Sweet Hill Homecoming (9 page)

It was a booklet of all the projects she’d undertaken in the past and events she’d thrown. Okay, so it was a glorified scrapbook. She took pictures of the club’s events she was responsible for and particularly proud of over the years. With Jen’s help and a run to Kinkos late last night, the “portfolio” turned out pretty well.

“Certainly this caliber of…” Betsy frowned when she came to the Breast Cancer Awareness Bash that involved mostly pink bikini tops and booty shorts reading, “Celebrating The Top Half,” across the bottom, “party, is more than I expect for Sweet Hill’s Santa’s Sleigh Drive, but there is a lot of work that goes into it. And you are definitely creative.”
 

“And I’m fully dedicated to take on this event, Ms. Delmore.”

She closed the book. “Well, I think you could do some wonderful things, Miss Blake. I’ve heard plenty about your reputation.” Ms. Delmore tilted her head and smiled, her short white bob brushing her jaw and her long necklace dangling.
 

Mia couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Likely bad since everyone else around Sweet Hill still associated her with the Mia from eleven years ago.

“As you know, twenty years ago this event started with a small coat drive in the middle of town square and since then it has grown into an entire day of community giving and holiday festivities. But with the Sheriff’s Department, Fire Station and hospital having all joined forces in the hopes of making it an event for the whole town to enjoy, the burden of planning the event has become too much for my department to orchestrate.” Mrs. Delmore shook her head. “This year they want to do coats, toys
and
food.”

“That’s a lot for a one day event.”

“Which is why it has become a planning nightmare. Each group has very different ideas of how the day should go, and I need one person working as the liason between all the different groups so that the event has a cohesive feel to it.”

“So you’re looking for someone who can work as a go between, take each committees ideas and mesh them so that all of the working parts work together.” Piece of cake.

“Exactly. And I think having you coordinate everything, follow up with all establishments, and make sure everything runs smoothly
and
in the same direction is what’s needed to take this from a quaint charity event to a professionally run fundraiser,” Ms. Delmore said.

“I understand,” Mia nodded, trying not to get her hopes up. But her pulse was pounding a little faster and her brow was a bit dewy with anxiety at the prospect. “I’d be happy to take on this project. I’m a hard worker, I understand how to listen to ideas as well as lead people to the right ideas, and I’m a real people person.” Which was something she firmly believed in.
 

While men were her particular specialty and unfortunately, most of them in Seattle who came into the club had their own agenda, Mia prided herself on being a good listener and thinking outside the box.
 

“Well, then you’re hired!” Ms. Delmore said.
 

Mia about shot up out of her chair. “Really? Just like that?”
 

“We are on a time crunch and you are the first person I have met with who has ever handled events this size. Not to mention, you seem to have the skill set I’m looking for. Now, you’ll have to work fast with each of the coordinators to get up to speed. Think of it more as a partnership, but I’m counting on you to spearhead this event and make it something that the town can be proud of.”

“Will do,” Mia said and Ms. Delmore handed her a packet.
 

“Here is a list of some local shops that have come out to support us in the past, along with their contact information.”

“Are you still holding it in the old church off Maple Avenue?”

“Lord no, we outgrew that space five years ago. Now we use the first floor ballroom of the courthouse. I also secured you the outdoor lawn area right outside, should you outgrow the ballroom. Which you will.”
 

Mia glanced at the list and made some mental notes of what shops to call and stop by.
 

“We want as much of the town involved as possible,” Ms. Delmore continued. “Not only to give back but to come out and have a good time. Some local businesses have already signed up, but there are still several that we would love to have participate, owners who need to hear about what a great opportunity this is to not only give back but also promote their business, etcetera.”

“Do we need volunteers to man some of the booths and help with the actual drives?”

“Yes, and they are the hardest to convince, so be prepared to get creative.”
 

“Creative is my specialty,” Mia said, her mind already racing with ideas. “Are there booths from last year I can use?”

“The city owns ten but we already have twice that registered. Like I said, the event has really grown since you’ve been gone.”
 

Mia did some quick calculation. She’d need booths, nothing fancy, but at least twenty more because that was her goal. Thirty different representatives of local businesses to come out.
 

“What is the budget?” Mia asked, hoping a single booth didn’t cost more than—

“Zero,” Ms. Delmore said. “This whole event is solely based on donations.”

Mia let out a breath. She had an entire town event to plan and no money to do it with. And even if she did have the cash, where the hell would she rent the booths? The nearest party rental store was two towns over. “But,” Ms. Delmore said happily, “the city will pay you for your efforts and time. Three-thousand dollars if this event raises ten-thousand dollars or more.”
 

Mia’s eyes went wide. Three thousand dollars was a huge amount to her and Kyle. That was a nest egg, a term of tuition for Kyle, or rent for three months!

“And, if this event goes well, I’ll take the notion to the board to hire you for a permanent position of Community Event Chair.”

Mia’s mouth hung open. For the first time in, maybe ever, someone was interested in her ideas and in giving her a shot. Ms. Delmore looked at her like she was a capable woman charged with a task that she wouldn’t fail in. And Mia wouldn’t fail. Ms. Delmore, the city, or herself.
 

“You can count on me, ma’am.” Mia took the packet and stood. “Oh, who are the coordinators I’ll be working with?”
 

She sat back in her chair and smiled. “Noelle Randall is heading up the hospital’s committee this year.”

Mia smiled. Noelle was Jen’s older sister and a sweet woman.
 

“Abby McAdams is your contact at the fire station.”
 

Mia checked the urge to roll her eyes. Abby had been two grades ahead of Mia in school and always gave Mia a hard time. Mostly by cracking jokes at her expense and starting unsettling rumors. Mia had been a virgin until senior year but the way Abby talked about her most people assumed Mia was just as promiscuous.
 

Abby also had perfectly curled hair and all her sweater sets matched her sensible heels. She was the kind of woman people respected and listened to.
 

“And over at the Sheriff’s Department you’ll be working with my son, Deputy West.”
 

Mia’s eyes went wide and she fumbled with the packet, almost dropping it. “But I…he’s your son?” Though Mia grew up in Sweet Hill, she barely paid attention to who Tate was back in the day, let alone his parents. Plus, Mia was pretty sure Ms. Delmore had become council woman in the time Mia had been gone.

“Oh, the last name throws everyone off. I kept my maiden name.”
 

Mia nodded dumbly. “I see.”
 

“Great. I trust you will make this an event worth remembering.”
 

Oh, Mia had no doubt about that. Question was, would she be able to power through three weeks with Tatum West and all the sexually charged testosterone that came with him?
 

~

“Ever find out who really graffitied the wall last week?” Sheriff Branch asked Tate, looking up from his desk.
 

“No, but Kyle Blake took responsibility cleaning it up. It’s gone now.”

Branch dropped the paper he was looking at on his desk. “Wasn’t his sister a trouble maker too? Thought they left?”
 

“Well, they moved back and I don’t think Kyle did it,” Tate said.
 

He saw the look in the boy’s eyes. Someone was likely giving him a hard time. But he wasn’t about to tell anyone. That much was clear.
 

Branch just shook his head. “His sister was always pulling stunts too. And that mother of theirs...” Branch’s grumbling died off. His grouchy tone was another thing that had made a more frequent appearance.
 

Tate frowned. In all his years working with Sheriff Branch, he’d never been so annoyed than in that moment. He was judging both Mia and Kyle on zero facts or merit.
 

He had no doubt that if Branch were to have taken the call last week, Kyle would have likely been suspended because Branch wouldn’t have dug into anything further. Not because he was a bad Sheriff, he just wasn’t the same man he used to be. Every day that passed, he seemed to age a year.
 

Tate pushed that gnawing pain aside. When the Sheriff retired, his wife was going to take him in for evaluation. Tate’s fear was he had early onset Alzheimer’s or dementia. Tate couldn’t be sure, but if Branch went in now, and the doctor found something, he’d likely have to be removed from his station as Sheriff, and everyone would know why.
 

No. Tate wouldn’t let the Sheriff’s legacy end with his pride being shattered. Just a few more weeks until the election and he could retire with grace.
 

He shook his head and thought about the incident last week. To Kyle’s credit, the kid took responsibility though it wasn’t even his fault. And to Mia’s credit…

Tate took a deep breath. Despite his run-ins with the insult-flinging, sultry-blonde, he had to admit, she had passion. Something he was lucky enough to experience. He’d been trying to get her out of his system since the moment he found her stuck. But his thoughts of her were only growing.

This past week he’d thought of how she looked at him at the school. There was a moment where she looked scared. Scared for her brother. But she still fell back on her typical form of communication.
 

Demands and expectations.
 

She may be demanding and brash, but if she truly believed in something, she went all out. Another red zone Tate knew better than to go near.
 

“I think Kyle has a promising future and Mia seems to take good care of him,” Tate said.

The Sheriff waved his hand, as if batting Tate’s words out of the air. How did Tate turn into the one defending the Blake Brood? Maybe Luke’s words got to him. Maybe the few flashes of Mia’s vulnerability were messing with his head. Of course, he could have just imagined those flashes, which was likely. The woman never seemed to falter on a damn thing. All confidence and flare.
 

“Well, never the less, that boy is one to keep an eye on,” Branch said.

Tate disagreed, but didn’t want to go deeper into a conversation that no longer mattered. The kid had cleaned up the mess, all was good in Sweet Hill, no sense in fighting over it. Especially when the sound of heels clicking on tile drew closer, and all Tate wanted to do was walk from the Sheriff’s office and out to the main area.
 

There, waltzing across the tile floor and heading straight for the front desk was the woman he’d been thinking about for two damn weeks. The sight of her made all the rage he felt for Branch slow to a simmer. Like her presence calmed him. Made him happy. Which was unexpected.
 

And she was looking fine.
 

Fitted black skirt that hugged her hips and stopped just above the knee with an intricate design on her black stockings down to her exceedingly high red heels. Her jacket was gray, wool and fit her perfectly. Her hair tied up tight in a bun and she clutched a clipboard. Tate was in awe of how versatile and beautiful she was.
 

She didn’t bother talking to Gail at the front desk, instead just lifted her chin at Tate, obviously seeing him stare at her from the back of the room.
 

“Deputy? A word please,” she called.
 

The Sheriff mumbled, “If that’s not trouble, I don’t know what is, son.”
 

Tate wanted to laugh. He had no idea.
 

“Miss Blake,” Tate said, walking around the partition and out to meet her in the lobby. He didn’t miss how her gaze took in his body in a slow sweep. Did Miss Blake have a thing for uniforms? Maybe just him in uniform? He could hope. Because he was finding out that he was partial to her in a skirt.

Before he could argue with himself, that no, he didn’t hope, that he didn’t want any part of her, his cock twitched in his jeans, calling him a liar.

“You look to be on a mission today.” He smiled, hoping this would soften her obvious intent. It didn’t.