Kelsey knelt in front of him and cupped his face. “Who?”
Romeo barked. It was probably a name, and so it was too bad she didn’t speak dog.
“Not helpful.” She opened the door and contemplated the bag. It definitely resembled a bottle, and there was no stench emanating from it, so it was unlikely someone had left her a bag of shit.
Gingerly, Kelsey pulled it open. Inside was, in fact, a bottle, as well as an envelope. With a glance up and down the street, she snatched the bag and took it into the kitchen. There was nothing written on the envelope, so she retrieved the bottle next, which appeared to contain beer. A piece of paper was taped to it.
The Kelsey Porter
A little bitter, a lot of sweet.
Serve cold, feel warm.
It took her a second to get it, but although she didn’t drink the stuff, she did know that a porter was a type of beer. She’d just never made the connection between it and her last name before.
There was only one person this could be from. No wonder her dogs had gone wild. They must have been missing Ian, and then they’d seen him drop this off.
Kelsey collapsed into a chair and tore open the envelope with shaky fingers. Not that she cared what was in it. Not that anything Ian had to say would make any difference.
Unlike the label on the beer bottle, the letter was handwritten.
Dear Kelsey,
I wonder if you’re even going to read this, but I have to have hope. I don’t know where that leaves me in comparison to Captain Wentworth and his much beloved half hope/half agony words. I’m more of a miserable schmuck these days, to be perfectly honest. Still, I’ve been reading that copy of Persuasion you pushed on me, and following Wentworth’s example didn’t seem like the worst idea. It worked for him. It even worked for Darcy. (See, I told you I was paying attention for all five hours of Pride and Prejudice.) Anyway, I can hope this might work for me too.
Speaking of hope, I hope you can read my writing. I’m not sure when the last time I tried writing something this long by hand was . . .
So, to get to the point, I’m sorry. So very sorry. There’s no way around it—I messed up badly. When I heard the news about more businesses canceling their orders with the brewery, I panicked. And like people do when they panic, I overreacted, and I hurt you in the process.
When I told you I’d moved on from what my father did, I think I was trying to mislead us both. But you were right, and I’m not as over his words as I wish I was. I’ve spent most of my life determined to prove my father wrong. I told you he thought I’d never be successful. Never amount to anything. I thought proving him wrong meant I had to beat him at the only game that mattered to him—business. Therefore any threat to the brewery became a threat to my self-esteem and everything I’ve built my life around for the last nearly twenty years. But all that’s made me do is turn into him. I put work before people. Before love.
Before you.
It’s not concern about the brewery that’s made me miserable over the last couple of weeks. It’s been missing you. You see, putting work before people has always been easy for me. It was never even an issue before, because I never cared about anyone enough to see what a mistake it was. But I knew you were trouble from the moment you first stepped foot in the brewery. I knew I should have stayed away, but I couldn’t. You made me like you despite the SHS. Then you made me love you despite my every intention to not get close. You were the first woman who ever tempted me enough to break my no-relationships rule.
So now I understand failure for real. It’s not about whether the brewery does well, or if it even exists in another year. Losing you would be the true failure.
I love you, Kelsey. And I’m sorry. I can’t promise I won’t make more mistakes, but if you’ll give me a second chance, I can promise I won’t make this mistake again.
Love,
Ian
p.s. If you won’t think of me, think of all the dogs I’m not petting because I need more dog therapy.
p.p.s. Okay, we both know I don’t need more dog therapy, so think of your dogs. I actually miss them too. Who knew that would be possible?
p.p.p.s. Do you think Wentworth’s agony referred to his hand cramping up? Mine hurts almost as much as the rest of me.
“Oh God, you’re such a dork.” Kelsey clamped a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. No surprise, her hand was getting wet. There were tears streaming down her cheeks. Damn him. She’d said she wasn’t going to cry over him again, yet here she was.
This was the problem when you let someone break through your defenses. You could never rebuild them as strong as they’d been the first time. They would know you, and therefore know how to knock the walls down—faster and easier the second time, as evidenced by Ian writing her a letter. A letter! Yup, she’d let him get to know her too well.
“You’re an insufferable jackass.” Kelsey sniffed, and the dogs came over to lie at her feet and lick her hands.
What was she supposed to do? It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Ian’s sincerity. She did. In fact, she thought she finally understood his motivation for allowing Josh and Taylor to hold their engagement party at the brewery. It wasn’t that he’d given up trying to win back the Lipins’ business. He was trying to show her that it didn’t matter to him. That it was the people who did. Love and relationships came first.
Kelsey blinked, unable to stop more tears. She could sympathize with Ian’s situation. She knew all too well the ability of someone else’s words and behaviors to play havoc with your better sense and emotions. If Anthony wasn’t proof of that, her own family surely was. In her own way, she’d grown up completely used to toxic behaviors. Her inability to trust had roots far deeper than anything Anthony had done, and she was only starting to see how much she’d misjudged people.
But second chances, even those asked for in handwritten letters, were dangerous. Ian might have been miserable these past several days, but she had been too. Kelsey wasn’t sure she could subject herself to the possibility of going through this pain again.
Kelsey wasn’t aware of how long she sat at the table, reading and rereading Ian’s letter, but shadows moved across the kitchen with the sun’s lowering angle. It was only pounding on the door that snapped her out of it. She hadn’t locked it, and Kevin sauntered in before she could get up.
“Does privacy mean nothing to you?” she asked, furiously scrubbing away her dried tears with her shirt sleeve.
“What’s the point? You’re like my other half.” He took off his shoes and lavished attention on her very-happy-to-see-him dogs.
Pulling herself more together, Kelsey stood. She should probably feed those dogs. The pre-dinner walk she’d been planning to take them on didn’t appear to be happening. “Better not tell Peter that.”
Kevin started to say something else, then took a good look at her and frowned. “What happened? Who do I need to beat up?”
“Ugh, what is it with you and Nate offering to beat people up for me? Do you think I’m helpless because I’m the girl? I’m perfectly capable of destroying my enemies on my own.”
“You’re the one looking destroyed.”
She must not have done a good job with the tears. Kelsey scowled. “It’s nothing.”
“If you say so.” Kevin picked up the bottle from Ian. “Is this nothing too?”
She snatched the letter away before her nosy twin could get his hands on everything. “No, that’s called beer.”
“A Kelsey porter. Cute. Wait. Is this from Ian?” When she didn’t answer, Kevin nodded to himself. “That’s why you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Oh, please.”
“Bite me.” She turned her back on him and began getting out the dog food. “Where’s the puppy?” If Kevin had come over to annoy her, the least he could have done
was bring her a puppy to play with.
“Probably napping,” her brother said. “It’s a hard life chasing your tail until you collapse from exhaustion. So come on, stop lying so badly and tell me what’s going on with Ian giving you beer that you won’t drink.”
“Hey, I’ll try it.” Maybe. It would have been more fun trying it with him around.
Kevin crossed his arms and stared her down.
Kelsey groaned. “He apologized. He wants me to give him a second chance. Here.” She thrust the letter at her brother, because talking was getting difficult. Her throat felt like it was closing up.
She hoped Ian wouldn’t mind Kevin reading it. Her brother had been through hell with their own family for getting engaged to Peter. He could relate to parental drama.
“That’s actually sweet,” Kevin said. “Dorky, but sweet. No wonder you like him.”
Kelsey whined and set the letter back on the table.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” Merely thinking about the decision made her ill. So much for her determination to not care what Ian had to say.
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.” She whispered the word so as not to give the confession too much power over herself.
“Then I think you have your answer.”
Kelsey snapped her head up. “It’s not that simple. He hurt me. What if it happens again? I’m tired of being hurt.”
Her brother looked heavenward as though she were being absurd. “Hurt happens. People screw up. Ian screwed up; you’ll screw up too someday if you get back together. If you love someone and they love you, you work through the screwups together. Love requires taking risks.”
Kelsey pressed her lips together in frustration. For once, she did not have a witty comeback for her brother. Kevin might as well have picked up one of her books. Those were the sort of lines she’d put in someone’s mouth. Hell, she’d once used similar lines on Josh.
There was no advice more annoying than the advice you’d given others being thrown back at you.
“Look,” Kevin went on, frustratingly sensible. “If you need me to make a different argument, consider this one. People will go to all kinds of ridiculous lengths to protect their dreams. For Ian, that explains his panicked reaction about the brewery. For you, it was not telling anyone—including your favorite brother—about your real career.”
Wow. Kevin had just punched her and he didn’t even know it. When she’d told her twin about her writing, she’d omitted the part about what Ian had said to her. So here was Kevin independently tossing out the same truth bomb as Ian. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Josh was too nice to let on if she’d hurt him. Nate was too calm, and Maggie wasn’t family. But Kevin had given her plenty of grief when she’d confessed her secret to him.
“Since when are you my favorite brother?” Kelsey crossed her arms because it was the least defensive thing she wanted to do.
Kevin flipped her off. “My point is, your inability to trust me hurt too, you know. Ian isn’t the only one who acted irrationally regarding his job.”
“I’m aware. I’ve been fixing that mistake.”
“Yes, and it’s about time.” Kevin picked up the beer bottle again, looking like he really wanted to open it. “But if you want even more advice—”
“No. No more advice.”
He talked over her. “If you want even more advice, make Ian squirm for a while before you accept his apology. You have a rep to uphold.”
“Okay, that I agree with.” She snatched the beer bottle away, a new realization dawning on her. “Exactly, I have a rep. Ian and the brewery have been paying a price because of the feud. Whether it was Dad being pissed off because the guys were trying to stay out of it and he thought they owed him or it was the Lipins being pissed off because Ian and I were dating, most—maybe all—of our problems are because of the damn feud.”
“So?” The huskies had finished dinner and wanted to play, so Kevin picked up the ropes and led them into the living room.
“So I’m going to make sure this shit doesn’t get between us ever again. Dad wanted me to be his little warrior?” Kelsey sneered. “He’s going to get that. He wanted me to date Ian to help ensure the family’s legacy? He’s going to get that too.”
Even more than opening up to her family and Maggie, this plan made Kelsey feel better. More like normal. Her father was right about one thing—she had always been a fighter.
But until now, she’d been a fighter without a fight, and Kelsey was realizing why. It was because she’d never been motivated to fight for herself. When it was about her, she avoided conflict. That was why she’d kept her pen name a secret; it had been easier. But this time the town had come for the people she loved, and that meant it was time to uphold her reputation, bare her claws, and create some legacy.
29
KELSEY WAITED UNTIL Tuesday. It wasn’t so much that she wanted Ian to squirm for an extra twenty-four hours, although she kind of did. But by waiting until Tuesday, she could put her plan into action in person.
In person struck her as key. She might not look intimidating, but if she wanted to start asserting her influence, she had to make it clear that her appearance was meaningless. It didn’t matter how short or cherubic she looked. This angel came carrying a flaming sword.
Sadly, one that was only metaphorical. Literally, Kelsey came carrying the beer from Ian.
Frankie’s Fish Café was a Helen institution that dated back over a decade before she was born. Loved by locals and tourists alike, it was one of the handful of restaurants in town that stayed open year-round. Tuesday during lunch, Kelsey knew the current Frank would be there.
Frank Porter was one of her father’s cousins, and he’d been among the first of the Porter business owners to cancel their orders with Northern Charm Brewing after her father had thrown a hissy fit. He had influence—perhaps not as much as her father, but plenty as the second-generation owner of Frankie’s.
Somewhere in the research she’d done for her book series, Kelsey had read that in nature, predators hunted the weak because they were easier to kill. She didn’t have time for that. If this was one of her stories, she was one alpha challenging another alpha. Win, and she got control of the pack.
Noon at the restaurant was pretty quiet midweek in early October. Kelsey took a seat at the bar and waited for the bartender to find Frank. Her father’s cousin emerged from a back room a minute later, clearly surprised to see her.
There was additional symbolic value in approaching Frank rather than any of her other, more distant, relatives. Despite only being cousins, Frank and her father looked a lot alike. Her father was shorter and sported less of a gut, but the resemblance was uncanny. Personality-wise, Frank had always seemed more laid back and friendly, but that might have been because he hadn’t needed to parent her. He could be the genial not-uncle. Regardless, talking to him felt an awful lot like talking to her father.
“Kels, what can I do for you?” Frank leaned over the bar.
Kelsey pushed the unopened beer toward him. “You can reinstate your order with the brewery. Look at that.”
The bottle didn’t have the official Northern Charm label, but Ian had included the brewery name and logo on it.
Frank chuckled. “You convinced them to name a beer after you, huh?”
“I didn’t have to convince anyone. I don’t even drink beer. My point in showing you this is to remind you that the brewery is on our side. They support me.” She pointed to her chest for emphasis. “Supporting me means supporting the family. There’s no beer named after a Lipin.”
“Ah, Kels.” Frank rubbed his whiskers. “You know it’s not that simple.”
“Actually, it is. The brewery has been doing business with both our family and the Lipins, like many of the unique businesses in this town. Also, the brewery is
on track to be extremely successful. The way I see it, our family can either share in that success, or we can watch as the Lipins form an exclusive relationship with them.”
Kelsey had heard from Maggie, who’d heard from Micah, that the Bay Song Inn was holding to their promotional deal with the brewery. With Lydia Lipin on their side, Kelsey expected other Lipin businesses would slowly get back on board. Assuming they hadn’t already done so after learning that Ian had dumped her, that was.
“The brewery is an up-and-coming business in this town that’s bound to draw good press and lots of tourist money,” Kelsey continued. “Do you want to be left behind?”
Frank sighed. “I don’t disagree, but your father—”
“My father forgets that I’m dating Ian.” Which would be news to Ian at this point (never mind the Lipins), but she’d address that next. What was important here was that Frank was willing to think like a business owner and not a feud soldier. Or rather, she needed him to think like both. Only this time, instead of taking orders from her father the general, she needed to convince Frank to take suggestions from her.
Kelsey leaned closer and lowered her voice dramatically to drive home what she considered to be the killer attack. “If the brewery isn’t successful enough to stay open, Theresa Lipin and the Save Helen Society win. They’ll have had a taste of victory, driving out a new business that could have benefited this town. They won’t stop there. If anything, they’ll become bolder. The mayor’s antidevelopment policy moves forward, and the people living here suffer economically. The Lipins win; we lose.”
The words left a bitter taste on her tongue, given her real opinion about how much development Helen deserved, but for Ian’s sake, they were worth it. Besides, like she’d admitted to him weeks ago—it wasn’t as if the brewery was another chain store or franchise destroying the local families. The town really was likely to benefit from their presence.
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