She let out a sigh. “Pretty likely.”
He grinned at the answer and the fact that he felt her pulse kick up at the admission. “Then let’s go rock the vote.”
“I thought that was bribery, graft, and corruption.”
He scooped up her trash and dropped it in the nearest can. “See? One lunch and I taught you all about small-town politics.”
Chapter Six
When Chloe wasn’t sure of her next move, she did the one thing that allowed her to clear her head. She cleaned. Hard.
And there was plenty to do in Rose Dixon’s two-bedroom bungalow on the edge of Bushrod Square. The house was what people liked to call vintage, or charming, or quaint.
Chloe could see that, but she thought it was a little more in the “grimy” camp.
Morning sun poured into the kitchen the day after her advisory committee victory, highlighting the cracks in the linoleum, streaks on the windows, and some bits of dirt gathered in the corners.
No one would call this house dirty, unless they were…crazy.
Which she was not. Merely safe and clean and organized.
With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, Formula 409 in one hand and a roll of paper towels in the other, she started in the kitchen, soothing herself by scrubbing, rubbing, spraying, and scouring. The whole time, the events of the day before played through her mind.
Shane had been true to his word, and the next vote had gone her way, with no abstaining. There’d been some grumbling from the no’s—and he was right about who they were—but the meeting had broken up after scheduling a follow-up in a week to review what she had ready to take to the town council.
During that time, she’d work on a new version of her presentation, honing her ideas to the very best ones. She’d gotten some input from Blanche and a few other committee members, including architect Andi Rivers, who had some terrific ideas. In fact, she and Andi made plans to have dinner tonight to talk about them.
But not everyone had shown the love for Better Bark.
“You have your work cut out for you, young lady,” the undertaker had said with a subtly ominous tone in his voice.
“Once this is public, you can expect the editorial board of the Banner to oppose the idea,” Ned the Editor, as she’d come to think of him, had warned.
The librarian, Nellie, and Jeannie, the fiery spa owner, stuck close together and left in silence.
Since then, Chloe had visited the grocery store to stock up on cleaning supplies and food. And had reorganized Rose’s pantry, which she hoped didn’t upset the woman. But it had been a hot mess. So had her utensil drawer.
She’d found enough cans of dog food in the pantry to know the homeowner must have had a dog, so if she did end up taking the dog Shane had talked about, it probably wouldn’t be frowned upon by the woman who lived here.
And that thought, like so many others, brought her thoughts back to Shane. He said he’d be in touch, and that was the last she’d heard from him or…a dog named Daisy.
She let out a sigh at the possibility. She agreed that having a dog would show she practiced what she preached. But that’s not why she was seriously considering the idea.
A dog was in the category of “never, ever” in Chloe’s life. And every time she ran smack into one of those walls, she had to suck it up and kick it down.
Otherwise, she’d never be…normal.
Speaking of which, she needed to stop cleaning now.
She opened the cabinet under the sink to put the 409 away, and something scurried in the dark. Chloe gasped, threw the doors closed, and practically fell on her backside scrambling away.
“Oh my God.” She stood up, horrified. “Oh my God, what was that? What was that?”
It was a mouse, and she knew it. Instantly, her whole being itched. She spun around in a full circle, clueless what to do. She had a mouse? Mice? Her hand still pressed to her lips, she backed out of the kitchen, into the living room, toward the front door, and yanked it open to get air and—
“Shane!”
He was climbing out of a pickup truck, a blue baseball cap and sunglasses covering much of his face, but she recognized the body. There was every inch of muscle and man she’d been thinking about…before the mouse.
“Are you okay?” He slammed the driver’s door and took a few steps closer, tipping the brim of the hat a little.
“Mouse,” she managed, shaking off the initial shock of the living creature in her kitchen as she handled the impact of this living creature in her driveway. He wore a dark bluish-purple T-shirt, shorts, and sneakers. Some whiskers created a shadow on hollow cheeks. He was all Saturday sexy and casual and…think, Chloe. “I have a mouse.”