Page 30 of Between the Lines

Graham retrieved the darts and paused, eyes narrowed as though a thought had come to him. “There is another option for dealing with this woman, you know.”

Her brows rose. “I’m listening.” She was, too. He had a lifetime of experience to draw from, and his advice was often spot on.

“You could remove her leverage,” he said. “Whatever you think she has over you—come out with it first. On your terms. If you own it, she can’t.”

Paige weighed that as she lined up her next throw. She took a breath and threw. The dart landed closer this time.

“I’ve thought about it,” she said, straightening. “And it’s tempting.”

“But?” he prompted.

“But that still feels like giving her power and I don’t want to do that,” Paige said. “Not unless I have to. Also, it would affect Randi, too, and then I’d have to tell her what is going on because I couldn’t blindside her like that.”

He turned, eyebrows raised slightly. “I see.”

“I’m not going to preemptively burn my own privacy because someone hinted at knowing something,” she said. “If Darcy turns out to be an actual threat, if she starts pushing, or she tells me she’s about to make my secret public, then I’ll consider cutting her off at the knees.”

He smirked.

She handed him a dart. “But not before.”

Graham nodded approvingly. “Admirable strategy.”

“Thanks.” Paige added, “I don’t believe in confessing to things just to stay ahead of rumors. That way lies madness. And what if what she thinks she knows isn’t the truth after all?”

He smiled and threw, landing a shot just off the bullseye. “Well said. And a good point.”

“Nice one.” Paige positioned her next dart, squared her shoulders, and took her time as she aimed again. This one landed solidly in the middle ring. She raised her arms in triumph and grinned. “Look at that.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Graham said. “And commitment pays off. Which works in more than one context.”

“So does patience.” She gave him a smile, certain of one thing.

Darcy Lane didn’t get to rush her. Not in darts.

And not in life.

Chapter Twelve

The sun was just starting to come up when Blaise dressed in her walking clothes and slipped into her sneakers. Early morning had become her favorite time of day. Everything was possible at this hour, and it felt so peaceful. The house was wonderfully quiet. Just the soft whir of the ceiling fan and Beau’s tail thumping once he realized what the shoes meant.

He followed her out to the kitchen, dancing around her feet as she got a pot of coffee going. “Hold your horses,” she murmured. “We’re going. I promise.”

She’d forgotten her phone by the bed. She went back to get it and sent a quick text to Brick. Up for a morning walk? Beau and I are heading out if you want to join.

She pictured Brick already up and probably on his second cup of coffee. Maybe prepping to visit Holland at the hospital again. Which reminded her—she’d meant to ask Brick when his son would be discharged. Had to be soon.

Blaise slipped the phone into the pocket of her leggings and filled a stainless-steel bottle with ice and water so it would be ready for her when she got back.

Her phone chimed. She smiled without looking. That was fast, she thought. Brick must be more awake than she was. She pulled her phone back out, but when she glanced at the screen, it wasn’t a text.

It was an email. She tapped on the notification. It was from a different publisher.

Her stomach tightened, not in a bad way, but enough to make her freeze up a little. The subject line sat there, stark and unmistakable. Regarding Your Memoir Proposal

This was not the publisher who’d wanted a call. She was talking to them on Monday at ten.

This one was new.