“I’m not giving up my place!” insisted Jim.
“Why you old—”
Judd inserted himself bodily between them. “Y’all simmer down, or neither of you is doing anything.” His over-tired mind raced, looking for a solution that didn’t involve him plunking both of them in a cell for the duration of the festival. Somebody somewhere had to have some more blanks. “Look, if we can come up with a second starter pistol, you could both take the shot starting the race simultaneously. Equals. Is that acceptable?”
“I don’t know…” Jim waffled.
“Wouldn’t it look good to the townspeople to see the presidents of the Kiwanis and Rotary Clubs joint officiating?” Judd pushed.
“Well, I suppose that might be okay,” Neil allowed.
“As long as we both get to have our banners,” Jim insisted.
“One on each side of the starting line,” Judd promised.
“I can live with that,” said Neil.
“Good. Great. Y’all do that. Banners in place on those barricades, and y’all get in position. The race should be starting in fifteen minutes.”
Jesus. Was all this extra crap really worth enduring for the chance to be Chief of Police?
Of course it was. Because being Chief wasn’t the end goal. It was just a means to an end.
He waited until the combatants scurried off to their respective civic groups, then radioed to find some blanks. Couldn’t very well have civilians firing actual shots, when town was crawling with pedestrians for the first annual Wishful FountainFest. Looking at the throngs of people, Judd couldn’t help but wish their city planner wasn’t quite so good at her job. The department didn’t have the manpower to adequately police this many people.
Should’ve called in some of the off-duty deputies from the county.
But the departmental budget couldn’t afford that either. Still, he’d seen at least two of the deputies in the crowd. Men he trusted, who could handle themselves. If anything went down, they’d lend a hand. Not that anything was likely to happen, but Judd had plenty of personal experience that made him less complacent than most.
As soon as the starter pistol situation was taken care of, Judd walked over to Mary Alice. Her sunny hair was pulled through the back of a FountainFest ball cap, and she was dressed to run in a t-shirt and shorts that showed off her toned legs. The sight gave him a bit of a jolt. He was so used to her conservative, elementary school attire, he often forgot what was underneath. Which was a terrifying sign of exactly how much he’d been working these last few months.
Need to rectify that.
“Kyle, pull your shorts up. Does anybody have to go to the bathroom before we get started?”
“Everything under control here?” Judd asked.
She looked up, blue eyes twinkling. “As in control as it ever is.”
“At least they’re better behaved than the race officials,” he observed.
“You get whatever that was sorted?” Her gaze slipped past his shoulder. “Danielle, stop picking your nose.”
“Barely. Race will be starting in just a bit.” A jaw-splitting yawn interrupted the statement.
She gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. “Hang in there. Once this double is over, you’ll be off for four whole days.”
“Thank God.” The prospect of eight straight on a horizontal surface was more appealing than Venus herself.
With a quick glance at her charges, Mary Alice stepped into him, rising on her toes. Judd still had to lean down so she could whisper in his ear. “Maybe after you’ve slept, we could spend some quality time together. Do a little catching up.”
He hummed his approval at that idea, thinking about getting reacquainted with those legs of hers. A flash of red hair distracted him from the suggestion of what they could do with some of that quality time. Judd told himself the sudden jump in his heart rate was due entirely to the less than G-rated thoughts he’d just been entertaining about Mary Alice.
Autumn Buchanan, his oldest, dearest friend, cut through the crowd with Boudreaux, Judd’s massive bloodhound-mastiff mix, trotting beside her on a leash. She’d been dogsitting, while he’d been on nights the last week. Livia Applewhite, one of her closest girlfriends, trailed in her wake. Judd straightened, eyes zeroing in on the number pinned to Autumn’s chest.
“Good morning, y’all,” Autumn called cheerily.
She and Livia both launched into greetings to the children they knew from the library, introducing them to Boudreaux. The dog sat, patiently enduring the kids’ adoration.