Series: Silver Spoon MC Series by Nichole Rose
Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
"I'm sure that's not his decision, Aunt Ophelia," I say softly.
"Pah," she says. "I don't care whose decision it is. That fountain is a part of this town. It's a historical landmark. They'll tear it down to build a jail over my dead body. You don't mess with the water in this town, dear. It's special. They've been the lifeblood of this town for generations."
My brows furrow, my lips pulling down into a frown. For years, people have gone on about the water in this town. Even Finn swears it's magic, and Finn didn't even believe in Santa as a kid! "What do you mean the water in this town is special?"
"It comes from an underground lake," she explains. "The same one that feeds the Riviera and the waterfalls. When the droughts hit Texas in the 1930s and everything was drying up, this place never did. Farmers who settled here helped keep this state alive during those years and have been rewarded handsomely for it. That's how this town got its name."
"I didn't know that."
"Not many do now." She pats my hand. "After the droughts ended, the town took a look around and realized that things here were different. The whole town survived the worst thing to hit Texas in memory and come out even stronger. Businesses were booming. Families were thriving. They were convinced it was the water."
"Was it?"
"It's been ninety years and this town is as strong as ever." She winks at me. "Maybe it's the water that's special. Maybe it's simply that people believe the water is special."
I mull that over and then smile. I think she's right. It doesn't matter if the water really is special or if it's simply that people believe it, what matters is that people do believe it. And that fountain means something to this town, even if no one remembers why.
I lift my gaze to Finn to find him and Dillon both watching us.
"The fountain stays," I say quietly, meeting my husband's gaze.
I can tell by the look in his eyes that he agrees. He'll fight for Aunt Ophelia's fountain. And he'll win. Because that's what my husband does. He's not just a super-spy. He's the most incredible man I've ever known.
"I'll get the mayor on the phone," Dillon says.
"Tell him he can put his jail anywhere else he wants, but he isn't putting it there," Finn says. "I'll make a hefty donation to his reelection campaign to ease the sting, but that fountain isn't going anywhere."
"Will do." Dillon glances at Aunt Ophelia. "Is this acceptable to you, Ms. Crawford?"
"It will do." She thrusts a hand out in front of her. "Now help a feeble old woman up, will you? I'm overdue for a nap."
"Feeble my ass," Dillon mumbles under his breath. But he helps her up.
Aunt Ophelia pats him on the chest, copping a feel of his muscles. "If I were fifty years younger, and you weren't married…."
Dillon nearly chokes on his tongue.
"Aunt Ophelia!"
She cackles, headed for the doors.
"Sorry," I whisper to Dillon.
He waves me off, blushing bright red.
"I'll call you," Finn mutters to him before wrapping an arm around my waist. We follow Aunt Ophelia out of the Sheriff's Department, neither of us willing to let her get out of sight again.
Once we've got her settled into the passenger seat, Finn backs me up against the side of the car and tips my head back, kissing me long and slow.
"What was that for?" I whisper.
"Because I love you, Scarlett Taylor from Gatsby Books."
"I love you too, super-spy Finn Taylor."
"And because we're putting an ankle monitor on your aunt as soon as we get her back to the nursing home," he says. "Before she costs me another quarter million dollars or gets herself locked up for sexually harassing the sheriff."
"I can't believe she did that!" I say, burying my face in his throat to hide my laughter. It's not funny at all, and yet the look on Dillon's face. Oh my god. I thought he was going to die right there.
"I can," he mutters. "She's a menace."
He's not wrong about that.
"Come on. Let's get her back to the nursing home." He runs his lips across my forehead and then nibbles at my lips. "And then if we have time, I'll show you what I'd do to you if I were fifty years younger and you weren't married."
I throw my head back and laugh loudly.