The Swinging R Ranch: The Swinging R Ranch / Whose Line Is It Anyway?. Debbi Rawlins
for the bathroom.
Just like every other candidate in Bingo’s history, Abby and her volunteers held her fund-raising dinner at the community center, a modest room which her two campaign volunteers had crowded with tables and chairs, and a podium under which three tacky orange balloons floated. Behind that was the “Vote for Abby for Mayor” banner.
If you squinted you could see the crease in the fabric after Abby where Cunningham had been cut out and the banner had been taped back together. Someone had misspelled Cunningham. When one of the volunteers said it didn’t matter because everyone knew who Abby was, Abby didn’t miss the irony.
As she neared the bathroom, she swept her gaze over the room one last time in hopes of seeing her grandmother. She prayed she was here. Abby thought she had seen her briefly while dinner was being served, but she couldn’t figure out where Gramms was sitting, or why she hadn’t taken her place next to Abby at the head table.
Then again, maybe her mind was playing tricks on her and she hadn’t seen Gramms at all. Having gotten only three hours sleep last night was doing strange things to Abby’s concentration.
“Well, Abigail, don’t you look…” Mrs. Bacon took Abby’s hand, then stepped back to size her up “…different.”
Abby patted her hair and smiled at her boss, the middle school principal. “I thought the French twist would make me look older.”
Mrs. Bacon’s critical eye roamed Abby’s face. “You’re wearing more makeup, too. Don’t start looking too sophisticated or folks will think you’re clearing out just like every other young person who graduated from Bingo High in the past ten years.”
Abby frowned. She hadn’t thought of that when she’d decided to go for the more mature look. In truth, she hadn’t thought of much more than her grandmother and Max Bennett, the new thorn in her backside.
“I think most people know me better than that, Mrs. Bacon. I did come back to teach seventh grade just like I said I would.”
“That you did,” the older woman said, nodding her head, her gray, wiry hair barely contained in her customary bun. “And we’re all the better for it.”
Pride swelled in Abby’s chest. Mrs. Bacon’s compliments were few and far between. But more than that, such affirmations reassured Abby that coming back had been the right decision. Not that she ever doubted it, not really. Today had been an exception, a low time. It was one of the reasons she’d put her hair up, and worn makeup—to remind herself she was a grown-up. She hadn’t felt much like one today. All she’d wanted to do was curl into a ball and hide under the covers.
She missed Gramms.
Max Bennett, she wanted to tar and feather.
“By the way, where’s Estelle?” Mrs. Bacon peered around the room. “I thought she’d be sitting at the head table with you.”
“Abby! You have to speak in five minutes!” Trish, one of the volunteers, headed toward them, weaving in and out of the mob of tables and chairs.
“Please excuse me, Mrs. Bacon. If I don’t hurry to the rest room, it’s going to seem like an awfully long speech.” Abby smiled her apology and took off before she had to answer Mrs. Bacon’s question.
Trish hurried after her. “Have you seen your grandmother yet?”
Geez, Louise. Abby sighed. “What is this? Does everyone think she’s gone missing?
“Of course not. She’s here.”
Abby put on the brakes, and turned to Trish. The tall blonde stopped a hair short of running into her. “You saw Gramms?”
“Well, yeah.” Trish blessedly quit chomping her gum for a second. “That’s why I asked if you’d seen her yet. I want to know who the hunk is with her.”
Abby nearly choked. “Max is here?”
“You know him?” Trish’s eyes widened and she started to chomp her gum with a vengeance.
It had to be Max. He was the type of guy women reacted to like this—the bugged eyes, hair patting, lip-licking. Not her, of course. Disgusted, she turned away from Trish and pushed through the rest room door.
“Uh, I think that’s the wrong—”
Trish didn’t have to finish. The exact instant Abby realized she was entering the men’s room, she ran into Max Bennett on his way out.
Surprise flickered across his face, but he recovered quickly, and grabbed her upper arms when she stumbled backward. “Looking for me?” he asked, flashing a megawatt smile.
“Not even for an emergency lifeline.” She shook away from him, glaring fiercely to counteract her boneless legs.
Trish popped her gum loudly. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw the younger woman’s mouth drop open, prompting Abby to glance around to see if anyone else had overheard. They were in a remote corner, and fortunately, no one else was in sight.
Abby quickly stepped out of the men’s room doorway. “Trish, why don’t you go make sure everything is ready for my speech.”
Trish nodded, backing away, her gaze shooting from Abby to Max—especially Max.
“You look terrific,” he said, before Trish was out of earshot, and he lifted a hand to touch a stray tendril of hair at Abby’s temple.
She ducked away from him. He looked better than terrific in a perfectly fitted dark blue suit. Clean shaven, tanned, disgustingly even white teeth. And those beautiful green eyes…It would be a miracle if any of the women paid one second of attention to her speech. “What have you done with my grandmother?”
“What have I done with her?” One eyebrow lifted in amusement. “You give me way too much credit. Estelle has a mind of her own. Must run in the family.”
“Okay, here’s a simpler question. What the hell are you doing here?”
“My civic duty.”
“You’re not a resident of Bingo.”
“No, but I do own a business you’ve threatened to shut down.”
Abby’s breath caught. “This is only a speech, not a debate.”
“I understand.”
“I didn’t even plan on mentioning the Swinging R.”
Max smiled. “You sound nervous, Abby, maybe you ought to splash some cold water on your face before you have to get up on that podium.”
Cold water. Great idea. Right down the front of Max’s perfectly tailored suit.
“That would be a very bad move, Abby.” He shook his head. “It would look like poor sportsmanship at the very least.”
He couldn’t know what she’d been thinking… “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Hold on.” He grabbed her arm when she turned to go. “Someone should have caught this before now.”
She froze when he touched the back of her neck, his warm fingers grazing her skin and threatening an onslaught of goose bumps. The soft sound of a closing zipper startled her.
“There.” His hands fell away.
A tad disoriented, she took a deep breath and slid him a glance. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Call me later if you need help undressing.”
The haze evaporated. Abby snorted. “Now who’s giving you too much credit.”
He laughed. “Give ’em hell, Abigail,” he said softly, then sauntered away as if they’d just discussed the weather.
Abby took three deep breaths, then hurried into the correct rest room. She stared in the mirror