“Cody Bailman, are you hiding Sherry under that tree with you?” The toes of a pair of snakeskin boots stepped on the outer edges of the blanket just under the tree’s protective foliage.

Heather cast her father a righteous look and whispered heatedly, “I told you Mayor Bowie was going to ask her first.”

Cody stood and parted the willow’s hanging branches. “She’s eating.”

“Howdy, Mayor,” Sherry said, smiling up at him, a chicken leg poised in front of her mouth. “I understand you’re the chef responsible for this feed. You can cook for me anytime.”

“I’m not a bad dancer, either. I thought I’d see if you wouldn’t mind taking a spin with an old coot like me.”

She laughed. “You’re not so old.”

“What’ll your wife think?” Cody asked, his tone jocular, but with an underlying…what? Annoyance? Jealousy? Sherry wasn’t sure.

Pepper’s mayor waved his hand dismissively. “Hazel won’t care. Good grief, I’ve been married to the woman for thirty-seven years. Besides, she’s talking to her friends, and you know how that bunch loves to idle away an afternoon gossiping. I thought I’d give them something to talk about.”

“Sherry?” Cody glanced at her as if he expected her to decline.

Frankly, Sherry was flattered to have two men vying for her attention, even if one of them was old enough to be her father and looked as if he’d sampled a bit too much of his own cooking over the years.

“Why, Mayor, I’d be delighted.”

Cody didn’t look pleased.

“I told you this was going to happen,” Heather reminded him indignantly. “Your problem, Dad, is that you never listen to me. I read romance novels. I know about these things.”

A laugh hovered on Sherry’s lips. She hoisted herself up and accepted Mayor Bowie’s hand as he led her to the dancing platform.

Cody and Heather followed close behind. Because Mayor Bowie was chatting, she couldn’t quite hear the conversation between father and daughter, but it seemed to her that Heather was still chastising Cody.

Although it was early in the evening, the dance floor was crowded. Willie Nelson was crooning a melodic ballad as the mayor deftly escorted Sherry onto the large black-and-white-checkered platform. He placed one hand at her waist and held her arm out to one side, then smoothly led her across the floor.

“How’re you doin’, Sherry?” a woman asked.

She turned to see Donna Jo dancing with the sheriff. Sherry waved with her free hand. Doc Lindsey danced briskly by with Mrs. Colson, first in one direction and then another.

Mayor Bowie was surprisingly light on his feet, and he whirled Sherry around so many times she started to get dizzy. When the dance ended, she looked up to find Cody standing beside the mayor.

“I believe this dance is mine,” he said.

“Of course.” The mayor gracefully stepped aside and turned to Heather. Bowing, he asked the giggling twelve-year-old for the pleasure of the next dance.

Heather cast Sherry a proud look and responded with a dignified curtsy.