Claiming Fate: A rivals-to-lovers small-town romance Read online

  I purse my lips instinctively in response to his dark expression. This boy’s sphincter is drawn up so tense he probably hasn’t taken a shit for days.

  He might be nice to look at, but he is one hard-headed ass.

  “I am not here to argue with you. But I am going to ask you to please cease and desist.”

  Finally, that face cracks into a sideways smile, like a little boy who’s just found his currency with his exhausted mother. Lucky for him, I ain’t his mother because I might have a mind to put him over my knee. Also, too bad for him; I’m far from exhausted.

  “On what grounds?”

  “Copyright infringement.”

  Danny barks a laugh. “Good luck with that.”

  And then I blurt out a word salad because he’s distracted me with a sudden sense of humor. “Sir, I do not need you to wish me luck; you need to wish for your own luck, because when I come back here, it’s going to be with an actual cease and desist letter from the city attorney’s office.”

  He chuckles. “Ooh. Legal letterhead. I’m so scared.”

  “You ought to be.”

  He points at me, which is so rude I can hardly believe it. “Are you threatening me with legal action?”

  “Hey,” I say, biting back a guffaw, “You figured it out. Way to go. Shall I add a sticker to your smart chart?”

  Okay, I admit, that might be a bridge too far. But dagnabbit, this dude brings it out in me.

  “My what?” He narrows his eyes at me, seemingly not knowing whether to accuse me of something or be offended.

  I step closer, and I’m inches away from his body. So close that his breath moves my side-swept bangs, sending chill bumps down my back. “Take this exhibit down or face the consequences.”

  For the first time since this encounter began, he shows me his teeth, and I finally see him for who he is. Danny Bryce is a predator.

  His lips pull back into a hard, evil smile. “Bring it on, little mama. Bring it all on.”

  With a withering look from me, I spin and bolt from the pavilion. It’s suddenly very stuffy in there, despite the open-air situation. The air is close, my knees are sweating. Which is weird, because my knees do not sweat.

  But that’s just what happens every time I spend too much time in Fate. Weirdness.

  Chapter Four

  Danny

  Our discussion spills outside of the pavilion, where I find Ernestine standing amongst the crowd, obviously listening in to my discussion with Izzy.

  “Excuse me,” Izzy blurts as she tries not to knock the matriarch clean over as she leaves. That’s a mean feat, as Ernestine is so blatantly eavesdropping that she’s blocking the walkway.

  I should not be surprised that my discussion with Izzy has drawn the attention of the people waiting in line at the face painting station. I look over, and both Rex and his girlfriend Juniper are staring at me with raised, questioning eyebrows.

  I briefly shrug at them because hell if I know what’s going on, and then follow Izzy to her car. That’s when I realize why she seems familiar. I recognize her vehicle from the lot at Ruby’s. I don’t have a specific reason other than habit to check the make and model of every car in every lot in Fate — and, granted, there aren’t that many parking lots. I’ve seen that Jeep before. Black, clean as a whistle, with a tag that reads, “RETROGRL.”

  Now it all makes sense. She could be a 1980s version of the 1950s, but in a cute kind of way.

  Because there’s never any kerfuffle that goes on in Fate without Ernestine knowing about it, the senior citizen ambles over in a snit. At least that woman doesn’t pretend not to be nosy, which is more than I can say for other people who eavesdrop.

  God, what a pest.

  “What in the Samuel G. Hill is going on, Daniel?” Ernestine’s hands are on her hips. “Who was that? What does she want? Why’re you so flustered?”

  I’m watching Izzy drive off, trying to ignore Ernestine, but that comment grabs my attention. “Who? What, I’m not flustered.”

  She clucks, “And I’m Colonel Sanders. Get yourself together and tell me what she wants before I call an emergency meeting to discuss whatever it is that you two have been discussing.”

  I give Ernestine my most rigid stare, and maybe I’m a little too harsh with her. She’s got my number; I am flustered. “You go ahead and call one of your bullshit meetings, Ernestine, and you can set the agenda because I know you already know exactly what’s going on because you were listening the entire time!”

  She puffs out her cheeks in much the same way as she used to do when she was my first-grade teacher. “Now listen here, young man. If Gold Hill wants us to abandon this world’s largest ball of yarn exhibit, then by golly, we’re better off promoting something else about our town. We’ve got lots of local flavor to offer without this boondoggle. You know Gold Hill can run us into the ground in legal fees. I always knew we should stick with what we know. I knew we spent too much money on this entire thing….”

  I can’t take anymore, and I completely lose my cool. “Ma’am, the world’s largest ball of yarn exhibit cost this town exactly zero dollars and zero cents. You were there when we hired Juniper Rollins and that knitting circle to oversee the whole thing for free. I paid for a roll of tickets out of my own pocket. I can say the same for everybody here that any expenses incurred were absorbed by volunteers. You’re the only one here who wants to roll over and let this town fester and die, Ernestine. Well, the rest of us are fighters, and you can join us or watch from the sidelines. With or without you, Fate will be just fine, believe it or not. So why don’t you stick that in your Curiosity Spot!”

  And with that Oscar-bait performance, I’m out.

  I’ve got bigger fish to fry than Ernestine Jenkins, and it starts with putting that assistant to the mayor of Gold Hill in her place.

  Just as soon as I come up with a strategy while shooting some hoops.

  Chapter Five

  Izzy

  “Just who does that backwoods grass cutter think he is?”

  My cat, Tater Tot, mews in response.

  “I wasn’t asking you,” I say irritably.

  I immediately feel bad and pick him up for hugs and kisses.

  We’re cuddling on the sofa, discussing the can of worms I just opened.

  I’m hoping Danny Bryce takes my advice and shuts down that ridiculous exhibit before my uncle Stan gets wind of it.

  Of course, my implied legal threat was just that. Implied. I would never file suit against a neighboring town. I’m sure if I brought it up with the town attorney, he might want to pursue it. I mean, why not? He’s got nothing else to do.

  But I’ve already checked the town charter, and the legal fund pool only covers the town if someone sues us. Not if we initiate a suit. If I decide to push this forward, it’ll cost us money.

  On top of that, there’s something else. “I really don’t feel like bankrupting a tiny town like Fate, Tater Tot. I mean, they’re a bunch of loons. But if we drag them through the mud, we’re going to look like giant assholes by comparison.”

  Tater Tot mewls a bit more as if he’s trying to egg me on to say more words.

  “What?” I ask. “You think there’s another reason?”

  He blinks up at me with judgment in those golden eyes. Or I’m projecting.

  All of a sudden, someone is pounding on my door.

  I check my monitor, and, sighing heavily, I rise to answer it.

  “Hi, Uncle Stan.”

  His red face and bulging eyes tell me he’s built up a head of steam about something.

  “You got a minute?” He flashes a yellow poster at me. Oh, shit.

  Sucking in a breath like I’m waiting for the explosion, I stand aside. “Come on in.”

  I say nothing but go to the kitchen, dropping Tater Tot onto a kitchen chair while I make some tea for Uncle Stan.

  “Did you know about this?” I hear his fingers tapping on the paper.

  “Not until today,” I say.
br />   “Now, I thought you said you’d been listening in on those meetings at the diner. Did you not hear about it before today?”

  I think back on past meetings while the kettle boils and I grab my uncle’s favorite mug. Now, I’ve heard all sorts of chatter at those meetings. What has always resonated the most—awakened me in my sleep in a bothersome sweat—has been the deep baritone voice of Danny Bryce, reading off the minutes. I swear. He might be a stubborn hothead, but damn he can make me listen to those boring minutes.

  “I have heard passing mentions of the knitting club, and a special exhibition at the park. But it was always very vague because it was being organized by volunteers. I didn’t think anything of it.”

  I pour the tea and hand him a cup. He hates it when I try to calm his nerves with chamomile, so I mask the taste with a fruity herbal tea on top of that. “Maybe I need to clarify your mission.”

  I remind my uncle, “My job is to be assistant to the mayor, not your personal spy.”

  “It ain’t spying if you’re attending a city council meeting. It’s a public event.”

  “And if they knew I was there to listen, which it would have been legitimate to do, they would have edited themselves.”

  This is where Uncle Stan loses it.

  “Well, it sure as hell sounds like they edited themselves so much already that you missed the fact that they are trying to outdo us on our world’s largest ball of thread!”

  My eyes hurt. It’s late. I’m tired. Frustrated. I was all of those things plus horny about five minutes ago, but the presence of Uncle Stan quashed that. So maybe I should be grateful that he’s here, but I just want him to go.

  He sips his tea and makes a face. Guess I didn’t mask the chamomile as well as I thought I did.

  “You trying to put me to sleep?”

  “Or lower your blood pressure. Take your pick.”

  He sighs and scrubs a palm over his face. “Sweetheart, you know I just want what’s best for you. But being the mayor is…well, it’s plain and simple. It’s a pain in my ass.”

  I shake my head at him. “Then why do you keep running?”

  “I do what people expect of me. I do my duty. When your daddy died, he made me promise to keep this town growing.”

  “And you have!” I remind him.

  “I just don’t want us to end up a laughing stock. Because that’s what Fate is doing. They’re laughing at us.”

  Uncle Stan looks tired. I feel bad for making him worry. He’s got a lot on his shoulders, and I’ve let him down. I need to do better. Double my efforts to put Fate in its place.

  And I know just where to start. No man has ever made me back down, and Danny Bryce is about to be the next one to give me what I want.

  Chapter Six

  Danny

  “Dude, where were you?” Covered in sweat from pickup basketball at the elementary school gym, Rex approaches me where I’m shooting hoops alone in my driveway.

  “Sorry, buddy. I had some thinking to do.”

  “Must be serious.”

  Pretending I have to keep my eyes on the ball as I slowly dribble, I ask him where Juniper is.

  “She and the knitting club decided to have an impromptu meeting to hash over the event this morning. They’re already planning next year’s event,” he replies.

  “She stays awful busy for a volunteer. I sure do appreciate her. The whole town appreciates her.”

  I bounce the ball several times while I’m thinking.

  Rex sniffs. “Easy, Danny. It almost sounds like you have a crush on my girl.”

  I would never, of course, and I pick up the sarcasm right away. At least I have that going for me.

  I shoot from the free-throw line. Rex grabs the ball after it bounces off the backboard and flies in his direction. “You shouted at two women today, left us all high and dry in the middle of the grand opening, didn’t show up for pick-up basketball, and now your shooting is pathetic. What’s wrong with you?”

  Rex shoots and scores a three-pointer as casually as tying his shoe. Jerk.

  “Nothing.”

  Rex passes the ball to me, and I dribble it, slowly jogging toward the basket. It should be an easy layup, but Rex is suddenly there, boxing me out, and I end up chucking an airball.

  “Now you’re just rubbing my nose in it,” I accuse.

  “Did someone rattle the big man’s cage?” Rex feints right as I try to steal the ball, then dodges left, laughing as I trip over my feet, going in the wrong direction. He turns, shoots and scores again. “This attitude wouldn’t have anything to do with that woman in the pink jacket, would it?”

  “No!” My reply is a little too loud. A dead giveaway. “But if she thinks she can show up in my town and tell me what to do with my ball of yarn, she’s got a truckload of thinks coming.”

  I’m not even bothering to dribble or shoot now; I’m grasping the basketball between my upper arm and my torso and pointing at the ground for emphasis with my opposite hand. I’m sure I look like I’m having a temper tantrum, and I don’t even care.

  The look Rex gives me indicates that he thinks my behavior has everything to do with Izzy. Now that I examine my words, I definitely think she is the source of my problems today.

  “She didn’t believe me when I told her it was a different thing. They have thread, or twine, or whatever; I’m not an expert. We have yarn. But she wouldn’t listen. Maybe if you’d listened to my idea over a year ago to put something legitimately into the Guinness Book of World Records instead of half-assing this ball of yarn and calling it the world’s biggest, that annoying woman would not be up my ass and around the corner.”

  Once again, I’ve blown my top and said the wrong thing.

  Calmly, slowly, Rex walks over, takes the ball from me, and says, “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just insult my girlfriend and this entire town. Sort it out before you add any more apologies to be made to that long list of people you’re piling up. Have a good night.”

  I follow him to his truck. “Wait,” I say, grabbing his shoulder. Rex turns and levels me with that stare that could put me in the ground.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “Here’s what’s going on. I’m jealous, so I snapped at you.”

  “Jealous of what?”

  Although I’m feeling too exposed, I tell him the truth. “For the longest time, we were the single guys. I felt like I could relate to you. And now you’ve got this whole new life, and I don’t have anything.”

  Rex watches me for an uncomfortably long time with that icy stare. “Do what you have to do to change your life. Or I don’t know. Go jerk off. But whatever you do, just remember we’re all still your friends. You can’t afford to lose us.”

  His truck is halfway down the road before I realize he took my ball with him.

  After I shower and turn in for the night, I’m still not satisfied enough with what I’ve accomplished today to go to sleep.

  I had a long to-do list to finish off after the grand opening, and I’ve done none of it.

  I shame myself for wasting so much of my day sulking and thinking about Izzy, when she has no doubt thought about me zero times.

  I try to sleep, but every time I close my eyes, I see her face. Her smirking red lips. Her violet eyes accented by the black-winged eyeliner. Her soft black hair in sexy waves around her face. Maybe I’m equally at fault for disrespecting Izzy the way I did. Maybe she’s right. Maybe we are infringing on their copyrighted display, whatever that means.

  Should I apologize? Do I want to?

  I close my eyes again and, this time, keep them closed until I fall asleep.

  Izzy comes to me in my dream, wearing a Lynda Carter Wonder Woman outfit. I’m tied up in her lasso, except unlike the ‘80s TV show, the rope is about fifty feet long, and she’s pulling me in inch by inch. She’s exerting herself; her skin glistens with perspiration, and her teeth grit. Her nostrils flare like a rabbit and she grunts. I’m doing nothing to help her except watching her, listening t
o her scold me and tell me how wrong I am. Her breasts heave with the effort of dragging me.

  And then, out of nowhere, someone throws a bucket of warm water at me.

  My mind, thinking I’ve wet the bed, startles me awake.

  Only I haven’t wet the bed. I’ve just had a wet dream about that annoying woman. And now on top of everything else, I need to wash my sheets.

  Chapter Seven

  Izzy

  Today is a good day to focus on a project.

  Just as I’m ass-deep into sketching out what’s going to be my mural on my bedroom wall, my friend Jodie strolls over to my house. She’s brought her sleeping baby and an additional bundle of gossip.

  I’m thrilled to see her because I’ve been feeling so unsettled since yesterday. And I’m super happy to see baby Wade.

  The little pudgy face looks angelic while he’s sleeping in his stroller, and I’m thankful that Jodie gets a break when he sleeps so deeply.

  She settles into a floor cushion with a cup of coffee while I work on my sketch and tells me about all the latest news from everyone in town.

  Everyone—literally everyone we’ve ever known—seems to be married with babies right now.

  My sketch comes together while she’s talking, and I’m so into the latest gossip that I barely notice what I’m drawing.

  “Who is that?”

  Startled, I turn to glance at Jodie, who is pointing at what I’ve just sketched.

  I look, and I see that I’ve just penciled in a face with dark hair, scruff, and gray eyes. The figure’s big shoulders are lifting something heavy and round over his head.

  “Is that Atlas or something?”