Page 34 of Call it Reckless

I grinned back. “Not yet.”

“Speeding ticket? Already, Ms. Allen?” Richard Bowen said with a grimace.

“Nice to see you, too, Mayor.” I smiled pleasantly. His attitude didn’t surprise me. “It was a fluke, I assure you. But nice to know your sheriff’s department is keeping the standard high.”

His eyes flitted to Reid. “Ah, yes. I suppose so.” He looked back at me. “Is there something I can do for you today?”

“Well, I believe there’s been a mistake regarding thewarmwelcome you’ve given me.” I held out the notice.

Rich glanced at it, obviously already knowing what I held. “I don’t believe there’s a mistake. I saw it advertised that you and your associate are planning a little party, but you haven’t acquired the proper permit.”

Reid silently held his hand out, and I handed him the paper.

“As long as the celebration is held on private property, there’s no problem,” Reid informed the mayor.

“I’ve heard the media might show up. It sounds like a major event,” Rich insisted.

“I’m flattered you think so,” I drawled. “But it’s still on private property.”

I heard Reid smother a chuckle, sounding more like a cough.

If possible, Rich’s frown became even more pronounced. “That’s not what I meant. While I’m sorry for all that you’ve been through,” he said, actually sounding sincere, “I also don’t want any trouble, and trouble used to follow you like a moth to a flame. In fact, you were usually the flame. I’m merely trying to circumvent a circus of headlines.”

I took a deep breath. I wanted to defend my younger self, but I doubted he would ever listen. The best I could do was change his opinion of the current me. “I want to assure you, Mayor, I’m here to make a positive contribution to the community. As for the grand opening, I have no control over whether the news stations show up. I have not invited them, and it might surprise you, but I don’t want them. I’ve had enough of them myself. As for this paper—”

Squawk!“Hey, loser!” A raspy voice sounded from inside the mayor’s office.

My mouth dropped open. “Is that Sterling?”

Rich’s face turned a shade of pink. “Um…”

“Oh, wow. I haven’t seen him in years. Why do you have him?”

“My mother passed him down to me when she died. Unfortunately, he only settles lately when I bring him into the office with me.”

Annette Bowen had died? I used to cut her grass, then spend an hour or more talking to her over lemonade on her front porch. She’d never judged me, and I had a feeling she’d been a bit of a rebel in her younger days, too.

She’d always bring Sterling, her African Gray parrot she’d named for his beautiful tail feathers, as well as the town, to join us from his cage. He was a marvel, quick to pick up on words and short phrases. I’d been fascinated by him. Mrs. Bowen’s son, not so much.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bowen. I didn’t know. Your mother was a wonderful woman. She was always very kind to me.”

“Thank you.”

Squawk! Woof!

“Did he just bark?” I asked in amazement. “Can I see him?”

“Well, I—”

Without waiting for permission, I pushed past the men and stood at the entrance to the mayor’s office. “Hey, Sterling,” I called to the bird, who was hopping from one perch to another inside his cage. “Remember me? I’m Bristol.”

Sterling paused his movements and cocked his head before bobbing it up and down. “Bristol.” He let out a long catcall.

I laughed, beyond delighted he remembered my name, and felt a bit charmed, even if by a bird.

“Where the hell have you been?” He sounded just like Annette, including the gruff tone from smoking too many cigarettes.

I moved closer to the cage. “Good to see you, too, Sterling.”

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