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“Still a stickler for the rules, huh? That’s my Ivy.”
We’re interrupted by the rat bastard himself: Jake, striding into the museum in his designer jeans and beat-up leather jacket. I know for a fact he spent an entire afternoon slamming that thing against the side of the fire pit in our old backyard, trying to achieve a perfectly-believable level of distress.
He pushes back his blonde hair and flashes me that charming, toothy smile that used to reduce me to putty. “You can do us a solid this one time, can’t you?” he asks, propping his elbows on the counter. “We’ve come all this way, and you know the shooting schedule is a bitch. We’ve got ten days to wrap this thing.”
“Sorry,” I beam back unapologetically. “But the diaries are technically the property of the museum, and we have a strict procedure for loan-outs. All requests need to be filed with the museum committee, and they're not meeting again until next month.”
“Really?” Jessica gives me a look.
“What can I say?” I give a big shrug. “It’s out of my hands.”
She pouts, sighing, but Jake narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle this,” he tells her dismissively. “How about you make yourself useful, babe, and go grab us some coffee?”
I blink. A few years ago, it was me Jake was calling “babe", and sending out on coffee runs. Almond milk, I think reflexively. No cinnamon.
“No cinnamon!” Jake calls after Jessica, and I hide a smirk.
Some things never change.
Once she’s gone, Jake turns back to me, adopting his best puppy-dog expression. “Look, Ivy … I know we have some history—”
“Understatement of the year,” I mutter.
Jake’s charming smile only grows. “But I know that you can be the bigger person here. Petty vendettas aren’t your style. It’s what I always loved about you,” he adds. “You have such a big heart.”
I snort with laughter. “Nice try,” I tell him bluntly, gathering my things and heading for the back office. “Earl’s treasure ismyfamily story, and you’re not taking it.”
“Didn’t you always say, history belongs to all of us?” Jake moves to block my path.
“History, yes. Earl and Madeline’s love letters? Nope.” I glare, but he doesn’t move.
Jake sighs, finally dropping the friendly act. “Look, you know I’m going to get those letters eventually,” he says bluntly. “So, you can either waste all this time fighting me on it, or just hand them over now, and save yourself the trouble.” He shrugs. “It’s your call.”
Dammit.
My scowl deepens. Because he’s right. Jake has a way of making all resistance just melt away: dig regulations, local zoning laws, a woman’s sense of self-preservation. When we were a team, it was great. A fast-track to getting my way. Some crotchety old man in the archives department blocking my document request? I’d just send in Jake with a strategic gift, he’d get the guy talking, and voila: I’d get everything I need.
So when he says he’s getting a look at these letters, one way or another …
I believe it.
“Fine. Take them,” I snap. “But I already have hi-res copies stored, so if you leave so much as a fingerprint on them, there’ll be hell to pay.” I warn. “Make sure he wears gloves,” I add to Dot, as I steam past into the back room. “And don’t let that trollop get her perfume anywhere near them!”
I leave Dot to retrieve the letters for him, and angrily start re-shelving books in our library section.
He’s got some fucking nerve …
But nerve was never Jake’s problem, at least not once he got his first taste of reality TV fame. Neither was ego, arrogance, pig-headedness …
“He couldn’t come up with a single original idea for his show?” I mutter, clambering up onto a stool to reach the top shelf. “The Ozark treasure caves. Blackbeard’s gold. That smuggler’s plane went down in New Mexico in ‘55 —”
“What was that?”
A man’s voice comes suddenly behind me, and I whirl around in surprise. “Reeve?” I blurt, finding him in the aisle. Except the stool isn’t made for whirling; it sways dangerously. “Crapwaffle!” I yelp, losing my balance. I desperately pinwheel my arms, but it’s no use. In the battle between me and gravity …
Gravity wins.
I plummet off the stool— and straight into Reeve’s arms.
