Chapter 2

Ivy Wilkens was in a mood.

Had been ever since the fiasco on Saturday night at the Sundowner. She shouldn’t have gone to the bar. She knew that. And yet, like an idiot with a Montana-size chip on her shoulder, she’d walked into the place knowing the probability of a shitstorm was high and wanting it to happen .

And boy, had it ever.

There’d been punches thrown, a hole put through a wall, nasty words, and worse. It wasn’t her finest moment; she’d admit that to anyone, but it wasn’t entirely her fault, so why in hell were her mother’s panties in a knot? Geez.

Ivy wasn’t Mike Paul’s handler. Wasn’t in charge of his behavior. She hadn’t told him to throw a punch or put his fist through drywall. The fact that she’d had some pleasure in the whole mess shouldn’t matter. Not really.

The pleasure part had lasted about an hour after she’d left the bar, and now... well, now she was in this mood and couldn’t shake it. A mood that was ruining a perfectly good Tuesday morning.

“Jesus,” she muttered to herself as she stared down at the display of apples in front of her.

“I like them sweet.”

“What?” she said sharply, turning as Lafferty came into view.

He nodded at the apples before adding three huge bags of potato chips to their cart. “Those are granny smith and they’re too tart.” He winked, then nodded at a lady who giggled as she inched by them. “Ma’am.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. She was used to the circus Kip created when he was out in public. Hell, he was Kip freaking Lafferty. Son of Senator Brock Lafferty and his wife, Hollywood legend Ava Evans. His brother Duke was a mover and shaker on Wall Street, while his sister Collins, a nepo baby for sure, stormed the runways in Milan and Paris like she was meant for it. Which, with a mother like Ava, was a no-brainer.

Kip had been born into a dynasty that went back generations, with the proverbial golden spoon in his mouth; he was everything he should be and more.

As the starting shortstop with the Yankees, he’d gained more fame than most athletes dreamed of. His jersey sold out continually, and he’d been named to the all-star team for the past five seasons. Along with that fame came money (which he didn’t need) women (who he thoroughly enjoyed), and the kind of notoriety that fed the gossip rags and fueled a rabid fan base.

Tall, with shoulders a girl could hang from and the kind of abs you could bounce a quarter off of, he turned heads wherever he went. His smile was perfect. His gorgeous eyes were a shade past hazel, his chin strong, and his jawline rugged. His nose had been broken more than once, but damned if it didn’t make him even better looking. He had more charm in his little pinky than anyone on the planet.

Well, except for maybe Mike Paul, but she wasn’t wasting brain cells thinking about him . She hoped he’d broken his hand, is all.

Did that make her a bad person?

“Have you ever had an ugly day in your life?” she asked Kip with a scowl as she grabbed a bag and handed it to him.

His smile widened, and he reached past her to grab a few of the shiny red apples next to the offending green ones.

“I think I had an acne outbreak in the tenth grade.”

“You suck.”

“You love me anyway.”

His tone was cheeky, and she couldn’t help but chuckle, aware that a crowd was gathering and among them, none other than Mary Margaret Christchurch. The woman spewed more gossip during lunch at the Peach Cobbler than most teenage girls could wrangle up over twenty-four hours.

“We’d better wrap this up.” Ivy motioned to the group of women pretending to check out the display of apple cider jugs, while covertly taking photos of Kip with their phones. “You’ll be all over social media if we don’t.”

Kip tossed the bag of apples into her cart, and she pushed it forward, her goal the self-serve checkout line at the front of the store. She made it past produce and then the snack aisle, but as she headed toward international foods, Mary Margaret stepped in the way, a predatory smile on her face.

“There you are,” the woman said sweetly, turning her gaze to Kip. “I don’t think we’ve met Mr. Lafferty.” Mary Margaret held out her hand, her French manicure pristine. “I’m Mary Margaret. My boys are such fans.”

“Nice to hear.” Kip touched the brim of his ballcap.

“And to think someone like you has fallen for our very own Ivy Wilkens.” She laughed. “It’s like a fairytale, isn’t it?”

“Something like that,” he replied good-naturedly before slipping his arm around Ivy and pulling her close so he could drop a kiss on her cheek. “But then she’s so damn adorable, don’t you think?”

Ivy wiggled out of his embrace. “I don’t know if adorable is a word anyone has ever used when describing me.”

Mary Margaret nodded in agreement. “You’ve always been such a firecracker. Why, I remember a time when half the boys in your class were afraid of you.”

“Tell me more,” Kip said with a laugh.

“I think we’re good.” Ivy was done.

Ignoring her, Mary Margaret cranked her head to the side, her eyes narrowing. “And what was all that fuss about on Saturday night? I hear that poor Mike Paul nearly broke his hand he was so riled up.”

“You’d have to ask Mike Paul about that.” Ivy’s words were frosty.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s possible right now, hon.”

Hon? Irritated, Ivy should have shut up, but something inside her wouldn’t rest. “No? What’s going on with Mike Paul?”

Mary Margaret shook her head back and forth, slowly, that gleam in her eye now a full-on sparkle.

“Last I heard he was in the hospital. He’s had to call in another vet from the next county over to cover some of his calls. Mike Dingle’s prize quarter horse gave birth, and he wasn’t too happy about it.”

Hospital? Ivy’s heart skipped a beat and then ramped up so damn high she was sure every single person in Buck’s Grocery could hear it.

“Why is he in the hospital?” she asked crisply, caring more about the answer than she should.

“Oh, that I don’t know,” the woman responded, mouth pursed as she picked at the edge of her jacket.

“I find that hard to believe,” Ivy muttered under her breath.

“What was that dear?” Mary Margaret paused.

“Nothing.” Ivy pushed her cart a few inches ahead until Mary Margaret was forced to step aside. Kip followed her to the cash, and the two of them were able to buy their groceries without anyone else bothering them.

Outside, the brilliant sun shone down, making diamonds glitter across the snow, and she pulled on her sunglasses as they made their way through the parking lot to the truck. Once they were loaded up, Kip returned the cart while Ivy fired up the engine.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, debating whether to call Millie Sue or not. She’d know what was up with Mike Paul. She’d know why he was in the hospital. Know what had hap?—

“Are we going to talk about this guy or what?” Kip fastened his seatbelt and turned to her.

Startled—she hadn’t heard him slip inside—she took a moment, then shrugged. “What guy?” Eyes straight ahead, she put the truck in gear.

“Don’t play that game with me. You and I both know there’s a reason we’re engaged, and it’s not because we’re madly in love with each other.” He cracked a smile. “No offense.”

“None taken.” She replied dryly, holding up her ring finger. The large square-cut diamond still looked weird on her finger. She maneuvered the truck out of the parking lot, took a left, and headed toward downtown Big Bend.

“So, the reason you asked me to marry you was this Mike Paul guy,” Kip continued conversationally. “Why does he have two names?”

She shot him a dark look. “He only has one name.”

“I beg to differ. Mike is one. Paul is another.” Kip shrugged. “Just saying.” He waited a second or two. “Are you going to fill me in?”

She focused on the road and eased into the left lane. The last thing she wanted was to land in the hospital with Mike Paul in residence. “You could have said no.”

“To what?”

“My proposal.”

“There was a lot of tequila involved.”

She grinned at that. Kip always had a way of making her smile. It’s why they’d become such good friends. “Tequila and that awful kiss.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” he scoffed.

“Worst one I ever had.” They were at a traffic light, and she glanced his way and noted his annoyance. “What? It was.”

“You’re not good for my ego.”

“Your ego is big enough to take it, and anyway, I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure I’m the only female on the planet you’ve kissed who wasn’t blown away.”

“The light is green.” Kip lifted his chin. “Pretty sure the kiss sucked because you were wishing it was someone else.”

She didn’t answer him because he was right.

“This whole thing was a joke that got out of hand.” She gripped the steering wheel and made the next right.

“I don’t like to lose.”

“Neither do I.”

“It’s why we get along so well.”

“You bought this ring and took it to the next level.”

“You put it on and never took it off,” he replied dryly.

“It’s a pretty ring,” she quipped.

“It should be, considering it cost more than my first paycheck.”

She laughed. “You could have given me something fake. I would never have known the difference.” They came to a stoplight, and she glanced over. “Look, this started out as a game, but we can end it anytime you want to.”

“Your mom would be disappointed. I think she likes me.”

“I disappoint my mother on a daily basis.”

“Why did you tell your friends we were doing the deed on New Year’s Eve?”

The question caught her off guard and she made a face. “I can’t blame it on tequila, so let’s go with temporary insanity.”

“I think we can blame the guy with two names. The same one who tried to rearrange my face Saturday night.”

“I don’t want to talk about Mike Paul.”

“No?” Kip grinned and settled into his seat. “Do you want to hear what I think?”

“No.” Her tone was clipped, but he ignored her. Of course, he did. Did Kip Lafferty ever listen to anyone but himself?

“You’re in love with him. Have been for a long time. Probably since you were a teenager. But there’s a problem. He’s done something or crossed a line.”

She glanced at Kip. Was he psychic?

“And he’s a player.”

“Takes one to know one,” she retorted sharply, pulling into the parking lot of the Sundowner.

“Exactly.” Kip paused, his look suddenly serious. “Thing is, Ivy. Even players catch feelings and maybe?—”

“I don’t care what he says or does or feels,” she interrupted, “not anymore.” Kip Lafferty knew nothing about her and Mike Paul. Nothing about their history. Or how she’d wasted all of her twenties pining for a man who would never change. He would always be searching to one-up whatever was in front of him. Would always think there was something better around the corner. The night they’d shared had been a mistake, and if she hadn’t known it then, she sure as hell did a few weeks later.

When God created the commitment gene, Mike Paul had been screwing someone else’s wife.

“Then why am I here?”

“You were alone for the holidays.”

“True.” Kip reached for the door handle. “But I think there’s more to it.”

“Of course you do.” Irritated, she reached for the door handle.

“You needed a buffer. Something to keep Mike Paul at arm’s length.”

“And you needed an excuse not to see your family. Because that would mean facing your brother and Keely and all those questions about our fake engagement.”

His face darkened. “We’re not discussing me.”

“Good. Because I’m done discussing in general.”

He was silent for a few seconds and then opened the door with a sigh. “Guess we’re at a stalemate.”

They headed into the Sundowner to pick up takeout. It was barely four in the afternoon, but a good number of tables were filled with customers. She spied Zach, Millie Sue’s cousin and business partner, behind the bar. With Kip at her side, she made her way over, aware that every single head swiveled toward them. She kept a slow pace on purpose because she wanted to appear as if she didn’t give a flying crap that she was still the topic of conversation after the fiasco Saturday night. By the time she sat her butt onto a stool, her jaw ached from clenching her teeth.

“You’ve returned to the scene of the crime,” Zach said dryly as he tossed a rag onto the bar.

“I didn’t punch the wall.” Ivy glared at the man.

“No, you didn’t,” Zach replied good-naturedly with a wink. “Which is why the repair bill is going to Mike Paul. Just warn me the next time you two end up in here. Together.” He reached for a glass. “In a bad mood.”

She made a face. “Is my order ready?”

“Will be in fifteen minutes or so. Kitchen’s busy.” Zach handed her a diet coke while Kip ordered whatever was on tap before heading to the men’s room. Zach pushed over the frosty mug, and she drew circles in the condensation on her glass, eyes on the bartender.

“I hear he’s in the hospital.”

“Who’s that?” Zach asked.

“Mike Paul.”

“Oh. Yeah. I heard that, too.” Zach narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t you tell him to take a flying leap off of the jumping rock in the middle of winter when it’s frozen solid?”

“Without any clothes on.” She shrugged. “You forgot that part.”

“Trying not to visualize.”

She couldn’t believe she was asking. “Do you know why?”

His eyebrow rose questioningly. Why was every single man she encountered today pissing her off?

“He’s in the hospital.” She couldn’t have hidden the sarcasm if she tried.

Zach scratched his head and looked over her shoulder. “No clue, I mean, he looks fine to me.”

“How would you know?”

Zach raised his chin as if she was supposed to know what it meant. But then she froze. Wait. What?

“He’s here?” Ivy peered into the mirror on the wall behind Zach but couldn’t see shit.

“If I were to rate your mood on a scale of one to?—"

“I’m at a five,” she replied, shoulders so damn tight they felt as if they were made of stone.

“Shit. Okay. Well, try to think about puppies and rainbows because he’s headed this way, and I don’t want another hole in the wall.”

“Who’s he with?” she asked quickly.

“Cal and Millie Sue.” Zach’s eyes widened. “Crap,” he muttered.

“What?” Ivy yanked her head around just in time to see Kip walk out of the men’s room. He stopped to chat with a table of guys who had hauled out their cell phones for some pictures. So far, Mike Paul hadn’t seen him.

She exhaled slowly as she eyed up the only man on the planet who could make her so mad she couldn’t see straight.

Mike Paul looked good. Too damn good to be honest. His thick hair waved from underneath a black knit hat, and he’d pulled on a red and black plaid coat. His smile was devastating, his eyes too damn sexy, and his voice was like melted chocolate with a bit of rasp. God had a bad sense of humor gifting such things to a man who used them every day. All day. With anyone who was interested.

Which was pretty much every single female that crossed his path. As always, her body reacted to him in a way that pissed off her brain. Would she ever be free from the pull she felt?

She saw the exact moment Mike Paul spied Kip. The smile slowly left his face, and his expression went from something light to something much more serious. He said a few words to Cal and Millie Sue, then squared his shoulders and walked toward Kip.

“Are you kidding me,” Zach growled. “I swear I’ll call the sheriff if he starts something up.”

On edge, she could do nothing but watch and hope like hell both men played nice. But then something peculiar happened. Something totally out of line with the previous Saturday night’s shenanigans. Mike Paul offered his hand to Kip, and after a few moments, Kip shook it. They talked a bit, and then both of them looked her way. Before Ivy could escape or hide, Mike Paul began to move. In her direction .

Ivy didn’t know if she wanted to punch him in the face, kick him in the balls, or something worse. In any case, she had no choice but to talk to the one man in Big Bend she wished would go away forever. Because Kip was right. As much as she would like to deny it, Ivy was still in love with Mike Paul.

He stopped in front of her. “Hey,” he said slowly. “Can we talk?”

No. She said the word in her mind, but it stayed there. Hidden behind all of those feelings she was so desperately trying to lose. She’d grown a thick skin specifically for this man, but she wasn’t so sure it would hold fast. Especially when she did stupid things like shrug and say nothing, which was worse than if she’d told him to go to hell.

She should have gotten off the stool and run for the hills. Or, body-checked him or snapped her fingers and made him disappear because that thick skin wasn’t enough.

Mike Paul gave a half smile, the kind that melted most women’s panties in two seconds flat. And then slid onto the stool beside her.

God, it wasn’t nearly enough.