Page 37 of By the Book

“Alright, then eat up before this meeting.” I turn back to my own sandwich, pausing with it halfway to my mouth. “And next time I catch you trespassing, I’m taking you in rather than taking you to lunch.”

She bats her eyes at me innocently. “You would arrest me?”

“I’d be able to keep a better eye on you that way,” I mutter.

“I’ll be a good girl, Sheriff. I promise,” she says, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

A cough escapes me, caught off guard by her comment. Between her running her hand up my thigh yesterday and these not so innocent little comments, tension has begun to coil so tight within me, I might just snap.

Chapter 16

Ivy

The route from the harbor to town hall is idyllic with warm, rich hued trees, and homes that have gone all out with harvest decor. We make our way past a low stone wall, small orange pumpkins lined up all along it.

“I’ve been wondering about something you mentioned the other day,” Tripp says beside me.

My scarf dances in the breeze and I train it down so I can look over at him. “What’s that?”

“You were talking about your job in New York, about being in publishing.”

“Mhm, my title was editorial assistant.”

“But for as long as I’ve known you, you wanted to write. I remember how you would lock yourself away when inspiration struck you. You’d spend hours, days even, creating a whole world in your head. I always thought it was so impressive.”

I’m silent beside him, partially disappointed that everything he’s saying is in the past, and partially amazed that he noticed. I take a step forward, grinding the toe of my boot into a small array of fallen leaves. I always thought that Wren, Poppy, and Stevie were the only ones to know about my writing, aside from my mom. And now to learn that Tripp, of all people, has noticedthis vulnerable side of me, it’s causing a tightening sensation in my chest.

I hear him take a few steps to stand before me and when I look up, his mouth is drawn into a tight line. “Why did you switch from writing to being an editorial assistant?”

I shrug, moving forward once again. He doesn’t press me for an immediate response. Instead, he falls into step beside me, as near as we can get without actually embracing one another. I wish he’d grab for my hand like last night in Fenbury. But we are close to town square and any number of prying eyes could come around the corner.

“I don’t actually know. I did write a whole book. In college,” I admit, surprising myself. Apparently, he is becoming the person for all my secrets. “When the time came, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything with my manuscript. I thought I’d still get a hand in things at the publishing house, that it would be enough.”

“Have you ever thought about writing again? You can do that alongside running the store.”

I tilt my head in thought. It hadn’t occurred to me for some time, honestly. I’d been so focused on my dad’s health, and then everything that went into opening a business. And figuring out how to maintain a business. But it would be possible once I had The Open Book up and running again.

“Maybe,” I reply. “Maybe I could.”

We are nearing town hall when I spot three of Tripp’s deputies approaching from the other direction. My mind flashing back to the investigation.

“You’re going to have to talk tonight, aren’t you?”

He nods, a resigned look in his eyes. “I have a feeling I’ll be talking quite a bit.”

“But you said you plan to keep everything under wraps. So, you have to go up there and act like you know nothing?” Myheart aches for the way the town is going to treat him when he’s just doing the right thing to protect them from one of their own.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He shrugs, but the movement is stiffer than usual. We crest the stairs to the front doors of town hall and turn to the right, nearing the annex that houses the gatherings.

“I wish you could just like, get fingerprints from the keys and bust him already,” I whisper. “Wait!” I grab his arm as we reach the meeting hall’s doorway. “Can you get fingerprints from the keys?”

The corner of his mouth tilts into a knowing smile. He leans down until his lips nearly brush the shell of my ear. A tempting shiver rushes over me from his closeness, and in front of the town no less.

“Let’s say I could get prints from the keys. Any chance that they would belong to you?” He nods over to my friends, already seated towards the front. “Or Stevie, Poppy, and Wren?”

He gives a little tug on one of my curls before straightening and taking a step away. My face heats, but it seems to amuse Tripp because the stiffness from his posture is gone, and he shoots me a wink before turning to approach the mayor.

I follow the nondescript beige carpet across the back of the room and turn up the far side to reach my friends. They’ve saved a group of wooden folding chairs around them, and as I approach, Wren removes her purse from the spot beside her.

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