells me she’s not bullshitting.
“I’m glad I have the opportunity to be here.” Taking a seat across from her, I lean back and relax in the plush leather office chair located in the central boardroom at the mayor’s office.
This room hasn’t changed a bit in seventeen years. As a kid I sat in this very office looking up at my father like he was some kind of superhero. This place has less shine now that I know the truth. What must have really been going on in these rooms. It also saddens me to think the last time I saw him was right here in this office. Everything he must have gone through, from being arrested to his court dates, and he faced it all alone. Because my mother and I thought he screwed us over. That’s what the police officers told us. It was all there in black and white for us to see where he had taken the city’s money, taken our money, all in an attempt to pay the Rebel Raiders’ bribes. From everything we could see, they had a firm hold on him, and their protection came at a high cost. This town was basically being led by the biggest biker gang this side of the border. But it was all fabricated. The evidence is clear in the documents he left me. Not that Parker and I have had time to go over it all yet, but from what I can make out, someone was benefiting from the city, and it wasn’t my father.
“Susanne, can you fix Mr. Harrington a coffee?” Margo calls to a young girl on reception, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Black, no sugar,” I offer with a smile as the girl scurries off after giving me the once-over.
Margo’s lips turn up at the sides as she assesses me. She has a pretty smile, polite and guarded but pretty. “This meeting will be a little less formal because we approached you. From your earlier call, I assume you’re considering running?”
“Sure am.” I nod, a calculating gleam in my eye. “I’ve had time to think it over, and swapping the ball for City Hall could be my ticket back to the spotlight. Let’s face it, my adoring fans have missed me.” I chuckle. Being mayor is a whole new kind of power, and I’m ready to claw my way back to the top by any means necessary.
She steeples her hands in front of her. “Perfect, the spotlight suits you. Let’s begin then. Tell me about your background and experience in leadership roles?”
“With my experience as an NFL player, I have extensive leadership involvement, including four years as captain of the Jacksonville Jaguars. Effective leadership requires qualities such as teamwork, discipline, and resilience. Having all of those is something I take pride in.”
“As soon as I met you, I knew you would be the ideal candidate. But after our conversation the other day, what made you decide to call me?”
“I thought we would make a good team.” I smile, knowing I’m winning her over easily. This shy little thing won’t know what hit her working with me.
She nods. “I enjoy making men powerful, Noah. And I can tell already you’re just the kind of man for this job. Together, we could change this town for the better. I have a strong vision for this town. Not many people know this about me, but I took on my role as campaign manager because this town holds a special place in my heart, and I could see what was happening to our sweet little town under the reign of some of our past leaders. Not mentioning any names. You would be disgusted if you knew. I have a vision to clean up this town. I’m looking for the right man to help me.”
She might not be the shy little thing I thought. She has a determination about her that I like. “I may not have ever considered this role before we met, but I’ve been consumed by the idea ever since,” I admit, a hint of desperation creeping into my voice. I need this. “And just between you and me, I need something new to obsess over, to divert attention away from the emptiness. After years of being focused on nothing but winning, there’s a gaping hole left in my life. This may be my chance to fill that void, to wield power once again and reshape my destiny.” It also might be the only way to get the vengeance I need to clear my family name. But that I leave out. The fewer people who know my real reason for running the better.
She smiles, sugary sweet, and I know she’s seeing exactly what I am. I’m going to be the next mayor of Deception Bay. “What is your vision for Deception Bay if elected as mayor?”
“My goal for our city is to create an inclusive and prosperous environment where all residents can thrive. My priority is to support initiatives that boost economic growth, enhance education and job opportunities, improve public safety, and foster community engagement.”
She nods along, taking notes. “What are your top priorities for addressing the needs and challenges facing our community? And how do you plan to engage with residents and stakeholders to develop and implement your vision?”
“I am fully committed to attentively listening to our residents’ concerns and aspirations and taking collective action to tackle them. With a focus on transparency and accountability, my administration will ensure that everyone has a voice in shaping our city’s future.”
“Spoken like a true politician. You were born for this role, Noah. I can’t tell you how happy I am to have found you.”
“Don’t forget my father was in office for most of my childhood. I’ve heard more public addresses than any child should have to suffer through. It was the only way he communicated.”
“That must have been difficult for a boy.” Her businesslike demeanor softens.
“My father was— Until he was disgraced, my father was a great man that this town adored. I know he destroyed his reputation, but before that, he truly was trying to change this town for the best. I guess he let the fame go to his head. He began to think he was untouchable. He learned the hard way that no one is,” I say, not able to help the bitterness that creeps into my voice.
“How will you avoid the same fate?” she asks more seriously. “I’ve heard the rumors. Are they true?”
I knew this would come up. It’s been a year, and the whispers have only just settled down. When you’re as big a name as I was, you can’t just disappear with an injury that didn’t happen on the field. Fans don’t buy it, no matter how good your PR people are. And mine were the best. “Depends on what you heard.”
“How about this instead. I know fame, it can change a person. I don’t buy into it. I like to think myself humble, using my position for the good of others, not myself.”
“Good answer. Guess I better have that one recorded.”
“You’re going to come up against it a lot through this campaign. The resilience you gained from playing NFL will be your foundation; this job can be ruthless, and without strength, it can destroy a person. I’ve seen it before.”
“I’m not scared of this town or what its people can say about me or my father. I’m sure I have already heard worse.”
A smile appears on her face. “Smart. And you’re going to need to be. You’re running against Beckett Prescott. His family owns a forty-nine percent share of the media in the Savanah area, and we both know what that means.” The way she says his name with so much disgust, I feel it right through to my core.
I gape back at her, feeling like I’ve just taken a blindside hit. It’s as if she’s intercepted my thoughts, leaving me scrambling for a game plan. The Prescotts fucking hate me after what happened, and I already know they will play dirty, it’s all they know. Running a hand over my stubble, I consider how badly I want this. If there could be another way to clear my father’s name. If I wanted to, I could quietly leave right now and only my closest friends would know I’d even considered it. But I want this, redemption for the tarnished legacy of my family name. And for my hasty exit from my football career. “I won’t let Beckett Prescott take that from me. His family has enough control of this town. The way they use their media avenues to manipulate makes me sick.”
“I know it’s not ideal. But this is why I chose you. If anyone has a chance at beating that conceited asshole, it’s you. Excuse my French.” The tremble of Margo’s voice is subtle, but it’s there, and I wonder what Beckett did to her. “People love you. They respect you and what you did for your team, you have their affections already. We just need to show them what you could do for this town, and you have already won. Beckett will lose this for himself. Personally, I have no idea why they chose him out of anyone in the Prescott family to run.”
“Let’s kick his ass,” I say with a smirk, a flicker of defiance igniting in my eyes. It’s about time someone took that family down a notch. After what they did to the Alexanders last year, they deserve to lose spectacularly.
Her grin matches mine. I like this chick already. “That’s the attitude. Mayor Michaels is one-hundred percent behind you already. With his endorsement, your campaign will receive a significant boost, leveraging his stellar reputation for success. You’re a shoe in. Now tell me what really happened to end your career.”
I sigh heavily. “A drunken celebration gone wrong,” I admit. That’s the story my PR people gave anyway, and I’m sticking with it.
“My lips are sealed. My job isn’t just to support you, it’s to make sure your secrets stay that way. You have no idea the stuff I know about the men who walked through this place before you. But you need to be upfront with me so I can. Is there anything else I should know? Illegitimate children that might come forward? Drug use? Anything illegal at all?”
I’ve done things I’ve never told a soul about, and I’m not about to start spilling my guts now to a practical stranger. She knows all she needs to. “Not that anyone knows of.”
She raises a brow. “You are one interesting character, Noah Harrington. I look forward to working for you. And just so you know, I’m extremely dedicated to my job. I will do anything you need me to.”
This time the look she gives me is flirtier, and I wonder exactly what her past mayor expected her to do for him. When I first met her, she came across so sweet, but there is something in her eyes now that tells me I got her all wrong on first impression. There is more to Margo. And I know I need to keep my wits about me. From what was on that USB file, I know not to trust anyone within these walls. She looks sweet and innocent, but that doesn’t mean she is.