At Wits' End - Kenzie Reed Page 0,76

a dad bod, and you will still be the sexiest thing since sex was invented.”

“For you, I’d eat a dozen grilled cheese sandwiches. Now, you’re going to eat melty cheese and drink some wine and tell me all about your day. Okay?”

I burrow my face in his shoulder. “Better than okay.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

SIENNA

The first Monday in June is traditionally also the first meeting of the Greenvale Fall-fest’s Downtown Decorating Committee. In the past, due to the feuding between the Witlockes and the Ribaldis, the decorating committee has been split in two.

Downtown Greenvale has two main streets for commerce. There’s Main Street, which runs ten blocks. Every September, it is decorated by the Witlockes, in a style that the Ribaldis like to refer to as “Constipated Traditional”. Shady Oaks Lane, which bisects Main Street and is eight blocks long, is decorated in a joyously creative fashion, by my family.

This morning, it was announced in the Greenvale Herald that in recognition of the reconciliation of the two families, the committees have now been combined.

The article had no byline, but it’s obvious who was behind it. The very same lady who will be covering the article for the paper – Carrie. Word has it that she’s been getting increasingly frustrated that she hasn’t been able to find a way to undermine Marcus’ deal.

Our meetings are held Monday afternoons, in the community room at the town’s Parks and Recreation center. I show up to our meeting five minutes late, because Donovan and I had goodbye sex before he left for Los Angeles. I walk in happily flushed and exhausted and trying to hide the smile on my face.

Most of the Witlockes are assembled on one side of the table, sitting next to Brooke and Fraser, and Pastor Miranda Barnes from the Wine Knot wedding chapel, who are also on the committee. My family sits across from them, with Jamie and Pamela, who’s also a regular on the decorating committee. That’s got to be a real thrill for Mr. Witlocke. Carrie’s sitting at the far end of the table, watching us with bright, angry eyes.

Everyone’s got notepads and pens, and they’re sipping water, tea or coffee as they wait for me. I’m not sure that having hot liquids at this event is a great idea. Or pens. Or anything else that could be used as a weapon.

Brooke flashes me a slit-eyed look of dislike. Fraser leans back in his seat. “Donny-boy too busy to come with you? Hey, my car’s a little muddy. Maybe he can come over this evening and get some practice in.” He and Brooke high-five each other.

Toni smiles tentatively and waves at me, but her mother glares at her and she wilts, her hand quickly sinking back down onto the table.

“Now there’s the look of a woman who’s having great sex,” Pamela says when I sink into the chair next to her.

“Pamela. Could you please use your indoor voice?” I nudge her with my elbow.

“My husband and I had great sex last night,” Brooke announces loudly. “Four times. How many times did you guys have sex?”

“Lord have mercy.” Miranda blanches.

“Some of us like to keep private things private,” I say loudly.

“Less than four,” Brooke says to her husband.

“Can we please get this started?” Rocco glares around the table.

“By the way the Witlocke and Ribaldi families are getting along so well these days that Jamie Witlocke is working at the Ribaldi winery,” I tell Carrie. “Would you like to get a picture of the two of us?”

Carrie stands up and unenthusiastically snaps a couple of shots, then sinks back down into her seat.

“I think that’s fantastic.” She settles back in the chair with a feral smile. “The feud is a thing of the past. How wonderful is that, for everybody?”

A lightning bolt of alarm zaps my nerves.

“Shiznit,” I whisper to Pamela. “She’s up to something.”

“I mean, that feud is so old,” Carrie coos. “It goes back to 1930. Whatever started that silly old thing, anyway?”

Oh, hell. No she didn’t.

“Francesco Ribaldi stole one of our sheep and molested it.” Montgomery Witlocke speaks up so loudly that his voice booms off the rafters. “But no hard feelings. After all, their union spawned this fine family of thieves you see before you, and for ninety years they’ve kept the town entertained with their sad attempts to destroy us.”

He glares straight at me as he speaks.

Seriously? He’s that peeved about me hiring his daughter?

Chairs scrape as they’re shoved back in a prelude to a brawl, and a