Bad Boy Billionaire: F#cking Jerk 3 (4 page)

After our argument Harper mumbled something about getting some fresh air and left Clay’s house. I might have stopped her, but instead I decided she needed some space to cool off. I’d apologized. We’d hugged and made up. I was forgiven. But it would take a while for Harper to forget. I totally understood.

Meanwhile, I tiptoed back to Clay’s room to get my phone.

Clay was out cold. That was good. After staying up all night he deserved some sleep. He had to be totally exhausted. Moving as swiftly but silently as I could, I grabbed my phone and headed back to the door, taking only a couple seconds to stare at the handsome man sprawled in the bed. He was a sight; that was for sure. Handsome. Sexy. His broad chest rose and fell with each breath and memories of our love-making flashed through my mind, of his muscles flexing and rippling.

I grabbed my purse and gently closed the door on my way out. I would make the phone call in the living room, where I wouldn’t disturb him.

Minutes later, I had an appointment to meet with Hardin, the lawyer, in his office. Now there was only the question of how I would get there.

Since I’d returned to Dawson I’d suffered the lack of reliable transportation. My car ran. Every now and then. Not regularly enough. As a result I’d put more miles on Clay’s truck and Harper’s car than my own. And I’d grown really, really tired of relying upon Clay or Harper.

If I had anything to say about it, that would be changing. Soon.

In the meantime I needed to get to town.

I checked outside. Two vehicles sat in Clay’s miles-long driveway: Clay’s truck and Harper’s car. My car was at Silver Sage. With any luck it had been torched too. At least I’d be able to collect some insurance money if it was.

Praying Clay left Harper’s keys in the ignition, I headed toward her car first. She wouldn’t be upset if I borrowed her car for an hour or so. She was, and always would be, the best friend I could ever have. And I hoped someday I’d be able to pay her back for all the kind things she’d done for me over the years.

“Thanks, Harper,” I whispered as I plopped into the driver’s seat. Sure enough, the keys were there. I cranked on the engine. Before shifting into gear, I checked around me, thinking I might see Harper and take her to town with me.

No such luck.

Alone, I drove into town, nerves jangling. I was too busy praying there was insurance to listen to the radio. In fact, my mind was so occupied I pulled up in front of Hardin’s office before I even realized it. I cut off the car and scurried up the front steps.

Inside, I checked in with his receptionist and took a seat to wait. My heart was thumping hard and fast. My palms sweating. I wished Clay or Harper had been able to come with me. I could use some moral support. Of course, I could’ve waited until Clay woke up to do this. I knew he would have come with me. Gladly.

If only I wasn’t so frickin’ impatient.

But impatient I was. And so I would have to face this alone.

The little bell above the main door tinkled, and naturally I glanced that way to see who had arrived.

Of all people, it was Carrie, Clay’s sister. She snapped a quick look my way before checking in with the receptionist. Then she took a seat one chair away from me and beamed, “Hey. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

“Glad to see you survived.”

“Survived what?” I asked. Had news of the fire traveled that fast already?

“Being the live-in nursemaid to my moody brother, of course. The last time I saw you, you were taking over my post at his bedside.” Carrie tipped her head. “What did you think I meant?”

“Oh yes. That’s right. I forgot. I thought you meant…well, haven’t you heard?”

She scrunched up her pretty face. “Heard about what?”

“Someone set my house on fire last night.”

“No! I hadn’t heard. Which surprises me. News travels so fast around here.” Leaning toward me, she set her hand on my knee. “That’s awful! What happened? You say
someone
set your house on fire? Do you know how did it? Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine. I wasn’t home. It was arson. But I don’t think there are any suspects yet.”

“Why would someone do such a thing?”

“I wish I knew the answer to that. In fact, that’s why I’m here. To see if there was an insurance policy on the property. I thought it might have been set so someone could collect an insurance payout.”

“Hm. I doubt that. Knowing real estate law like I do, random people can’t take out policies on property they don’t own. So if there is a policy, either you or my brother would be the beneficiaries. Nobody else.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Sorry. But I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

The receptionist announced from her desk, “Miss Pierce, Mr. Hardin will see you now.”

I stood, smoothed my sweaty palms down my thighs.

“Good luck,” Carrie said, giving me a reassuring smile. “I hope you find the culprit.”

“Thanks.”

Twenty minutes later I was breathing easier. As executor of my aunt’s estate, Hardin had been responsible for purchasing a new property insurance policy when my aunt died. The house and its contents were covered. I would be receiving a check within the next few weeks.

That was a
huge
relief.

But then he dropped a bomb on me.

I was on the verge of losing the ranch and the rest of my aunt’s estate.

All of my troubles—the shortage of help, my lack of experience--had led to the ranch’s rapid financial decline. And it would be almost impossible to turn it around. Making matters worse, it would take weeks to receive the funds to buy the equipment that had been destroyed in the fire. Plus I would have to rebuild almost half the barn and replace several months’ worth of feed and straw. In the meantime, I would be forced to pay weekly payments to the neighbor for housing and feeding our animals.

It wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t going to save it. I could see that now.

I’d lost it. All of it. Already.

Stunned by the bad news, I exited Hardin’s office. Carrie was waiting where I’d left her--in the lobby. I acknowledged her with a nod and headed toward the door. Outside, I heard the door shut behind me and turned to learn she’d followed me.

“Didn’t you have an appointment with Mr. Hardin?” I asked.

“Yes, but it can wait.” She gave me a kind smile. “You look shaken. I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

“Thanks. I’m okay.” I didn’t sound okay. I blinked. It felt like the weight of the whole world had just landed on my shoulders. I couldn’t hold it up. My vision blurred. I sniffled. Dammit, I was going to cry. Out here. In the middle of the freaking street. Embarrassed, I dragged my trembling hand across my face. “I should go.”

“Like that? Tell me you aren’t driving.”

Ignoring the worry I heard in her voice, I practically ran to Harper’s car. My head was spinning. Literally. If I didn’t sit down in the next few seconds, I was going to pass out.

Carrie hooked her arm through mine, catching me as I was about to sink to the ground. “Come with me. Can you make it up the stairs?” She motioned toward a building. Her apartment building.

Blinking to try to clear the sparkling stars from my vision, I nodded. “I…I don’t know.”

“I won’t let you fall.” Supporting me, she led me through the door leading to her apartment’s ground floor entry and up the steps. At the top, she unlocked a second door and pushed it open.

Even though I was on the verge of a breakdown I couldn’t help noticing how beautiful her home was. The interior was full of period detail. Thick, heavy moldings enhanced every window and door. The wall was clad in rich-looking stained bead board paneling from the chair rail down to the baseboards. Above, the walls were painted a soft, silvery gray. Shimmering silk drapes bracketed the windows, and deep, layered crown moldings drew my watery eyes up to the ceiling.

“Your apartment is spectacular.”

“Thank you,” she said as she steered me toward her couch. “I love old architecture. They just don’t make buildings like this anymore. Sometime I’ll have to give you a tour. I did some of the renovations with my own two hands.”

“Impressive.”

“A drink,” she suggested, “what you need is a drink. What can I get you?”

I wasn’t thirsty, but I didn’t want to appear rude after she’d rescued me. Besides, she was probably right—I probably did need a drink. “Water or pop is fine. Thank you.”

“Pop?” She smiled. “Such a funny word for a beverage.”

“It’s one of those Michigan things. I meant I’ll take a cola. Coke? Whatever you have.”

“One Coke coming up.” She skittered to the open-concept kitchen at the rear of the apartment. Base cabinets stained to match the wood trim and paneling and brand new stainless steel appliances lined one wall; opposite stood a raw brick exterior wall, polished and coated to a high gloss.

My gaze locked on the brick wall. “That brick is gorgeous.”

“Thank you. I just had to showcase it. Do you notice the size and color of the bricks? They don’t look anything like the ones you buy today.” She fetched a pair of glasses from a cabinet and stuffed one into the small ice dispenser in the refrigerator door. Once enough ice cubes had clattered into the glass, she set it on the counter and raised an index finger. “Be right back. I keep my Coke stored out on the porch.”

“Sure.”

“How’s my brother?” Carrie called as she flung open the French door at the end of the kitchen, revealing a small screened-in balcony area. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Emmy, my daughter, misses him. You remember my daughter, don’t you?” Her question was accompanied by the sound of thumping boxes and tearing cardboard.

“Yes, of course. She’s beautiful. I’ll tell him she misses him. He’s resting today. He spent the night at Silver Sage, helping with the animals.” After a beat, I added, “Please, don’t go to any trouble. If you have to move a bunch of things to get to the Coke, I’m good with water.”

“No trouble.” She reappeared, a ten ounce bottle in her hand. “Emmy’s at preschool, so I’m glad for the company.” She unscrewed the bottle and poured the contents over the ice cubes before handing the glass to me. Then she poured herself some wine, sat beside me, and lifted her glass. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something a little stronger?”

“No, thank you. This is fine.” I took a couple of swallows before setting down my drink. “I should be getting back soon. I borrowed my friend’s car.”

“Of course. Just a second. I wanted to talk to you about something.” She guzzled the rest of her wine then hopped up to grab the wine bottle from the built-in wine cooler under the counter. This time she didn’t pour herself more; she brought the bottle with her, sat, and refilled her glass. “Sorry. I’m so thirsty. I had nachos for lunch. Salty.”

Carrie was drinking a lot, considering how early it was. Was that normal for her?

“Sure. What did you want to talk about?” Watching her down a second full glass of wine, I took a handful of swallows of cola. It was cool, crisp. Just right on a muggy day like this. Before I realized it, I was staring at a glass full of ice—only ice. I licked my upper lip.