Page 9 of Battle of the Exes

A young woman with a child in tow stops to look in the window. She takes a photo of the flyer about Jasper. I see her mouth, “Wow.”

Jasper has a following spanning every age demographic. Psychological thrillers have hit the market big time and Jasper got in at the perfect moment.

“I just assumed you’d send someone else to accompany Jasper.”

I know what she means, but I say, “I’m the only one he’ll work with.”

Rue bites her lip. “I see . . .”

“What is it?”

“You’re never going to believe this.”

At first, I’m not sure what she’s alluding to but a tingle goes up the back of my neck. “Is she?—”

Rue nods, a frown taking residence on her face.

Ivy is here. In Silver Pine. “I’m sure we can all be adults about this. Right?” I muster an upbeat tone.

By the look on her face, the answer is clear.

My ex-wife is in town and she ain’t gonna be too happy to see me.

Chapter Seven

Ivy

I’m standing on the street, watching people flow into the Quill and I wish it was always this way. After reviewing this quarter’s books with Rue, I now understand how dire the situation is. I told her we’d figure something out, a way to buy more time but that was me playing big sister, putting a positive—though admittedly unrealistic—spin on what appears to be inevitable. The end of the road for The Silver Quill.

I push aside my worry, trying to stay in the moment.

Edging my way in the door, I’m as excited as the first time I saw Prince in concert. I’m about to meet my literary hero.

My breath catches as I spot Jasper Kensington standing at a podium next to a life-size banner of himholding his book. Seems redundant but I’m completely fine with it. More than fine.

Okay, I’m star-struck but he looks as handsome as his author picture. Wavy brown locks, chocolatey eyes that could melt an ice storm in January. He’s hands-down the sexiest writer alive. Did I mention the hair?

I’ve worked in journalism for years, having met many acclaimed authors but Jasper and I have never crossed paths. That is about to change.

His gaze flickers my way, holding it for a beat. I can’t look away. Not even to search for my sister. I’ll track her down in due time.

The crowd is settling. I want to make my move before he begins, before I lose my nerve. I scan the place for Rue and catch a quick glimpse. She’s perfectly in her element, chatting with a guy wearing a cowboy hat. His back is to me but something about his posture is vaguely familiar.

I look around the room with pride. Mom and Dad really built something special here, but it’s Rue who nurtured relationships with loads of writers, agents and publishers. Enough to fill the room during low season.

Once everyone finds their seats, I spot an empty chair in the first row. Now or never. My heart pounds as I run witty remarks through my head. I pull back my shoulders and stride down the side aisle, head high, fully prepared to charm the pants off Jasper Kensington.

I’m nearly there when I trip over Darcy, lying at the foot of the desk. Everything shifts into slow motion and like a domino effect, the pup scrambles to her feet, knocking over the standing banner which falls onto thetable beside Jasper, missing him by a hair. He leaps out of the way, toppling the piles of books to the floor as I pummel forward.

The crowd lets out a collective gasp as I prepare for impact. I slam into some poor guy’s chest, horrified that everyone in the packed room just witnessed my acrobatics. Like magic, strong arms grab hold, steadying me.

I pick up the scent of cedar. And trouble.

I look up, blinking in disbelief.

No, no, no.

Beau Carter, my ex-husband, the man I haven’t seen in twenty years has his arms firmly around my bare midriff, his ten-gallon knocked off his head. Thanks to my mortifyingly clumsy display, both my shirt and skirt are hiked way past where they should be.

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