Page 26 of Battle of the Exes

I share the current numbers, gratified by her widening eyes.

“That’s amazing.”

I nod, gratified by the lack of sarcasm. “The numbers are solid, but most of it will go toward the venue and other overhead expenses. Since I’m waiving my fee, about twenty percent will go to the Quill.”

Her head tilts as she squints at me. “Waiving your fee? What are you up to, Beau Carter?”

Seriously? What does a man have to do?

But she’s already moved on, tapping numbers into her phone’s calculator. “It’s enough to tide us over for acouple more months but not enough to keep us running long-term.”

“It’s a start.”

“I see you’re still the optimist.”

“Guilty as charged.”

We hold each other’s gaze for a beat.

She blinks first, then stands, packing up her things. “I’ll need to check out the venue.”

I walk her to the door, wishing she’d stick around a bit longer, but her bearing tells me that’s not going to happen.

“Tomorrow. Eleven a.m. at the rec center,” I call out as she reaches her car.

An annoyed but adorable grimace is the only indication I have that she heard me.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ivy

By the time I leave Beau’s place, I’m confused. Less about the festival than about him. Despite his usual bossy, know-it-all act, he was surprisingly agreeable. And unless I’m imagining things, borderline jealous.

But it’s more than that. He remembered my favorite candy. Chocolate-covered cherries. And my all-time favorite movie.Field of Dreams.Maybe quoting that line was a coincidence. Still, it stuck with me.

I shake off the odd sensation, reminding myself who I’m dealing with. A tricky two-timer.

Granted, I was poking the bear, letting him think I’m interested in Jasper. No idea why I did that but the look on his face was totally worth it. Served him right. That stubbled jaw, his graying hair only making him moremagnetic, jumpstarting my pulse, and sending searing heat up my neck.

Then he ruined it with that overconfident tone.That’s why it’s called a pop-up, Ivy...I have significant contacts.

His smugness drives me up the wall. But that’s not what bothered me most. It was the house.

Ourhouse. Or the one that was supposed to be.

Neither of us brought it up. Maybe he thinks I forgot.

The updates were exactly what we’d talked about back then. The indoor-outdoor flow, that huge west-facing window catching every drop of sunset over the mountains.

I reach the stop sign at the bottom of Summit Ridge Road and call Rue, asking if she can meet me later for dinner, just the two of us. I need to debrief. I spend the rest of the afternoon working at her house while she’s at the bookstore.

I’m a few minutes early for dinner so I stop by the Quill to pick her up. Seeing my face, she says, “Let’s hear.”

I tell her about Peaks and Prose, the festival funding, and Beau’s house. How it’s the same one he and I wanted to buy together.

She’s about to weigh in when her gaze lands past my shoulder. “Uh oh.”

I turn to see Beau standing out front, looking in.

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