Page 69 of Fighting

“Reynolds.” I nod, then return my full attention to Nessa. I’ve softly guided her to move away, angling to force him to watch the soft, chaste kiss we exchange. I do everything I can to sell the ease, the sweetness, the comfort between us, and she matches my energy perfectly.Because it isn’t fake, I reassure myself despite the niggling doubt that pops up like a rodent in a game of Whac-A-Mole.

I lean in to whisper in her ear, my lips skimming the thin skin of her neck, pointing out that Delia is holding seats and we can get away.

Her amber eyes lock with mine and she says a husky “yes please.” The words are a plea. Nessa doesn’t beg. What the hell did this fucker do to dim the fire in my woman so intensely?

Jim knocksthe gavel against the wooden podium, calling the room to attention. “Nice to see everyone here. I’m going to open the meeting by having Grant Morgan provide an update on his family’s prospective sale.”

“Thanks, Jimmy.” Grant and Jim shake hands and smile at the room, looking like dupes of the buyer they’re courting. If Caleb is a walking Brooks Brothers catalog, they’re Banana Republic Outlet.

I lean over to Nessa, smirking. “It’s like when Joey and Chandler try to be Richard but decide to flip a coin for who can have a mustache. It isn’t working, but it is damn funny.”

She bumps my arm with one shoulder, her body shaking with suppressed laughter, then tilts away from me. She repeats the comment to Delia, who looks at me with chipmunk cheeks full of air as she tries to not laugh.

Liam eyes me, so I mouth “knock-offs” in explanation and wags a finger, indicating the three men at the front.

“Upper. Hand,” he hisses.

With a huff, I settle back in my seat and force myself to listen to the bluster and self-aggrandizing going on up front.

When Jim returns to the podium, he begins a rundown of the upcoming community events. Albert, the town librarian, is a sweet old Dutch man in his seventies. He’s been a staple when it comes to literacy programs for as long as I can remember, always creating inventive ways to keep all ages engaged with reading.

“For the next twenty-one days, anyone who borrows twenty-one books, reads them, and fills out a review card for each will be entered into a contest generously sponsored by the Reynolds Group. We’ll be hosting…”

He tosses out the names of a Nobel Prize–winning author duo who will be visiting us to close the Sunflower Fest.

My muscles go rigid.Please don’t be impressed, I silently plead with the townsfolk in attendance. These are totally empty promises.

Unfortunately, a cursory glance shows I’m one of few people not believing this bullshit.

Nessa gently draws a finger up and down the veins bulging out of my fisted hand until I force myself to relax. When my fingers unfurl, she flips my palm upright and continues to draw lightly on the sensitive skin. It takes a few minutes to notice, but she’s spelling something over and over.

A curved line.

The letterU.

Quick loops and a line.

Okay.

Biting back a laugh, I grab her hand to make the tickling sensation stop, then lean in and whisper, “I’m okay.”

Caleb steps up to the podium and gives Bertie a double-handed shake, then takes over the microphone. “Good evening, everyone. Thank you for having me,” he says like the snake oil salesman he is.

I squeeze Nessa’s hand, watching as beads of sweat develop across her hairline.

twenty-nine

Nessa

Caleb is here,lying through his teeth and staring at me. As he speaks, he radiates superiority, his posture at the podium too casual and friendly.

He doesn’t even know these people. My blood boils as I’m forced to endure this farce. I’m cold yet sweating as his speech goes on for an eternity. .

The more Caleb pontificates on half-truths that will coerce the people I love to join him, the heavier the lead in my stomach becomes.

Knowing there are clauses to trap and bankrupt these good, hardworking, well-meaning people causes me to double over in pain.

I hiss out a breath during one particularly violent roll of my stomach, and Jim chides me. His use of the wordmissdrips with derision and disrespect.

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