Page 17 of Who Pissed Off Ivy Dell?

“He confides in you, though.”

“I don’t know why you think that.”

“She just doesn’t seem like his type.”

“Right. Independent. Tattoo artist. Does her own thing.”

“I’m an independent artist who does her own thing, too. Why not me, Stinger?”

Aw, shit. I knew better than to engage in this conversation. “There aren’t rules about who people are attracted to. Anyway, I don’t know that she wants anything serious any more than he does. That’s probably part of the attraction for both of them.”

“I half expected him to be gone already. He’s always talking about moving on.”

“He will soon.”

“I know. It just sucks to think maybe he stuck around longer than he’d planned because of her. It’s been a year. That’s a long time for something casual.”

“We’ve probably all stuck around longer than we intended.”

“You got big plans for the future?”

“Nothing solid. Your shower is good to go.”

“Thanks. I’m still going to complain to Petra.”

“I’d be shocked if you didn’t, April.”

Wizard rolls over and meows. I wonder how much Ivy will like him when she finds out he’s a chipmunk killer. She roots for the underdog. Undersquirrel, whatever. April definitely won’t like Ivy if she finds out about the gentle nudges she has planned for Cujo.

she’s just nudging him about a tattoo all she wants. I know exactly what’s going on in her pretty head. And all too often, I think she knows what’s going on in mine, too.

Ivy

No Drumroll, Please

I log off andclose my laptop. Even with the days I slack off, I’m still meeting my deadlines. But I dread them more and more. It’s not that I don’t want to work. I need a job; I’m just not sure how much I want the one I’ve got anymore.

I knew I was bored with it before I ever left for Ivydell. Bored and restless. Why else would I have packed up and hit the road so easily? But I didn’t know how bored. I thought it was the same complacency everybody feels after a while on any job. Maybe it was. Still is?

Ivydell probably isn’t the place to make big decisions about my life outside of here. But it wasn’t just my job that I was bored with. I was hardly dating at all. Barely had any social life outsidework, and when I went out with coworkers, I’d end up mostly hanging out with Zara and ignoring everyone else.

My apartment wasn’t really a place I wanted to be either. Aside from the beach, I didn’t enjoy being anywhere. I went where I had to go or was expected to go. Necessary places.

Ivydell doesn’t expect anything from me. I’m unnecessary here, but I don’t want to leave. Maybe I’m not someone who needs to be needed after all. Or maybe I was, but I’m not anymore.

I don’t feel restless when I’m alone here. I still like having something to do, but I’m not bored. Doing nothing here doesn’t make me anxious. I’ve learned to just be sometimes without wanting to crawl out of my skin.

And then there’s Jensen. When we’re together, I know it’s because he wants to be with me, and I want to be with him, too. I’m never planning an exit strategy when we’re together. It wasn’t an instant attraction—okay, physically, it was—but I am so attracted to all of him now. His sense of humor, his grumpy moments, his generosity, his pain . . . I get it all.

The rest of the world would say we don’t really know each other, but I do know him. Because he’s let me, and he makes an effort to know me.

Opening up to someone new is usually a struggle for me, but it’s easier with him. Will my walls go back up after I leave? Part of me thinks he’s broken through them, but part of me is afraid I’ll build them back stronger. I've done it before.

I need some fresh air. The breeze is warm and gentle this afternoon, and it smells clean outside. Not like soap or detergent, more plantlike, but not flowers. Almost herbal, but not quite that either. Green, but not as sharp as fresh-cut grass. Just fresh.

April is painting in her yard. She stands in front of a canvas on an easel, and I’d love to go over and see it, but she’s prickly.Not sure she’d want anyone watching her work or peeking at an unfinished piece. I wave when she looks up. She returns the gesture, but she doesn’t call me over.

There are prairie dogs skittering around on the edge of Cujo’s driveway. A few of them are young. Gah, they’re so cute. They start chirping when they see me approach. I’d love to think they’re glad to see me, but they’re warning the others. Tall redhead encroaching. Beware!

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