Page 34 of By the Book

“Very, even Ivy danced tonight,” Wren replies cheerfully.

I turn and raise an eyebrow at the gorgeous woman flanking my side. “You dance?” I ask through a smile. She drops her gaze to her feet again, a faint smile playing at her lips.

“When Poppy begs us all to join her for one song, I dance.”

A hum escapes me as we reach an intersection and I drape an arm around her shoulder, guiding her in the direction of my Defender. When Ivy leans into my embrace, effectively tucking herself against me, I regret not parking further away.

We all cross the street, and as the road curves, a small pink storefront comes into view. Ivy tilts her head, studying it as we approach.

“La Petite Confiserie,” she reads from the sign above the door. A realization shows on her face as she comes to a halt. The rest of us follow suit, Stevie nearly knocking right into Ivy. “This is where the chocolates come from.”

“The what?” Wren asks.

But Ivy looks to me instead. “This place is a tiny local shop. The kind that only sells their candy in this one location.”

“That’s an interesting assumption,” I reply calmly.

“No, there’s a sign.”

I look to where she’s pointing in the window. There is indeed a sign that reads ‘New England Sweets and Treats Award Winner—get your famous chocolates here only.’

Well, shit. What are the chances?

“Okay, so not much of an assumption then.”

“Do you come up here to get those?” Ivy asks me, her voice barely audible.

“Let’s go, my little Sherlock.” I grab her hand, lacing our fingers together and giving her a tug.

“What did we miss?” Stevie whispers loudly behind us.

“I’m not sure, but we definitely missed something,” Poppy replies.

Ivy

My brain is reeling as much from the man beside me as it is from the wine. Tripp has been going out of his way for me for quite some time, it would seem. Each time I think about it, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreads through me anew. Like a wave of excitement and desire crashing against my heartstrings.

In the backseat, my friends have stolen control of the music—not that Tripp put up a fight—and have been dancing to Taylor Swift for the duration of the drive. Poppy had insisted that it’s the only music that can make this a true girls’ night. They bounce together, leaning on one another as they belt out the lyrics they know by heart. A few times, they try to pull me into the songs with them, leaning up over my seat to get my attention.

And I know all the words too. But there’s nothing in this world that can pull my attention from Tripp right now. I study his profile, committing every perfect detail to memory. The sharp jawline, the shadow of stubble, the aquiline nose.

He gives me a sidelong glance, but he’s been guarded since the chocolate shop. I need him to understand how much his actions mean to me.

“Tripp—” I start as we pass the Welcome to Foxport sign.

“We’re home!” Wren cheers.

“We were all going to stay at my house,” Stevie offers, her face popping up from the backseat between us. “You can just take us there. Up near Maple Hill.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tripp replies, looking at me instead.

Stevie gives him directions the remainder of the drive, bringing us to a stop in front of her cottage. One by one, my friends pile out, offering thanks on their way.

“Take your time, Ivy,” Stevie calls as she ushers Wren and Poppy up to her front door.

I turn to Tripp and place my hand on his knee. “About the chocolates… I’ve never had anyone go out of their way for me like that,” I tell him.

“You’re worth it, and then some, Ivy.” His gaze is smoldering, moving between my eyes and my hand placement.

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