A Cowboy's Temptation. Barbara Dunlop

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      He drew back, dragging in breaths, looking as dazed as she felt. “Another minute, and I’ll be swearing it’s six hundred names.”

      Another minute and Darby would be sporting a train engineer’s hat.

      He dropped his hands and stepped back. “This could get me into a lot of trouble at the office.”

      “I’m sorry—” She stopped, not sure exactly what she was sorry about.

      He laughed. “For being a great flirt? I’ve got to hand it to you, Darby. I didn’t think you’d go through with a kiss.”

      Still feeling slightly unsteady on her feet, she forced out a casual laugh. There was no way she’d let him know how he’d affected her. “I figured it was worth a shot.”

      His expression turned serious. “Take another shot, any old time you’d like.”

      “We’re getting more signatures,” she told him, ignoring the urge to kiss him again right here and now. “Marta’s out there signing more people up.”

      “You can’t do that. The deadline’s passed.”

      “There’s nothing in the policy that says all six hundred have to be present at the deadline.”

      “That’s the whole point.”

      “Maybe,” she allowed. “Maybe not. But if you don’t approve the referendum, I’ll have to meet you in court so we can let a judge decide.”

      “Fightin’ words, Ms. Carroll.”

      “You have paint on your jacket, Mr. Mayor.”

      He followed her gaze to the finger-shaped smears of peach where she’d gripped his sleeves. He blew out a heavy sigh.

      “You’re a regular walking disaster.”

      She stifled a smile. “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning.”

      He shrugged. “Sadly, the jacket barely registers on my radar today. There’s also a problem with your property survey on file at the Lands Office.”

      The sudden change in topic took her by surprise.

      “What problem?” She scrambled to figure out his new angle.

      “Mountain Railway’s lawyers did some research—”

      “Oh, no, you don’t,” she interrupted. “You are not going to mess around with my land—”

      “I’m not messing around—”

      “I don’t care who you are, Seth Jacobs.” She closed the space between them, tapping her index finger against his chest. “I will not be—”

      “You own more land than you thought,” Seth all but shouted over her, grasping her paint-smeared hand and dragging it away from him.

      “Huh?”

      “The mistake is bad for me. I’m not here to cheat. Not that you don’t deserve someone who plays dirty.”

      While he spoke, Seth suspiciously checked his shirtfront. “There was a mistake made in the survey record back in 1893. It turns out your land goes across the rail right-of-way. That being the case, we’ll be asking you for an easement.” He stopped talking.

      The breeze gusted up from the lake, while songbirds darted from tree to tree.

      “Are you saying I own more land?” She struggled to wrap her head around the news.

      “Yes. The Lands Office will redraft your plan to match the one on the official file,” Seth said.

      “So the train would come across my land?”

      “If you grant an easement,” he confirmed.

      “I don’t see that happening.”

      “Neither do I,” he admitted. “So I’ll expropriate your land.”

      “You can’t do that.” If it was her land, she should have a say.

      “Yes,” he told her firmly, “I can.”

      She believed him. “I’ll fight you.”

      Their relationship was about to get more adversarial than ever.

      “You can’t fight me on this one. And a petition won’t help.”

      “Do you enjoy being the bad guy?” asked Darby.

      “I’ve never been the bad guy. And I’m the good guy now. It’s what the people want, Darby. Accept it and move on.”

      “A referendum will tell you what the people want.”

      He shook his head and drew away, looking every inch in control. “The election already told me that.”

      * * *

      “What happens if they succeed?” Travis asked Seth from the passenger seat of the mayor’s official car.

      “Succeed at what?” Seth asked, needing Travis to narrow the question down. Darby Carroll was uppermost on his mind, but as mayor, he was battling problems on a whole lot of fronts right now.

      The two men were driving along the River Road on the way to a Rodeo Association dinner. Seth was at the wheel of his official vehicle, working hard at avoiding potholes.

      “Succeed in getting the railway referendum.”

      “They didn’t get enough signatures.”

      “It might not matter,” said Travis. “Abigail read the bylaw, and Darby isn’t wrong. There’s nothing specifically stopping her from submitting additional signatures after the petition is filed.”

      “It’s going in front of Judge Hawthorn.”

      “So?”

      “So, he grew up in the Valley. Half his family is still in ranching.”

      Travis frowned. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”

      “I’m saying Judge Hawthorn will give us a straight-up reading of the bylaw and the intent of the bylaw. He’s not going to go looking for esoteric little loopholes to derail progress.”

      “He’s honor bound to follow the law.”

      Seth splashed the car through a puddle, knowing he’d have to get it washed yet again. “Exactly. I’m counting on that.”

      Red and yellow leaves fluttered in bursts from the woods, ticking their way across the windshield. Seth rounded a corner and came to a rolling field where cattle dotted the golden wheatgrass. Snow was gathering on the high, distant peaks, and a chill blew down from the mountains.

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