Where the Hell is Ivy Dell? by Indie Sparks

Author:Indie Sparks [Sparks, Indie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Twice Shy Publishing
Published: 2024-03-12T00:00:00+00:00

Inside, I power up my laptop and dump the bag out onto my table, grabbing a bar indiscriminately. The label says Bitter Dark.

Of course, he’d choose that.

Jensen

Comfortably Numb

I’m sure Ivy thinks I’m an asshole after the way I ran hot and cold on her the other day, but I did her a favor. She was about to ask questions I didn’t want to answer. It was my own damn fault for opening up about the winery. She’s too easy to talk to. Five minutes in her presence and I can feel my guard melting around the edges like butter in a hot pan.

There’s almost always something to keep my hands busy around here, but not this weekend. Nobody’s having car trouble, no holes in the fence that need to be repaired, no projects to be built for anyone. Normally, I make the most of my downtime. It’s when I hike, fish, or get in the truck and drive until something catches my eye, explore. But when I think about doing those things today, my next thought is to invite Ivy.

She probably wouldn’t go, anyway, but I probably wouldn’t enjoy it without her either.

And if I’m being honest, I still want to know what she’s doing here. I know she wanted to see this place because of her grandmother, but I think she has other reasons, too. Grief is a bitch, but that’s not the only thing driving her. Maybe none of us is driven by a singular horror.

I hear Cujo’s pipes before I see the cloud of dust he’s riding in on. He pulls up into the bay out of the wind, jams his kickstand down, and steps off his bike, looking like a leather-clad giant. “What are you doing today?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” I toss some bolts into a box. Cleaning up and organizing parts keeps my hands busy, but the rest of me is still restless.

“I keep telling you I can get you a good deal. You’d always have something to do if you had a bike.”

“Work on it?”

He laughs. “That, too. But it’d be nice to have somebody out here to ride with.”

We’d make a hell of an odd pair riding together, him with his patches and me without. I like the guy, but I’m not sure I want to ride next to him. Don’t want to draw any false associations. Or get caught in any crossfire. I’m told he’s more of an auxiliary member of the motorcycle club that’s represented on his jacket, but I’ve never been clear on exactly what that means. And I damn sure know better than to ask for clarification.

He rolls a bolt between his thumb and index finger before he tosses it into the box. “Feel like fishing?”

“In this wind? Sounds like a waste of gas and bait.” It’s over an hour’s drive to get to the nearest water worth fishing.

“Probably. Can’t help but notice you’ve been around a lot lately. Doesn’t seem like you’re getting out much.”

“I’m okay.” With his rough

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