Page 67 of At First Spark
Ivy sits to Holt’s right. Bailey takes the chair beside Lila. Claire remains standing long enough to make sure everyone has food before finally lowering herself into the remaining seat with the sort of satisfaction that belongs to women who believe they’ve solved a problem simply by feeding it.
Maybe they’re right.
Conversation begins around me before I fully step into it. Holt immediately asks where the rest of the family was. (At the movies with his niece and nephew). Bailey asks about theinn first. Practical, direct, and kind enough to leave me room to answer without turning it into something bigger than I can hold.
“Better than yesterday,” I say, cutting into chicken that tastes so much better than anything I’ve eaten in the last forty-eight hours that it almost feels cruel. “Worse than last week. About where I expected, if I’m being honest.”
“That’s a very contractor answer,” Bailey says.
“It’s a survival answer,” Lila counters.
Hadley nudges my elbow with hers. “Same thing, depending on the week.”
I look down at my plate for a second, then at the women around the table and the easy, lived-in way they talk over and around each other without any sharpness. There’s affection here, but not the overly polished kind. Something rougher around the edges. Earned. Honest enough that no one seems worried about looking graceful inside it.
It makes my chest ache in a way I don’t appreciate.
“So,” Hadley says, not even pretending subtlety. “How terrible was my brother to work with today?”
Holt finally looks at me then. Straight on. The weight of his attention settles over my skin before I can stop it.
“Depends which part of the day you mean,” I say, because apparently I’ve already chosen the kind of danger I’m willing to entertain.
A slow grin pulls at one side of Hadley’s mouth. “Oh, good. There were parts.”
“Hads,” Holt says, his voice carrying just enough warning to make it useless.
She ignores him completely. “Did he get all bossy and weirdly competent?”
Lila snorts. Bailey looks down into her plate to hide a smile. Ivy doesn’t bother.
I glance at Holt, then back at Hadley. “That is… a wildly accurate description.”
The table breaks into laughter. Holt drags a hand over his jaw and leans back in his chair with the expression of a man who knows he’s outnumbered and has no real plan to recover.
“That’s enough from all of you.”
“No,” Hadley says cheerfully. “It absolutely is not.”
Claire reaches for the bread basket and passes it my way like the conversation happening around it isn’t exactly what she wanted all along. I take a piece and try not to smile, but fail miserably.
Later, when the dishes are half done and Bailey and Lila are arguing softly over whether Claire should let them help more, Hadley corners me by the back door while Ivy stands outside the mudroom with Rook, letting him sniff the hem of her jeans.
“You’re coming with me tomorrow,” Hadley says.
I blink. “That sounded a lot like a command.”
“It is.”
“To where?”
She smiles slowly, the kind of smile that says trouble is probably involved. “The bookstore. Bailey’s opening late, Ivy wants coffee, Lila promised to bring pastries, and I’ve decided you don’t get to spend every spare second at the inn until you forget how to be a person.”
I should say no. Instead, I ask, “Will there be coffee before or after I’m kidnapped?”
“Both,” Bailey calls from the sink without turning around.
That earns me another laugh I didn’t know I had in me tonight.
