“Kettlebrook is here,” he said, falling into step beside me. “They have a table set up near the main entrance. Corporate banner, very shiny. Their PR guy has Donny cornered up there taking pictures and asking him all kinds of questions. His name is—” he checked his phone. “Josh Barry.”
I stopped walking.
Sandy went another two steps before he realized and turned around. “Gideon?”
I knew that name. I remembered Declan’s voice, careful and even as he explained what had happened, the apartment, the bed, the reason he’d packed his bags and ended up in Ravenstone.
Josh the Jackass, he’d called him. Josh the Jerk. He’d been making jokes about it by then, which was how I knew it still bothered him.
I ran the information through in the calm, methodical way I handled things I couldn’t immediately fix. Josh Barry was doing PR work for Kettlebrook. He was here. In Ravenstone. So it wasn’t bad enough that he kept texting Declan, he had to show up here, too.
Declan was at Elwood’s shop right now, a short walk away, studying hexed growlers with his grandfather, and he had no idea his ex-boyfriend was standing at the library’s main entrance.
I needed to know how long Josh had been here. Whether he’d seen Declan yet. Whether he knew Declan was here at all. Whether this was a coincidence or not. I wasn’t worried about Declan cheating on me. He just wasn’t the type, but just becausehe wouldn’t cheat didn’t mean seeing Josh wouldn’t affect him. He still held a lot of anger about how things had ended between them.
“Is he still at the table?” I asked.
Sandy had gone unusually still, which meant he’d picked up on something in my voice. He was young but not oblivious. “I think so? He was when I left.”
“Good.” I started walking again, this time toward the main entrance. “Give me a minute.”
“Should I be worried?” Sandy asked, matching my pace.
“Not yet,” I said.
Sandy glanced at me sidelong. “Your ‘not yet’ sounds a lot like other people’s ‘yes.’”
I didn’t answer that, mostly because he wasn’t wrong.
The Kettlebrook Regional table was exactly where Sandy had described. It had a corporate banner that was very shiny. Siobhan stood behind the table answering people’s questions about Kettlebrook. She'd come to The Den to introduce herself earlier in the day, so I recognized her. There were brochures fanned out in a neat arc and a standing display showing distribution routes across the region. In addition to the banners, the table was covered in free swag that people would be excited about for five minutes and then toss in the garbage. The swag alone probably cost more than the total setup for most of the vendors at the festival.
A man, who I assumed was Josh, stood off to the side of the booth, talking with Donny. He was good-looking in the polished way that came from effort and budget. His dark hair, the kind of clothes that were casual without being cheap, and a smile that went up quickly when he noticed someone approaching. I could tell he was comfortable with being looked at. At ease in professional settings. And without a doubt, completely full of malarkey.
I held back until Donny walked away, then I stepped up to him.
“Gideon Blackwood,” I said. “I own The Den, just up the street.”
“Josh Barry.” He extended his hand across the table. His grip was practiced. “I’m with Kettlebrook. This is a great festival. Is this the town's first time running one like this?”
“It is,” I said. “We’re learning as we go.”
I kept my expression easy and my voice even while I filed away every detail—the way he carried himself, the particular quality of his smile, the slight distraction in his eyes that said his attention was partly elsewhere. Looking for something.Or someone.
I wondered what Declan had told him about where he’d ended up.
I wondered if that was why he was here.
“We’re very excited about the distribution partnership,” Josh said. “Roy Pruitt seems like a great story. Local guy, decades of experience. That’s exactly the kind of narrative we like to build around.”
“Heisa good story,” I agreed. “How long are you in town?”
“Through the end of the festival. Possibly a few extra days, depending on how the contract conversations go.” He smiled again. Smooth. But I caught the stink of deceit beneath the surface. “It’s a beautiful town. I can see why people want to stay.”
“It has that effect,” I said.
The two older men, who’d asked most of the actual brewing-related questions during the panel, walked up behind us, and I heard one of them say hebelieved that Beckett boyand thatRoy owed him. I took a brochure from the display and was about to thank Josh for his time so I could make a clean getaway when he gave me a fake smile and said, “Sorry, I need to talk to one of the other brewers real quick.”
I stepped to the side far enough to see inside the room and watched as Josh headed straight for Beckett. Hmm, very interesting.
