Page 5 of Wildly Yours (Owl Creek #3)

A fter locking up, I drag my feet the four blocks between the store and Town Hall. I’ve never wanted to avoid my official duties more than I do today. Seven years have passed since I last had a real conversation with Cody. Seven years since everything fell apart between us—since he broke us.

My stomach is churning as I walk through the front door and greet Meredith. She’s our new administrator and we seem to be developing a good rapport.

“Chocolate cake?”

“What?”

“Want a piece of chocolate cake? I baked it last night.”

My stomach says no but my heart says yes. I try to smile at her as I accept a slice.

“We got a records request today from Blake Johnson. He’s digging into your use of funds for the library.”

“Why does that man hate libraries so much?”

“I heard from a lady in my choir that he thinks it was an abuse of funds.”

“Abuse of— you know what, I don’t want to talk about it.

Thank you for letting me know about his request. He’s welcome to read every transcript of every meeting we had, every email we sent.

I hope he finds that we did everything by the book.

Beyond the book if you ask me. Do you know I held extra public hearings, beyond what is required in the local statutes? ”

Meredith shrugs as she hands me a stack of messages.

I carry them to my office and try to stay focused on my job, but my mind keeps wandering back to Cody.

What on earth could he want to talk to me about?

He stays up on the mountain and I stay down here.

Besides a few awkward encounters when I've hung out with his family, we've managed to keep our distance all these years.

I hang up my coat, tuck my cake into a drawer for later, take a quick look at my hair, and straighten up my desk. Keeping my hands busy is an attempt to keep my mind from going too far down some dangerous rabbit holes.

Rabbit holes like thinking of the night he said he was going away for a little while, without any mention of where, with who, or for how long.

Rabbit holes like the dark and twisty one that has played no small part in my revenge fantasies, where I kidnap him and get answers to what happened all those years ago.

My mind is still deep in the well worn threads of the story I tell myself, when I hear his heavy work boots slap against the floor of the hall outside my office.

My skin prickles with fear and desire, and I do a quick sniff test to make sure I put on enough deodorant today.

Cody is going to make me work up a sweat just trying to stay calm, but I can’t let him get to me.

I don’t want him to know he has that power over me—still.

He stands in my open doorway and knocks on the old wooden frame.

I gesture to the chair in front of my desk, and will my nerves to calm down by quickly counting five things I see, four that I hear, and three that I feel.

“So this is where you do your other job, huh?”

I force my face to stay neutral as he slides his muscle-bound frame into the wooden chair. I wonder if I need to pull out something that is more his size when I think better of it. Maybe it will keep the meeting shorter.

I fold my hands in front of me on the desk. “How can I help you today?”

“Look, Serena, I know we haven’t been on the best of terms the last several years.”

“Best of terms? Are you being serious?”

So much for staying calm and in control. Damn him.

He throws his hands up in a way that men do when they are out of their depth with a woman.

“Look, this is not how— I don’t know— I need your help.”

The thing about Cody is that no matter how long it’s been since we last spoke, I know he doesn’t like to ask for help. I know because we have that in common. We have a lot in common.

I try to sweeten my voice. Fake it until you make it, right?

“What do you need my help with? You seem to manage just fine up there on the mountain alone.”

He shifts in his chair, his eyes scanning my face.

I know he’s looking for a sign that I’m going to lash out, but I won’t give him the pleasure of seeing me mad.

I can’t. If I can just stay calm, he won’t have any power over me.

I mentally prepare the safety box in my mind in case I need to shove thoughts inside and lock them up tight.

A few years ago, I read in a book about negotiating that the first one who speaks, loses. I’m trying to channel my inner master negotiator and remain silent. I want to say something, but it’s working. I’m calming down, and he’s leaning forward.

“Well as you know, our park has been registered as a quiet designation for three years now. And we’ve seen a major uptick in visitors to the park and town as a result.”

“Yes, the town of Owl Creek owes you a big thank you for working to get that designation. Perhaps I can mention it in my speech for the opening of the summer season?”

He chuckles under his breath.

“That same designation, or the reason we achieved it, is also the reason I can do my research on a rare migrating bird and some frogs, which are indicator species.”

“Refresh my memory on what an indicator species is.”

Yes! Stay neutral. You can do this.

“An indicator species is an organism…”

Cody’s gravelly baritone voice lulls me like a bard weaving his tales.

“…whose presence, absence, or abundance demonstrates the health of an ecosystem because they are so sensitive to changes.”

I watch his mouth move as he talks about the thing he loves the most—nature. His face is softening and his body is relaxing into the chair while I feel myself being pulled in, mesmerized by his voice, his mouth, his heartbreakingly handsome face.

“You may not know this, but I’m recording the sounds of the forest and the changes in populations of the forest.”

I take a deep breath. This is his life’s work, and as angry as I still am at him, I don’t want to diminish that. The truth is I always admired him for this.

“Quite a while ago I started picking up some odd sounds in my recordings, and it took me months to figure it out. Well I finally did because it has gotten so bad it’s like a bull horn in the microphones.”

I notice my body has leaned forward, because just like old times he’s reeled me in with his passion. Seven years we have avoided each other, and now it’s like we’re back to being buddies who lay under the maple tree by the lake while he waxes on about the mating patterns of jumping mice.

He’s glowing as he is talking about his research.

About the animals he cares so much about.

About the forest he lives in, breathes, and would die for.

My guts start warring. I want to be angry at him.

I want to hang onto the comfort of our feud.

The comfort of knowing where we stand with each other, and of being the one who was harmed.

But sitting across from him while his mountain man exterior is being crushed against the soft center that I know lives inside him, doesn’t make it easy to stay in my comfort zone.

“Mr. Miller has allowed a small company of modern day prospectors to reopen the mines on his land. They’re looking for rare earth minerals for use in modern technology, and they're making a mess of everything. Their lights are on twenty four hours a day, which impacts not only the movement patterns of birds, but also the insects they depend on for food. Those same insects impact the local maternal bat colony, which you also likely know—”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“I need help with funding to purchase Mr. Miller’s land for the park and grandfather him into the deal so he and his wife can stay living there.”

I lean back in my chair as the spell he cast on me with his words and passion is broken.

Cody is a constituent. A community member.

Not my best friend. Not the man I pined for, for years.

He came to me because of money. And the one person in town who is running a campaign against me is trying to convince everyone in Owl Creek that I mismanage community funds.

How can I trust that if I help Cody, this won’t blow up in my face come election day?

“With respect Mr. Barone—”

His face reddens like I slapped him.

“Mr. Barone? Really? We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

He starts tapping his hand on his knee.

“Knew. We knew each other. And now you are sitting in front of me not because you are visiting an old friend, but because you are a community member asking for help from the city on a special project. So why not show you the respect the nature and level of familiarity our relationship dictates, and call you Mr. Barone?”

His jaw clenches under his scruff and I watch the muscles work. I flash quickly to the last time we were together. The night he told me he was leaving to figure something out. I blink a couple times and focus on the pen on my desk.

Blue. Ball point. Missing cap. Off-brand.

“This isn’t a special project. This could affect the entire town.

I’ve already heard multiple complaints from the early season tourists that it isn’t quiet.

They’ve threatened to contact the organization that awards that certificate.

This is a huge deal for our local economy.

People depend on tourist income in this town. ”

“I’m fully aware of our tourist economy.”

“So then you know that this could kill that.”

“But is it possible that the mining operation could more than make up for that with an increase in jobs?”

“I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”

“I have to look at all the angles, especially given the threat to my position. My opponent has been baselessly claiming that I misused funds to save the library last fall. I have to be extra careful about what I do and say, especially around the public purse. And besides, I’m not sure there is anything the town can do. Do we even have jurisdiction?”

“That’s where it gets a little squirrely.”

Even though we’ve both lived most of our lives in this town, and even though I’m the mayor and he’s the park ranger, neither one of us knows the giant mess that is the boundaries and jurisdiction of the mountainside park where he works and lives.

But he’s right, this could jeopardize everything both of us are trying to do for Owl Creek.

This could make my campaign that much harder to run if people start complaining about their loss of income.

Folks in this town depend on that seasonal money to stay afloat.

Hell, my family’s business needs tourists to buy locally made artisanal foods and crafts to stay afloat.

We go through the cabinets that are lining the hallway to search for any documents that can help him, discovering a small handful that date back to the last land acquisition.

“I’ll look into what we have downstairs and get back to you. Can you give me two days?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Meredith makes copies of all the files we discovered as I look over any phone messages I can deal with tomorrow.

Now that we’ve dug everything up we can find, there’s an awkward silence hanging in the air.

I don’t know why he isn’t leaving. He got as much as I could give him until I can dig through the basement, but he’s still here, his presence as large in my office as it is in my mind.

I feel him looking at the back of my head while I stuff the messages in my bag and open the drawer with the cake. I spin around looking for a clean tupperware I might have tucked away somewhere when his voice startles me.

“Thanks for your help.”

We make eye contact for a split second before my body is awash with an awkward feeling. It felt good to help him, and I don't want to admit it, so I nod.

“Cake?” I hold the cake out toward him.

Because that isn’t weird.

“I don’t want to take it. I know how much you like cake.”

“I can’t find anything to put it in and I don’t want to eat it before I have dinner.”

My hand is still holding the cake between us, willing him to take it if only so I can stop feeling weird. So much like old times.

He grabs the cake and just as I release my hand, my finger brushes against his. The touch isn’t electric—not like a shock, anyway. It’s like I just touched my grounding wire after years of being dangerously ungrounded.

Damn Cody Barone.

“So Blake Johnson is going after you, huh?”

That’s one way to kill the mood. Or whatever that was.

“He seems to think I’m not representing the community I was elected to serve.

But after five public hearings on the library, we made a decision.

Not once did he speak up at those meetings.

Not once did he offer an alternative solution.

But now he is making the use of rainy day funds for the library one of his main talking points. ”

“I think I can help you out.”

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean, why? It’s the least I can…”

“Finish that sentence, Cody.”

“So now we’re back on a first name basis?”

Heat is taking over my body. In the last hour, I’ve been physically close to Cody for longer than I have for nearly a decade, and I feel memories flush through my system.

Anger is filling in the cracks that have been there since he smashed me open seven years ago.

When he withdrew the breath from my lungs with his words.

I want to know why he turned his back on me.

“Finish the sentence.”

I watch his face contort again. If I weren’t straddling the space between rage and exasperation, I would find this funny. He’s out of his depth and I like it.

“Look. Serena, I…”

I cross my arms over my chest, waiting. Just as he opens his mouth to apologize, to explain why he did what he did, Meredith walks in and interrupts us.

“I’m heading out. Do you need anything else before I go?”

She looks between Cody and I, and takes a step back as if she can feel the energy that is crackling between us.

“Thanks Meredith. That’s it for the day.”

She backs out of my office in a hurry, and I set my gaze back on Cody. But instead of finishing the conversation, he’s stuffing the documents in his coat pocket and following Meredith out the door. Just as he is about to pass out of my sight he turns back around.

“I look forward to seeing you again.” His head dips down like he’s trying to find something he dropped. “You know, with the files.”