Page 35 of Riding the High

“Or there’s option three,” Bev says, cutting through my pornographic thoughts.

My eyes snap back to hers.

She grins. “You get creative.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you have exactly eighty-three days left in this probationary period. So, I say the easiest thing to do is just stay married, quietly.” She taps the end of her pen on the desk in thought. “But you might want to come up with a way to do that gracefully, on the off-chance Deputy Digs-a-Lot happens to find out.”

I look up at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck I let any of this happen.

“You know he’s just waiting to find anything to gossip about to the public that proves you’re irresponsible.”

She’s right. Brent would jizz in his too-tight pants to get the word out about me getting drunk and marrying Congressman Danforth’s daughter. Irresponsible?Check.

“How the hell can I do that? I have a daughter, Bev. I won’t fake anything where Mabel is concerned. That’s a hard fucking no.”

Bev leans forward and wags a finger at me.

“That’s up to you. Like I said, get creative. But if you and your new bride can get through the three months, then quietly divorce sometime after your probation and her father’s election are up, you’re covered either way.”

“How so?”

“Either no one even finds out, best-case scenario—though they probably will because you’re the sheriff and her dad’s a congressman. The good news is that by then it’s believable for you to say you fell in love, and maybe you wanted your privacy. Is Ginger shy?”

I start to laugh. “Not a chance.”

“Okay, so maybe you just didn’t want to share the news with anyone. But after a few months you realized you couldn’t make it work. Say you’re too different.”

I nod. “That would make sense.”

“Right, then no one is the wiser, and no one can accuse you of being flaky or irresponsible. Besides, if anyone finds out after the probationary period, it will be way trickier for them to come at you with something personal.”

My phone dings on her desk and I glance at it. It’s an email letting me know the summer camp I wanted to get Mabel into is a bust.

“Three months,” I repeat, the wheels in my head turning. “Late August.”

Bev nods.

“When school starts up again.” I drum my fingers along the arms of my chair. “And after Edward’s primary election.”

I think back to the conversations I’ve had with Ginger over the last few weeks.

Her first summer with no classes. Wanting to earn some extra money. Not wanting to disappoint her father, not wanting anything to change between us.

I pick my phone up, telling myself not to overthink this.

I need you to come over tonight.

VIXEN

You know vows don’t actually say “obey” anymore, right?

Could you please come over tonight? I have an idea I want to run by you.

VIXEN

Last time you had an idea I ended up married.

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