Page 19 of Battle of the Exes

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, pointing at Beau like I’m the lead detective and he’s been caught red-handed.

Beau gestures to my sister. “Because Rue asked for my help and I can provide it.”

“How?”

“After Rue called, I reached out to my author clients. They’re all coming next Sunday to Silver Pine. We’ll have full press coverage, social media influencers, the works. Feel-good PR.”

“How selfless.”

Beau glares at me then rises to his feet. He’s mere inches away from me, his nostrils flaring, jaw tense. We lock eyes. We’re engaged in a staring showdown.

I wait for him to explode. Instead, he sighs. “Thank you, Rue and Gary for a lovely evening. Jasper, let’s go.”

Jasper trails after him.

As they walk out the door, Rue gives me a witheringlook while Gary and Lulu take the nearly filled trays back to the kitchen. They’re practically tiptoeing past as if avoiding a land mine while balancing pigs in blankets.

With Beau gone, I turn down the raging fire inside me to a low boil. “Beau is up to something, Rue.”

I’m waiting for her to agree, to be my ally. Instead, she says, “If it helps save the Quill then I don’t care.”

She walks away, leaving me with a pit in my stomach and an annoying twinge of remorse.

Chapter Sixteen

Beau

Iwake before the sun, groggy and twisted up in sheets that might as well be made of barbed wire. I spent much of the night tossing and turning while Ivy’s voice replayed in my head like a skipping record.

Rusty lets out a low whine from his spot by the door, tail thumping against the floor. He’s slower to get up in the mornings but not today. The second I move, he’s already standing, ears perked. Guess I’m not the only one who needs fresh air.

We head out just as the sky starts to lighten. This early, the air is cool but not biting, and the spring thaw has turned the edges of the trail to soft mud. Frost laces the pine needles, the kind that’ll be gone in an hour but right now sparkles with the first rays of morning.

The woods behind my place stretch uphill,not steep, but enough to get my legs burning. Rusty trots ahead, his tail wagging like he’s five years younger. He pauses to sniff at every log.

The trail is still quiet, tranquil. Just birdsong and the crunch of leaves under my boots. Exactly what I need to settle the storm brewing in my head.

That woman is infuriating.

I get Ivy wanting to protect her family’s bookstore. I get being wary of me. But everything I’m doing is for the Quill. And somehow I’m still the bad guy in her eyes.

I stop near a bend where the trail opens to a wide view of town. From here, I can see the rooftops, the church spire, even a sliver of the bookstore’s awning.

Ivy thinks I’m all show. Well, she’s wrong.

This festival’s happening, and it’s going to be a hit. With or without her vote of confidence. It’s going to be incredibly gratifying seeing the look on her face when it all comes together.

Maybe then she’ll see I’m not the man she thinks I am.

Rusty trots back to me and sits, tongue out, waiting for me to move. I pat his head.

“Come on, boy,” I say. “We’ve got work to do.”

Chapter Seventeen

Ivy

Sitting on my sister’s back porch, I absorb the peace that surrounds me. My fleece sweater and steaming mug are enough to stave off the morning chill. I take my first sip of coffee, the full-bodied flavor and roasty aroma awakening my senses. Morning dew glistens beneath the brightening sky. I close my eyes, focusing on the sounds I never hear in the city. The flutter of wings in the trees, the chirp of chipmunks peeking their heads out of their dens. The world is lazily waking up.

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