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It’s Flag Day in the tiny village of Mudville, New York. That’s a big deal, especially for Deputy Sheriff Carson Bekker.

Mudville’s own sexy, single deputy is juggling not only all the logistics that putting on the longest continuously running Flag Day parade in the United States entails, but also his floundering love life, which has him one right-swipe away from losing my mind.

CHAPTER 1

Penelope Porter.

Her name was worthy of a comic book heroine. Her profile picture on the dating website had been too.

Unfortunately, the bar where we currently sat across from each other didn't come equipped with whatever filter she'd used on that photo.

I'm not a shallow man. I don't need or want a woman who's perfect on the outside. But there are certain things I consider a deal breaker. The inability to appreciate a good dive bar is one of them.

As Miss Penelope Porter glanced around the Muddy River Inn, I swear her nose twitched. Not in a cute-like-a-bunny way. But more in a distinct I smell shit way.

That twitch of her nose told me she didn't approve of my selection of locations for our first—and last—date.

"Is this…the best place to eat around here?" Her gaze went full circle around the bar and dining area and came back to settle on me.

I let out a sniff. "It's pretty much the only place."

Mudville House was closed Mondays and Tuesdays, so this was it. Unless you counted the diner and I had a feeling she wouldn't have thought any more highly of having dinner there either even if it was a perfectly preserved classic from the golden age of American diners.

I guess it took a special woman to appreciate the charm of the local watering hole with its worn carpet and torn bar stools. Not to mention the local clientele.

The people around us all added to the atmosphere of the place, from grumpy old man Timmerman, to the ladies of the Mudville gossip mill, to the farmers who stopped by on the way to the stock auction…

Come to think of it, maybe she did smell shit. I glanced at the boots on Jeb seated at the bar.

But the service and the food were good and the prices reasonable and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Well, usually. I noticed Mrs. Trout's gaze pinned on me as she shared a table with her husband.

I forced a smile and wiggled my fingers at her in a wave.

The fact I knew everyone inside every time I walked through the door could be both good and bad. Good on an average day since I never had to dine alone unless I wanted to. Bad when I was on a date and the two of us drew more attention than the television above the bar airing the game.

Small town living. You gotta love it.

I suppose I could have taken the lady of the day to a restaurant a couple of towns over, but the reality was if the town gossips couldn't report on my date from what they'd seen first-hand, they'd just pass along a handed down bastardized version later. Since this was my third date in as many weeks, I knew the drill.

"So, Carson. You said you work as a police officer?" she asked as she clasped her hands in her lap as if she were afraid to touch the scarred linoleum table between us.

"Deputy sheriff," I corrected.

She nodded like she didn’t understand the difference but didn't comment.

This was going to be a painful conversation. I could tell already.

Bracing myself for how much work I’d have to do just to make small talk, I fell back on an old stand-by topic. Food. "The hot wings are great here. People come from all over just to get them."

Her brow lifted. "I don't like spicy food."

"Oh. That's okay because they have different flavors and sauces. Like there's the parmesan-garlic-butter wings. Those are the best. And teriyaki. They’re mild—"

I could see I'd lost her and cut off the rest of my review of the Muddy River Inn hot wing menu.

"The burgers and fried pickles are really good too," I added, to try to defend my choice of dining establishment in her eyes.

Lips pressed tightly together, she nodded again and continued staring down at the menu.

Since I already knew what I wanted, I took that opportunity to glance around and see who else was there. I wanted company in my misery, I suppose.

Since it was mid-week and not a weekend, the patrons skewed older. At thirty, I was the youngest person in there, besides Carter behind the bar.

The Morgan brothers weren’t even here. Not a surprise. They were all paired off now. Boone had a new wife. Stone was engaged. And if I knew one thing about Red, it was that she wouldn’t sit home quietly while Cashel propped up the bar.

If anything, she’d come drinking with him. That was one reason why I’d asked her out last year. Red was fun. And unlike my current date, Red liked the Muddy River Inn.

Glancing across the table, I found Penelope Parker tapping a message into her cell phone. Probably texting a friend about how shitty this dinner was going.

I clamped my teeth down on the inside of my lip to keep from smiling when I realized it was for the best that I wasn’t going to start dating this woman since she would forever be Penelope Porter to me—both names, all the time—as if she were a Stan Lee character.

Peter Parker. Lois Lane. Bruce Banner. Penelope Porter.

She glanced up and caught me looking amused with myself and my comic book hero comparison. “What?” she asked.

“Um. Nothing. I was just wondering, if you could have any superpower, what would it be?”

I was proud of my get-to-know-you icebreaker, until I saw her expression—a judgmental mix of annoyance and boredom.

That pretty much provided the answer to my question. No doubt, she’d want the power to make me disappear.

I had to agree with the choice.

CHAPTER 2

“Morning,” I said as I pushed through the door of the sheriff’s office and saw the other deputy with the department, John Callahan, was already there.

“Morning,” he returned.

I headed to my desk and put down the To-Go cup containing the remains of this morning’s coffee that I’d grabbed from the bakery on my way in.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” I asked.

When he glanced up with a self-satisfied expression, I regretted the question immediately.

“For you? Flag Day float duty.” John grinned.

I blew out a loud breath. He’d done it last year, so it was my turn this year.

“All right.” I pushed myself out of the chair I’d just sat in and grabbed my cup.

The one good thing about having to go back into town and work my way down Main Street, making a list of which businesses would be putting floats in the annual parade and confirming they knew where and when to rally, was that I could get more of Bethany’s tasty coffee. And maybe even one of the bakery’s signature honey buns.

“See you later,” I grumbled as I stood in the doorway I’d just come through.

John smiled wide. “Have fun.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

It wasn’t so bad an assignment, really. Except that something that should take an hour, tops, ended up taking half a day, because if there was one thing the people of Mudville liked to do, it was talk. And talk. And talk some more.

By the end of today I’d know everything about everybody. And I guess that wasn’t a bad thing in my profession.

But just to ease my way into the day, I decided to start at the far end of Main Street, where the businesses were less clustered together, and the proprietors less chatty.

The variety store and pharmacy went quick. No float for either one of them. And they were both planning on closing for the day before the parade started.

Easy.

Next was Red’s resale shop. I didn’t mind that stop. We were friends. Always had been. Always would be. It didn’t matter that one date with me drove her directly into the arms of Cash Morgan.

I had a suspicion they had a thing for each other since we all graduated high school so I couldn’t feel too bad about it.

The tiny bell tinkled as I pushed the front door open and stepped inside.

“How was your date?” she asked before I even had a chance to spot her standing behind the back counter.

The answer to that question was, the date was bad enough I was happy to be working the parade Friday night so I wouldn’t have to go on another one.

I didn’t tell her that, but I couldn’t help my groan at the question.

“That bad?” she asked.

“Yes.” I sighed as I made my way back to where she was and leaned one hip on the low counter. “Please don’t make me elaborate further.”

Red smiled. “I won’t. I already know all about it anyway.”

“How?” I frowned.

Cash and his brothers hadn’t been at the bar. Red’s besties Harper and Bethany hadn’t either.

“Harper was at the farm market talking to Stone when old lady Trout came in.”

The Trouts. Of course.

“Ah. Got it. Say no more.”

I had no doubt that if all the cell phone service ever went down, the Mudville gossip lines would keep us all informed.

“So, to what do I owe this visit?” she asked.

“I’m on Flag Day float duty.”

“Lucky you. Yes, to the float. And yes, I know where and when to line up,” she said.

I nodded and jotted the confirmation in my notebook.

After all these years, Red knew the drill. She always had a float, every year since the store opened. And she knew by now to rally at the school by six.

“You stop at Morgan farm yet?” she asked.

I glanced up. “No. I never do.”

“You might want to. They’re planning on doing something this year.”

“Really? That’s new.”

“Yeah, well, Harper put on her marketing hat and decided it would be good publicity for the farm stand, so she’s making them put something in. She also decided that as the new mayor, Stone should be riding in the parade too.”

My lips twitched. “And what Harper wants, Stone does, or else?”

“Pretty much. But don’t tell her I said that.” Red laughed.

“Got it. Okay. I can stop by.” I nodded about to go when Red held up one finger.

“And Mudville House and the diner will probably have something in the parade too. Brandon was talking about arranging for some antique cars. One from the diner era and one from the hotel’s era.”

“Nice.”

“Brandon’s in the city this week, but just stop by Honey Buns. Bethany knows all the details.”

Because Bethany was dating Brandon. It was starting to seem like I was the only single man left standing. I pushed that thought aside and nodded, writing all the information down.

If Red kept talking, I would have the full complement of parade vehicles recorded without ever leaving her shop, which was fine with me.

“Hey, baby—oh. Hey, Carson.” Cashel Morgan stepped through the doorway and stopped, his eyes narrowing at the sight of me sitting on the counter where Red leaned.

And that was my cue to go… although, while he was here I might as well do my job and ask him about the parade.

“Hey, Cash. Glad you’re here. You know anything about a Morgan Farm parade entry? Red was just telling me about it since I was here about hers.” I held up my notebook as evidence I was here on official business.

Nothing to see here. Not flirting with your girl.

He looked a little less like a dog about to attack as he sauntered closer and nodded.

“Yeah. Harper decided we needed to do something Instagrammable.” He rolled his eyes. “Looks like we’re gonna fill the hay wagon with kids and signs for the farm stand and pull it with one of the old tractors. Then get this—Stone is going to drive a team of horses and the old buggy that’s been in our barn forever down Main Street. Boone and I are gonna make him a sash—you know, like Miss America wears—that says Mayor on it.”

Cash beamed with a look of pure evil that only one brother mocking another could have.

I laughed. “I can’t wait to see that.”

“I know. It’s gonna be epic.” He grinned wide.

“All right. Thanks. You saved me a ride out to the farm.” I flipped my notebook closed. “Rally at the school by six.”

Red shot Cash a warning glance. “I’ll make sure they’re not late.”

I knew she would. Red took the parade seriously. “Thanks. See you all Friday.”

And with that I turned to leave, but not before I got an eyeful of Cash reeling Red in for a big kiss.

Yup. Last man standing.

It was a lonely position to be in. But not lonely enough for me to call Penelope Porter for another date.

CHAPTER 3

Flag Day dawned bright and sunny. Typical for June in upstate New York, the morning started off chilly but the day quickly turned into a scorcher once the sun was full up.

By late afternoon, after John and I had set up the barricades along Main Street, we were both drenched in sweat.

It would have been nice to pop into the diner for an iced tea. Or even better, into Mudville House for a cold beer. But since I was on duty, that latter option was out of the question.

There wasn’t time for even the iced tea. I had to get to the school and help with the line up since people were already starting to arrive.

The parade encapsulated quite a mix. The marching band from the school. Firetrucks from Mudville, plus all the neighboring towns’ departments. The local Boy Scout troop. Antique car collectors. A tractor brigade.

And, of course, the entries from the businesses.

All of them would move at a snail’s pace down Main Street for the entertainment of the two thousand plus people who traveled here and lined the sidewalks just for the parade.

Small town USA at its best. As long as everything went smoothly, which was my job. Small town deputy, at your service.

By the time I worked my way to the vicinity of the school, it was teeming with people and vehicles.

I was about to start herding everyone into some semblance of order when I saw Stone Morgan with his head under the hood of a tractor hooked to a wagon filled with hay bales and chattering kids.

“Problem?” I asked when I got close enough.

He pulled his head out, narrowly avoiding whacking his skull on the hood. “These old tractors. Temperamental as shit. Got her over here but I’ll be damned if she’ll stay idling. Keeps dying on me.”

“Seems like the mayor could delegate this duty,” I joked.

His hands covered in grease, and with a good bit of it on his face, he looked less than mayoral.

He groaned. “Boone and Cash had to get over to the fire house to get suited up to ride on the fire truck.”

I nodded and glanced around at the chaos, contained by the school’s parking lot, but spilling out onto the road as more vehicles arrived.

It was then that I noticed the team of horses parked—if you could call it that—along the curb.

“That your team?” I asked.

He glanced up and followed my gaze. “Yup. They’ve got a couple of buckets of feed, so they’re happy for now. I left Harper in charge of ’em while I handled this.”

My brows shot high.

Stone caught the move before going back under the hood. “I know. I know. She’s a city girl who didn’t see a horse in person until she started dating me. But she swore she would stand right there in front of them and not move.”

“Did she now?” I asked as I watched her swing up into the driver’s seat of the buggy and take out her phone to take a selfie. I needed to get over there.

Stone had his hands full. He needed to get that tractor running so he didn’t have a truckload of disappointed kids.

I had my hands full too, but John was around to help organize. And even the sheriff himself was here since he’d be riding in one of the antique convertibles. He could jump in to help with the line-up if need be.

For now, I figured the best use of my time was to make sure Harper was all right handling those horses. A runaway team on a street packed with pedestrians was the last thing we needed.

There’d never been an accident during the parade on my watch. I didn’t intend to break that perfect record now.

“Good luck with the tractor,” I said before I pivoted and started heading in the direction of the horse and buggy.

I was getting close when a buzzing above my head had me looking up. I managed to smother the cuss that almost slipped out when I saw the drone hovering overhead.

Then the device zipped forward and into the line of sight of the horses.

One horse spooked, rearing up. Harper yelped in surprise, her phone flying out of her hands as the horse lurched forward, taking his equine partner, hooked to the same rig, with him.

Now the obscenity did come spilling out as I reached to click on my radio. “Spooked team of horses. Main Street by the school.”

That was enough of a report. John and the sheriff should be able to figure out what was happening right in front of them. I certainly didn’t have time to explain more as I took off running toward the horses.

I was in good shape but there was no way I could outrun a team of horses, particularly once they’d been spooked. If they charged down Main Street, my only hope was that nobody would get hurt before they ran themselves out. Or that there was someone with horse experience up ahead who wasn’t afraid to step in front of them and grab them.

Where were the other two Morgan brothers when I needed them?

I remembered too late what Stone had said. They were pulling double duty and were busy in their role as volunteer firefighters. They weren’t around to be farmers right now, even though I could have used them.

Crap.

I could see Harper hanging on to the seat with both hands as the carriage jerked. Red was in the float parked in front of Harper. It was the one thing that had kept the horses from bolting into the street. Her float was blocking the way.

Red screamed for Stone. But he was way behind me by the tractor in the parking lot.

Stone had more experience with horses, but I was closest.

Between Red’s shouting and the frigging drone’s continued presence, both horses got more agitated.

They danced around enough until the whole rig was at an angle and they had a clear path out into the road.

There was no time to waste. They were going to take off running. And I saw only one way to stop it.

I raced up the stairs onto Red’s float and from that higher position, leapt into the buggy just as the horses took off down Main Street.

Harper, scared silent and looking terrified as she clung, white knuckled, to the seat, had long ago dropped the reins. I could see them flying free.

Leaning forward, way too close to the business end of the team, I stretched and was just able to reach the reins as they flew in the wind while the buggy sped forward.

I couldn’t claim to have any experience driving a horse and carriage, but the concept seemed straightforward enough. Pull back. Horses stop. Like a brake. I hoped I was right as I gripped the leather straps and yanked.

It wasn’t a smooth stop. And the horses were far from happy. But eventually, the buggy jerked to a halt.

We’d covered some distance. I’d managed to stop them in front of Agnes’s house, which, conveniently, was where Harper lived.

My heart still pounding, I couldn’t resist saying, “Your stop, madam.”

Her mouth open, she let out a breath. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Meanwhile, a crowd was starting to gather around us. People and one vehicle. I heard the car before I turned around and saw Stone sitting in the passenger seat of a vintage nineteen-sixty-six Buick Skylark convertible being driven by old man Buck.

Stone reached for the door handle as Buck said, “Don’t touch anything. You’re covered in grease.”

Scowling, Stone stood and climbed out over the closed passenger door, which luckily had the window rolled down. And he somehow did it without touching anything.

He trotted to the carriage and gazed up at Harper. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She nodded but her voice broke on the single word and then the tears started falling.

“She had a scare,” I said with the reins still in a death grip in my fists.

As the crowd thickened around us, I wasn’t certain what the horses would do. All I knew was if I saw that damn drone again I was going to shoot it out of the sky with my service weapon.

Stone helped Harper down, handed her over to her Aunt Agnes’s care and then jumped up in the seat next to me. “Good driving for a deputy.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He took the reins, once I’d managed to unwrap them from my whitening fingers where they’d been wrapped so tightly I’d started to lose circulation.

“I’m getting down now. I’m starting to miss solid ground under my feet,” I said.

He snorted as I swung down to the ground. Then he said, “Seriously, though. Thank you. It could have been much worse.”

I nodded. That it could have.

Then again, it was just another day in Mudville, where anything could happen and it usually did.

CHAPTER 4

“So as a deputy, does that mean you can get a promotion and become sheriff?” she asked.

The date of the day was Jane Simms and so far, this dinner had been as unexciting as her name. I couldn’t even amuse myself by making up new Marvel or DC comic characters like I had during my dinner with Penelope Porter.

I really needed to start planning lunch dates. Or better yet, coffee dates.

They’d be quicker. And cheaper. I could do them at Honey Buns and arrange with Bethany that she’d call with an emergency if I gave her the signal.

It was definitely something to think about.

For now, Jane needed some clarification regarding small town law enforcement.

“No. The sheriff is an elected position. I’m just going to stay a deputy.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.” There was a disproportionate level of disappointment in her expression and tone in reaction to my response.

All righty. Apparently, the occupation of deputy wasn’t desirable in a date. Who knew?

“And what do you do?” I asked.

“I’m taking some time off. Exploring my options. I need to find my muse to know what I’d really like to do next.”

My bullshit meter hit on high, but I nodded and even managed a smile. “Good for you.”

Jane twisted in her chair and waved her empty glass at the waitress.

Another cosmopolitan. Great. That would make three. Which meant I was going to have to drive her home or put her in a cab.

I reached for the one and only beer I’d allow myself since I was driving tonight and scowled when I saw I only had one sip left.

The minute I got home though—I was cracking open a six-pack. If not that bottle of Wild Turkey.

“So, what do you do around here as deputy?” she asked.

We were back to this topic since we had nothing else to talk about.

At least I had an amusing anecdote. “Well, last weekend was our annual Flag Day parade in town—”

“Oh, excuse me. I have to take this call.” She stood and tapped her phone’s screen before pressing it to her ear. “Hello?”

She met the waitress, who was on the way over with her drink, and took it before carrying both the cocktail and the cell phone out onto the bar’s back deck.

Glancing around I saw Mary Brimley and Alice Mudd at a nearby table. I forced a smile as I waved. They waved back then leaned in, huddling together to discuss me, no doubt.

I sighed.

By tomorrow, news of this disastrous date would be all over Main Street.

I didn’t have long to worry about it though. Soon, Jane was back, with an empty glass and an apologetic expression on her face.

“Hi. I’m so sorry. But I have to go.”

Relief hit me first. Annoyance shortly thereafter.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” I lied as I stood. “You okay to drive home?”

The professional side of me had to ask, while the personal side of me was pretty damn pissed I’d be paying for her three top shelf cocktails that she’d ordered and downed on her way out the door before we’d even ordered dinner.

The sane part of me remembered that I didn’t want to have to sit through dinner with her and I should cut my losses and count myself lucky she was leaving.

She waved away my concern about her sobriety. “Oh yeah. Those were tiny. The ones at my favorite bar are double the size. I’m fine.”

“All right. Nice meeting you.” Another lie but I pulled it off. I was getting good at this meaningless date chit-chat.

“Yeah, you too. Bye.” And with that, she spun and was out the door. I noticed she hadn’t said she’d call. I wasn’t too broken up over that.

I lifted a hand and caught our server’s attention, then made the international signal for check, please.

While I took out my wallet, I avoided eye contact with Binoculars Brimley’s table.

There was a reason Mary had that name around town. And I didn’t need to see her to know that she and Alice would be watching closely as my date dumped me.

I tossed down money for the drinks and my beer, plus a nice tip, then headed for the door.

Between the table and the exit, I made a decision. No more dating. At least, not for a while.

In fact, maybe I’d take the whole summer off. Do a little fishing. Take the boat out on the lake. Take a weekend away to go camping.

There were so many things to do on my days off other than subject myself to this torture.

I could always try dating again in the winter. After the holidays. When things got boring during the long cold dark days of January.

Yeah. That was a good plan.

I’d just opened the door to leave, happy with my decision, when I found my path was blocked. And by a woman I didn’t know, which was amazing in itself.

Strangers in this bar were few and far between. Yet I’d never seen her before. And I would have remembered because she was memorable.

Raven black hair. Piercing violet-blue eyes. A tiny diamond stud that glistened on one side of her nose. Colorful tattoos that decorated both arms and her chest.

And while I was looking at those tattoos peeking out from her white tank top, I might have happened to notice her stellar tits before I yanked my gaze up.

I took a step back, pulling the door open wider. “You first.”

She nodded, then stepped inside, leaving me holding the door while I watched her walk away.

It wasn’t just the way the jeans hugged her ass that had me staring.

It was more because she was so interesting. The most interesting woman I’d seen in this town in—ever. Which told me one thing. She didn’t live here.

She was only passing through and she’d likely be leaving again. Probably very soon. Because that was how my luck ran when it came to women lately.

With that depressing thought, I stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind me before I made my way to my vehicle.

Alone. Again. And I was okay with that.

As I unlocked the door of my car, I glanced up and saw the stranger pushing out through the door. Damn, she was hot.

Maybe swearing off dating had been a bit premature…

This has been a  "BAD DECISIONS" Bonus Short Story

Does Carson finally meet the love of his life? Find out in

BAD DECISIONS

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