Really, it was an excuse for Georgia’s rich, famous, and politically aligned to get together to drink, eat, and see who could outbid whom, all in the name of charity. Luckily for the charities involved, the more the guests drank the more they raised at the auction. And Lane’s mother kept the bar fully stocked.

Pops helped himself to a second cookie. “That time of year already?”

“It does seem to come faster each year, doesn’t it? But this year is really important. Dad heard a rumor Judge Atkins is trying to throw a party on the same day as the barbecue.” Meagan shook her head. “The lengths people will go to win an election.”

“I might skip the barbecue this year.”

Meagan’s wide eyes looked up from the painting in her hand. A mixed expression of disbelief and fear painted her face. “You can’t not go. Everyone will expect you there. It’s a campaign year.”

Her father’s words—no, threat—rang through her mind. Lane’s gaze flicked to Noah who was finishing his cookie. “It’s just that I know how late these events run and when people drink . . . I don’t think I want Noah around that.”

Meagan came over and put her hand on Lane’s shoulder. “Mom would really like the whole family there, together.”

Was this kind gesture genuine or was Meagan delivering her parents’ message? After last time, would they assume she’d try to get out of going?

“What if I offered you a way out of the spotlight?” Meagan asked.

Lane raised her eyebrows.

“We haven’t found someone to take photos this year. Maybe you can hide behind your camera?”

Pops drained the last of his lemonade. “Or you could take the deputy with you.”

“The deputy?” Shock registered on Meagan’s face. “Not the young, scrappy one who looks like Prince Harry? He’s too young.”

Lane shot a look at her grandfather, who raised a shoulder and gave a mirthful chuckle. She never should’ve told him about Charlie—who was definitely not scrappy.

“Is that a smile?” Meagan’s voice rose in a singsong tone. “Wait—not the new deputy? The one all the PTA moms are talking about?” Her eyes darted back and forth from Pops to Lane.

“Yes.” Lane wrinkled her nose, feeling like a schoolgirl admitting a crush to her best friend. Was that what this was? “Charlie’s a friend.”

“I know Charlie.” Noah raised his hand and gave a toothy grin.

“Why don’t you go put your toys away?” Lane pointed at Noah’s backpack on the floor near the screen door.

Tilting his head to the side, Noah waited for Pops. The wink came and Noah smiled. “Okay.” He slid out of his chair and collected his bag.

Noah’s foot barely hit the first step of the stairs when Meagan said, “Spill it.”