A picture of Logan and me behind the bar—Logan with his attention on me, and Gigi watching us from a distance.
A panned-out image of Logan on the ground at the rodeo with me running maniacally toward him and Gigi in the stands.
A photo of Logan and me as we dance the two-step out by the picnic table.
“How did you get that one?” I stare at the one of us dancing. “The bar was closed.”
“I have dozens more. More photographs that show you and Mr. Darcy in compromising positions. I don’t think the future Mrs. Darcy, or her family, would like what’s in these, do you? They don’t paint a very good story from her end.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you saying?”
“TheDarcy Gazette’sSpecial Edition needs a backbone story, and more importantly to me, my paper sent me down here to get dirt. Not just to recap a legend anyone can find in the library or online. My editor wants a hook. And from what I’ve gathered in my short time here, you’re the hook, Ms. Henwood. You and your very interestingly-close relationship with your ex-husband, who the entire town has already christened Mr. Darcy.”
My face is on fire with fury. “How dare you. You’re trying to blackmail me?”
“It’s no skin off your back if these photos are published,” Skip says. “Maybe your reputation will suffer a bit, but not permanently. But would Logan’s future with Gigi be over immediately should these come out? Would she leave him? And another question I’m pursuing is: would he care? If so, why?”
“I don’t know what Gigi would do. The only thing I’m sure of is I don’t care.”
“I don’t believe you. I believe you still want him. I also am inclined to think he still wants you, which makes this triangle even more intriguing.”
I clench my hands into fists at my sides. “What do you want?”
He smiles. “My proposal is this—you grant me unfettered access to Vivian’s diary, which your daddy has refused me several times, plus an exclusive, one-on-one interview with you as The Lady on the Inside, where no questions are off-limits, about The Cowherd Whiskey and your role in running it, and why you made Logan the exception to your no-marriage rule.”
“No way.”
“You grant me those two things,” he continues like I never cut him off. “And I’ll give you these photos and never publish them. I’ll delete them off my phone right in front of you and give you the flash drive with the copies. You don’t? I show them to Ms. Gigi Phillips and her family and get what I’m sure will be a show-stopping response. Either way, I get a story. You see?”
“You could have more back-up copies.”
“You give me the diary and the interview, and I’ll give you my word that I won’t send them to my editor. And I don’t go back on that.”
I fidget.
“You’d be protecting Mr. Wild again you know. But this time, you’d be losing him forever in the process. And if you refuse, you protect yourselfandpotentially get what you want, which is a breakup between Gigi and Logan.”
I know. But I also know that I care about Logan far too much to ever sell him out or let him take the fall for pictures that nobody else would understand. Logan didn’t cheat on Gigi. And I would never ruin their relationship by letting those photos go public.
“I won’t discuss my father’s drinking, any of my siblings’ personal lives at all, or my parents’ relationship. I will talk only about myself and my life. And I will give you Vivian’s diary under one condition—that I sit next to you the entire time you read it. It never leaves my sight.”
“Good enough. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll grant you the interview.”
Chapter Ten
Skip pumps his fist. “Awesome!” Then he pauses. “You know, I have to admit I’m surprised. With the way you look at Mr. Wild, I thought maybe you’d want the chance to see him single again.”
I just shake my head in disgust and give my last stipulation. “No cameras, no Jon, just you. You can interview me tonight, and tomorrow you come by The Cowherd, and I’ll give you Vivian’s diary.” Minus the torn-out page, because once Mama tore that out, she and I agreed it was no longer public history but had become a private matter. And private matters are best left private.
Skip tells Jon he can go home, and we watch him disappear up the hill and into his car. I take three deep breaths to center myself and lead Skip down to the fishing hole.
He hurries next to me along the edge of the woods toward the one section of the creek that empties into the lake. The moon is barely visible tonight, but the stars are out.
“This is real small town, huh?” Skip says in a hushed voice. “It’s so quiet and dark.”
That’s why I love it here. And why you are ruining the peace.
