“True enough.” If he paid attention, Roman thought. But he hadn’t a clue if Mick the beagle had been granted his freedom or locked behind closed doors for the duration of his doggy life.
The sound of a gavel hitting the table let them know the meeting had adjourned for a short recess. Roman rose and stretched in an attempt to wake himself up.
Fred stood, joining him. “Hey, you involved with anyone right now?”
Not yet. Roman shook his head, refusing to go that route with anyone but his brothers. “Not at the moment, why?”
Fred stepped closer. “Sally’s been eyeing you. I thought she had a thing for Chase, but now she’s locked in on you.” With a generous wave that made a mockery of his whisper, Fred gestured to where Sally Walker sat in her seat, tapping on her laptop for the county record.
Sally half raised her hand in salutation, a blush staining her cheeks.
Roman waved back, then looked away, not wanting to encourage her obvious interest. “She’s not my type.” Because her name wasn’t Charlotte. The thought surfaced unbidden. “Why don’t you go after her yourself?” Roman asked.
“Guess you didn’t hear I’m engaged,” Fred said proudly. “Marianne Diamond’s going to be my wife.”
One of his brothers had mentioned it earlier, Roman recalled now. He grinned, raised a hand to slap Fred on the back, but refrained. He didn’t want the big man to reciprocate the gesture. “Well, good for you. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. Listen, I’ve got to talk to one of the councilmen before things heat up again. I’ve got a few jobs on hold pending a permit … well, you don’t need to know details. See you around.”
“Sure thing.” Roman pinched the back of his neck. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him.
“How’d your first day back in the trenches go?”
He turned to see Chase standing beside him. “What’s wrong? Is it Mom?” He hadn’t expected to see Chase again tonight.
“No.” Chase laid a quick, comforting hand on Roman’s shoulder, then withdrew it.
“What, then? You don’t trust me to do my job?” Which wouldn’t be unfair, Roman thought. He still didn’t have an answer to the Carltons’ beagle’s problem.
Chase shook his head. “I just figured you’d be antsy sitting at one of these things and thought I’d relieve you in case it ran long.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I overheard you and Fred. Looks like you’ve got yourself a candidate.”
“From what Fred said, Sally was interested in you first.”
“Trust me, the field is open. I wouldn’t hold it against you for stealing her away from me,” Chase said wryly. “Sally’s too serious for me to even think about. She’s the type to be dreaming about a house and kids after one date.” He shuddered.
“If she likes a loner like you, she’s not gonna be interested in an outgoing guy like me.” Roman grinned, only too happy to rib his brother about his lone wolf qualities. Rick had been right in saying women were drawn to their older brother’s brooding silence.
But Chase stared him down, obviously unwilling to buy in to Roman’s excuses. “Sally’s ready to settle down. Everything she wants right now would make her the perfect candidate for you. So why’d you tell Fred she’s not your type?”
“Because she isn’t.”
“Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but isn’t that what you want? Sally’s interested in you and you don’t return the sentiment. See if she’ll accept your arrangement.”
Roman glanced over his shoulder again and took in Sally Walker, an innocent, blushing type of woman. “I can’t.” He couldn’t marry Sally. Sleep with Sally.
“I suggest you be careful, little brother. If you pick out a lady who actually is your type, you might not be in such a rush to get the hell out.” Chase shrugged. “Just something to think about.”
Leave it to Chase, Roman’s father figure, to point out the obvious. Also leave it to Chase to remind Roman of his priorities. His wife hunt. His brother was right. Roman needed a woman he could leave behind, not one he’d be drawn back to over and over again. Yet another reason Charlotte was all wrong for him. He wished like hell he could get her out of his system once and for all. But damned if he knew how. Touching her, tasting her, only made him want her more, not less.
An hour later, Roman headed home, Chase’s words in his mind, but Charlotte in his subconscious. In bed later that night, he woke more than once in a heated sweat, Charlotte Bronson the cause.
Ten years, and the flame burned hotter than ever. Which only proved one thing: Temptation or no temptation, Roman couldn’t afford to get involved with Charlotte. Not now. Not ever.
The sun woke Roman early the next morning. Despite a splitting headache, he stretched and climbed out of bed with a renewed sense of determination and purpose. After a quick shower, he headed for the kitchen. Food wouldn’t kill the pain, but at least something to eat would fill his empty stomach. He reached into his mother’s pantry, pulled out a box of Frosted Flakes, poured a bowl of cereal, added mini-marshmallows, then drowned the mixture with milk.
His stomach growled at the same time he settled in, sitting in the same chair he favored as a kid. Pulling out the latest copy of the Gazette, he looked over the new and improved layout, and a tug of pride lodged in Roman’s throat.
Not only had Chase grown the paper along with the increased population in town, he’d brought it online, as well. In a small town like Yorkshire Falls, people still wanted their paper in print but a good number would rather read online as well.
The sound of someone running down the stairs startled him and he turned to see his mother come to a quick halt as she entered the kitchen.
“Roman!”
“You were expecting someone else?”
She shook her head. “It’s just … I thought you’d left the house already.”
“And you decided to run a marathon while I was gone?”
“Weren’t you supposed to have breakfast with your brothers?”
He narrowed his gaze. “I couldn’t get out of bed this morning, and don’t change the subject. Was that you running down the stairs? Because you’re supposed to be taking it easy, remember?” But hadn’t Rick said she’d sounded winded last night too?
“How could I forget something so important?” She placed a shaking hand to her chest, then walked slowly into the room, coming up beside him. “What about you? Are you feeling okay?”
Other than disoriented from this circular conversation, he was fine. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Because your ears are obviously still clogged from the plane ride if you’re thinking you heard something as ridiculous as me running, of all things. Do you want me to make an appointment with Dr. Fallon for you?” she asked.
He shook his head hard enough to clear his ears had they been blocked and met his mother’s gaze. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“No need.” She slowly lowered herself into the chair beside him, then stared at his cereal bowl, a frown puckering her face. “Well, I see some things haven’t changed. I can’t believe I actually keep that garbage on hand for you. It’s going to—”