Chapter 39
Sam Talley’s House — Mid-Week
The house sat tucked behind Talley Feed you deserve a night out.
Besides, Izzy will be with me, so I’d hate for the Scott brothers to feel lonely. ”
Grant went still, the jealousy a hot, sharp needle in his gut. The thought of Izzy on Cal’s arm in a ballroom made his blood run hot.
“Naomi can make her own decisions,” Grant said, his voice dropping into a low rumble.
Naomi wiped her brow with the back of her glove and looked at the invitation. She looked at Grant’s dark expression, then back at Cal’s easy, arrogant smile. “I’ll find a dress, Cal. But I’m only going for the auction. I hear Wade is putting up some prime breeding rights.”
“That’s the spirit,” Cal quipped, turning back to his car. “We’ll see you Saturday. Don’t be late, Grant. I’d hate for you to miss the toast.”
Grant watched the Escalade pull away, his grip tightening on the cardstock until it buckled. “He’s doing it on purpose,” Grant muttered.
“Of course he is,” Naomi said, unhooking the lunge line. “But you’re going to put on that suit, Grant Scott. Because if you don’t, you’re leaving Izzy in that house alone with Hollis and a couple of Vargas. And we both know you can’t live with that.”
* * *
The Road to Asheville — Friday
The silver BMW was tucked away in the barn, much to Izzy’s annoyance, so the three of them were piled into Caitlin’s SUV with Deputy Sarah Parker at the wheel.
Izzy sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the rolling Blue Ridge peaks. In her mind, Sarah was a “babysitter” sent by Burke to keep her on a leash, but it was hard to stay annoyed with Sarah.
“You know, Burke told me if I let you out of my sight for more than thirty seconds, I’m back on night-shift patrol at the reservoir,” Sarah said, flashing a grin as she navigated a tight curve.
Caitlin laughed from the backseat. “He told Grant the same thing. I think the Scott brothers are officially losing their collective minds.”
“They have reason to be jumpy,” Sarah said, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, checking the traffic with a practiced, rhythmic sweep. “But today is about the dress. No talk of logistics, no talk of Vargas, and definitely no talk of the Hollis family. Deal?”
“Deal,” Izzy said, finally letting out a breath she felt like she’d been holding for a week.
* * *
Biltmore Village — Afternoon
Asheville was bustling, the air a few degrees warmer than the mountain valley. They spent the afternoon weaving through the high-end boutiques of Biltmore Village. For a few hours, the “security risk” felt like a bad dream.
In a small, exclusive shop with velvet curtains and crystal chandeliers, Caitlin found her mark. It was a floor-length silk gown in a deep, hunter green that made her red hair pop and her eyes glow.
“Oh, Caitlin,” Izzy breathed, standing back as the seamstress pinned the hem. “Burke isn’t going to be able to breathe when he sees you in that.”
“That’s the plan,” Caitlin smirked, catching her reflection. “If I have to go to a Hollis fundraiser, I’m going to make sure the Sheriff is sufficiently distracted.”
Then it was Izzy’s turn. She’d gone through a dozen dresses before she saw it hanging in the back of the rack.
It was midnight blue—so dark it was almost black—made of a heavy, liquid silk that draped over her curves like water.
It had a modest neckline but an open back that felt daring and sophisticated.
When she stepped out of the dressing room, the shop went quiet. Sarah Parker, who was leaning against the doorframe with her hand habitually resting near her concealed carry holster, actually let out a low whistle.
“Isabella,” Sarah said, her voice dropping the deputy act. “Grant Scott is going to have a heart attack. He won’t know whether to kiss you or lock you in a vault.”
Izzy looked at herself in the three-way mirror. She didn’t look like the woman who had been hiding in a barn or sketching ghosts in a notebook. She looked powerful. She looked like someone who could walk into the Hollis estate and hold her own.
“It’s perfect,” Izzy whispered.
* * *
The Return Trip — Sunset
The back of the SUV was filled with glossy shopping bags and the scent of expensive fabric.
They stopped for lattes before heading back up the mountain, the mood light and genuine.
Sarah kept them laughing with stories of some of the more “interesting” calls she’d handled in Sylva over the years, carefully avoiding anything that touched on the current investigation.
But as they crossed the county line and the shadows of the hemlocks stretched across the road, the levity started to fade.
Sarah’s posture straightened. Her eyes went back to the mirrors. The deputy was back on the clock.
“We’re ten minutes out,” Sarah said, her voice shifting back to that professional, steady clip. “I’m going to drop you at the kitchen door. Grant and Burke are already back from the station.”
Izzy looked at the shopping bag at her feet, the midnight blue silk hidden inside. She thought of the Gala, the cancer wing, and the two men in the suits who had watched her at the Club.
She wasn’t just buying a dress today. She was buying confidence. And as the lights of the Scott farm appeared through the trees, she realized the “best time” was over.
Saturday was coming. And the mountain was waiting.