I nodded. My friends all called me Mo, but he wasn’t my friend. “That’s fine.”
We ordered lunch, and Quinn jumped right into his pitch. “We’ve run the projections, and we believe you can beat the incumbent governor. We’d like you to run.”
I studied him. “We who?” Why had he and whoever he was working with picked a mayor from a small town that most people in Nebraska had probably never heard of?
“My group. We gather data and run an analysis on every political player in the state. You scored the highest in terms of your ability to win the seat.”
I shook my head. “While that is flattering, I’m not interested in running for governor.”
“Wouldn’t you like to see yourself in the governor’s mansion in Lincoln?” He sipped from his scotch and water mix.
“Nope.” I sipped my seltzer with lime.
He laughed as he sat back and studied me. “Really? You’re happy to be mayor of nowhere.”
“Careful, you’re about to insult my town.”
He waved his hand. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant to highlight that you could be known. Make a difference for all Nebraskans. Who knows, maybe go even higher. You and Gerald Ford could be the only two presidents from Nebraska.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t call him on his over-the-top pitch. “I appreciate the confidence and the offer, but I plan on retiring from office and focusing on my ran
ch. I miss riding. I miss the outdoors.” That was true. I was so looking forward to going back to being a rancher. I wasn’t sure if the rest of that dream would come to fruition. My chances of a real wife and family seemed to be fading, although I couldn’t deny that Brooke looked good in my home, and the idea of her carrying our child held an appeal that it shouldn’t.
“Why don’t you think about it?” Quinn asked, dismissing my adamance that I wasn’t interested in being governor.
I sat back as the waitress brought our meals. “Nothing to think about. At least in terms of me running for governor. But I would like to talk to you about deputy mayor Sinclair Jones—”
“We’re not looking at her for governor.”
“Not governor. Mayor of Salvation.”
He laughed and shook his head. “We don’t get involved in small-town politics.”
I frowned. “Then why are you here? I’m small-town politics.”
“Because we know you have what it takes to be bigger.” He leaned forward. “You’ve got youth. Style. Smarts. You know how to balance tradition and progress. That’s what Nebraska needs.”
“I always told you to think bigger,” a female voice said as a woman slid into the chair next to me.
I nearly choked on my ravioli. “Shelley?” What the hell was my ex-wife doing here?
She glared at Quinn. “I knew you’d mess this up.” She turned to me and smiled as she touched my arm. “I knew you’d try to turn him down, but you’re too humble. Too short-sighted.”
Quinn’s phone rang. He cleared his throat and excused himself to answer it.
Shelley continued talking. “You’d be an excellent governor. You’re someone Nebraska could be proud of. Someone I could be proud of.” She tossed her red hair back and leaned closer to me, and her smile was one that I recognized. It was the one she used when she decided sex was the means of getting what she wanted. It had taken me a while to recognize the ploy. Maybe because I was a man, and my dick had a mind of its own. This time, he didn’t rise, so to speak, to her cooing invitation.
My hackles rose. What was she doing here? She’d left me because I wasn’t ambitious enough for her.
“And then what?” I asked, arching a brow. “Once you’re proud of me, what happens then?”
She bit her lower lip in a way that might have been erotic if I wasn’t on to her. “Then we can live happily ever after like we planned.”
I laughed. “Did you forget we’re divorced?”
“That could be remedied.” She used her finger to wipe my chin. I was pretty sure I hadn’t dripped sauce on it.
“What if I lose?” I asked.