Page 3 of Honey Be Mine
“Yeah, yeah, we know.” Tansy rolled her eyes again.
“Really?” Rosemary pointed at Tansy. “You, who can’t keep your hands off Dane Knudson? Or lips.” She laughed. “I’m gone a couple of years, and I come back to find one sister canoodling with her nemesis and the other sister married and pregnant. Not to mention Aunt Camellia marrying Van. Is there something in the water? Maybe I need to drink bottled water?”
“Oh, please.” But Tansy was laughing, too.
“What’s wrong with falling in love and being happy?” Astrid shrugged, pressing one hand to her stomach. “I, for one, am blissfully happy.”
“When you’re not throwing up.” Tansy wrinkled up her nose.
“When I’m not throwing up.” Astrid sighed, working quickly on the next daisy chain. “Oh, wait. Total change of topic here, but...” She set the daisy chain aside and pointed at the picnic basket. “I didn’t know if you two had seen today’s paper? In the basket. I can only imagine how it’s going to go over with the gossips.”
“Well,nowI’m curious.” Tansy leaned forward, moved a few things around, then pulled out the paper. “What... Ohmygawd. Everett?” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “This is...”
“Everett?” Rosemary perked up. Everett Taggert was her onetime best friend. They’d kept up by video chats for the first couple of years she was in California. Over time, more and more time passed between conversations. But this last year or so, things had been so chaotic, they hadn’t spoken. And she’d missed him. She’d expected to see him at her aunt’s wedding—but he hadn’t come.
“Look.” Tansy turned the paper so Rosemary could see.
There, on the front page of theHill Country Gazette, was Everett’s picture. He looked handsome. That familiar smile. The thick overlong hair that fell forward onto his forehead. The crinkles at the corners of his dark eyes. He’d always had one of the warmest smiles. He looked good... But the headline of the article was not. “‘Honey’s Future Looks Bright—Thanks to Lewis County’s Most Eligible Bachelor,’” Rosemary read aloud, in shock.
“Poor Everett.” Tansy was laughing hard. “He is going to getsomuch grief for this.”
“The article does praise him for all his hard work as the county parks and recreation director.” Astrid went back to her daisy chain. “How committed he is to honoring all the communities’ traditions while finding ways to drum up new tourism opportunities. Mayor Contreras says some really nice things, too. Once you get past the headline, the article is great.”
“Ifyou get past the headline.” Rosemary shook her head.
“Oh no, it’s notjustthe headline. They mention he’s single in the article, too. Once. Or twice. Honestly, it’s equal parts praise for his work ethic and ingenuity and...how handsome and available he is. Along the lines of, whoever catches him will be one lucky lady sort of thing.” Astrid frowned.
Rosemary was mortified on Everett’s behalf.
“They’re really trying to revitalize the paper. They’ve been doing a monthly highlight on the people that serve the county and towns.” Tansy’s laughter was dying off. “I guess they thought going more sensational would help boost sales?”
This might boost paper sales, but at what cost? Small towns loved gossip. The juicier, the better. Not to mention that the eligible-bachelor thing undermined any and all of Everett’s accolades that might be listed in this article. Poor Everett. She’d reach out to him. Something told her they’d both benefit from a mutual pep talk.
“YOUSAIDTHEequipment had beenshotup?” Everett Taggert wasn’t sure whether to be amused or really pissed off. It was fair to say he was feeling both.
“Well, isn’t it?” Dennis Hobart, mayor of Alpine Springs, gestured to the relatively new exercise stations currently speckled with bright green and pink paint.
“Being shot up and being used as paintball targets are...very different things.” Everett crouched, eyeing the splatter marks, and took a deep breath.
“It’s still vandalism, isn’t it? A crime has been committed here, am I right?” The man put his hands on his hips. “Everythingwasshot up—by a paint gun.”
Everett tried not to grit his teeth. Hobart was right, a crime had been committed. But as far as Everett was concerned, a paint marker “gun” versus a legitimate firearm offered two very different levels of threat. “I’m not happy to see the state of the park, Mayor Hobart, but I’m relieved that the damage was done by a paint gun, which is considered sport equipment, not a potentially lethal firearm.” Surely the man could understand there was a significant difference?
Hobart just stared at him.
Everett stood and stared back.
“What do you propose to do about it?” Hobart snapped.
“Get a cleanup crew out here.” He ran a hand along the back of his neck. After Mayor Hobart’s panicked call, Everett had called the local game warden, the county sheriff, and the state highway patrol—determined to pool every resource in the area to prevent things from escalating. Because that’s what should be done when folk were driving around shooting at things close to populated areas. Shooting as in guns.Realguns. Not paint guns. Now, he’d have to make the same phone calls all over again to apologize. This was vandalism and warranted investigation, but it didn’t warrant having the entire county on standby and braced for a serious-threat-level event.
Thank goodness.
“And?” Hobart didn’t seem satisfied. “As the county parks and recreation director, isn’t there moreyoucando?”
“I’ve already reached out to local law enforcement so we can find out who did this.” Today was the start of a new school year, so he was ninety-eight percent certain this was the handiwork of some bored teenagers—probably some last hurrah of summer. But whoever it was, they needed to face consequences. Defacing public property wasn’t okay. Paintballs weren’t lethal, but they sure stung like a sonofabitch if you got hit by one at close range.
“Good.” Hobart nodded. “Good. I won’t stand for this sort of desecration. Not on my watch. You understand?”
