A Texan Returns. Victoria Chancellor
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troublemaker—serve as a role model for potential juvenile delinquents when he’d been so irresponsible that he hadn’t even completed his court-imposed sentence? He couldn’t! He had to make this right so he could be a positive influence on those kids. He was one of the only people around who had both the money and the background to make a real difference.
His people had worked with the city officials to come up with a PR solution: Wyatt would come back to Brody’s Crossing for some community service, to make amends for leaving the sentence unfinished, and he’d get photos and a new story on the importance of making things right. And personally he’d get to put his past misbehavior behind him. To make it right for himself, not just the town or the media.
Although at the moment, he could barely remember why he’d thought coming back to town was a good idea. Not with Toni Casale sitting in front of him, looking all serene and grown-up.
“You’re not being very fair,” she said.
“I’m not feeling very fair. As a matter of fact, I’m kind of angry.” Angry at himself, for spending his youth as a prankster, and at her, for being mayor of the town in which they’d grown up. And at the situation, which was both their faults. He might have painted their school colors on the tower, but she’d leaked the news that he’d left town before it was completely boring-white again. Everyone in Brody’s Crossing knew he’d left for Stanford fifteen years ago, white paint still under his nails, but only she had brought up the subject in an interview. Maybe, deep down inside, she was still mad at him for leaving so suddenly.
“I told you I’m sorry.”
“Are you sorry as the mayor or as my former girlfriend?”
She drew in a deep breath. “Both, I suppose. Maybe because we used to be friends and I know what it feels like to be…disappointed.”
He narrowed his eyes and suppressed a comeback. She had a point, one that he didn’t want to explore at the moment. Her reasonable attitude and reminders of the past took the wind out of his sails. “Whatever your intentions, the point is that I’m back in town to finish my ‘sentence’ and we all have to make the best of it.”
“With all due respect,” Toni said, pushing out of her chair, “I’m not the one who has to do anything.”
She wore a straight chino skirt, not as short as he’d hoped, with brown boots that looked more conservative than the stiletto-heeled black ones he’d envisioned. She hadn’t gained weight in the past fifteen years. Not that he’d wanted her to, of course, but if she were sporting humongous saddlebags or if she’d started dressing like the construction workers she employed, he’d have had an easier time living in the same town with her for the next couple of weeks.
“You have to put up with me. It’s hard to believe, but I can be hard to get along with. Just ask—” he turned, looking over his shoulder “—Louisa and Cassie.”
He stepped aside and Toni peered around him. “Hello.”
“Cassie McMann is my assistant’s assistant and Louisa Palmer is my public-relations director.”
“Hi,” Cassie said, grimacing that characteristic funny smile of hers.
“Nice to meet you,” Louisa said in her best PR voice.
Toni rounded the desk, grabbed Wyatt’s arm and pulled him into the hallway. The fact that she’d gotten him alone almost made up for the defiant sparkle in her eyes. She dropped his bicep like a hot potato. “You brought your people to help you finish your sentence?” she asked in a raspy whisper.
“They’re not here to help me do any actual work. I can handle that. They’re here to keep me out of trouble with seemingly well-intentioned former friends. And the media.”
“Would those be the friends you abruptly left when you moved away? The friends you conveniently forgot to contact once you made it big?”
That sounded a bit personal. “I didn’t forget the town.” He’d sent checks to some of his parents’ favorite causes. And maybe a few to make up for his youthful indiscretions. His foundation, based in California, would eventually work nationally to help kids who had gone astray and had no one else to pull them back from the edge. Bored kids, smart kids with too much time on their hands, frustrated kids. Kids from bad homes—or good homes where they weren’t understood. The causes of their problems weren’t as important to him as the result.
Some people might think he was just one more rich guy doing something to make himself look good, but this work hit a lot closer to home than most folks realized. He, more than most, understood the importance of channeling all that energy, resentment and anger into positive pursuits rather than lashing out at the most convenient target.
In his case, that damned water tower where he and Toni used to go to make out.
“You might not have forgotten that you grew up here, but you seemed to forget the people in the town,” she said. “Your friends, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I didn’t think that certain friends were interested in ever speaking to me again.” He and Toni had had some outstanding arguments…and equally fantastic makeup sex. Except for that last time, when there’d been no makeup anything.
Toni rolled her eyes. “Come on, Wyatt. Bring your entourage and come over to city hall. I’ve arranged a meeting with the new chief of police and the city manager so we can go over the details of your ‘sentence,’ as you put it. You’re lucky the city went along with your ideas about publicly making amends. They certainly didn’t have to legally, since the incident happened fifteen years ago.” She started back to her office.
Wyatt wasn’t about to let that comment about an entourage go unchallenged. He put a hand on her arm, halting her. “Cassie and Louisa are employees, not an entourage.”
Toni shook off his light grip as if she didn’t want him to touch her. “I’m sure they’re perfectly lovely women. I simply didn’t realize what dealing with such a famous entrepreneur would entail.” She walked to her desk and grabbed a big ring of keys. “Most people who come to visit don’t bring their staff.”
“I only brought two people,” he said, then realized he sounded too defensive. “I’m still on the board of directors for my former business and I’ve got a foundation to get running.”
“Believe me, I know. I’ve heard nothing but inquiries on the famous billionaire bachelor Wyatt McCall. I’m surprised you didn’t bring bodyguards.”
Cassie had suggested that very thing, but Wyatt didn’t need them in Brody’s Crossing. He wasn’t exactly making news, he wasn’t one of those “bad boys” who attracted paparazzi, and besides, staying in and around Brody’s Crossing wasn’t easy due to the lack of motel rooms. But he needed to get this task done so that the follow-up story would reflect well on his foundation.
“Being famous sure beats being infamous,” he said.
“In your case,” Toni said, looking back over her shoulder as she grabbed her own brown leather jacket on the way out the door, “I’m not sure there’s a difference. At least, not here in Brody’s Crossing.”
“You’ll know soon enough. I’m going to be on my best behavior.” Despite the way Toni looked in that modest skirt and that beckoning blue sweater. She’d always had a figure made for sweaters. And short skirts.
“I sure hope so,” she said. “For all our sakes, please just do the work to finish your sentence and get back to the West Coast.”
“That’s the plan, isn’t it?” he said as he settled his sunglasses in place and followed her out the door. Of course, when had he ever followed someone else’s plan?
THE STATUTE OF LIMITATIONS had run out long ago on the crime of painting the water tower purple and gold, but the memories of most people in town were vivid, Wyatt learned as he walked down the sidewalk along Main Street.
“Wyatt! Good