Page 70 of Dream Weaver

My heart panged. Ingo truly was a good man. To think he’d started out on my red list…

Which only served as a reminder of what a bad judge of character I was and what other men I might have misclassified…like Cooper.

“Thanks, but it can wait,” I said.

Pippa tapped her lips. “Then there’s the question of Jay…”

That shithead,I nearly growled.

“Is it a coincidence that he turned up now? With a lawyer, no less?” Pippa went on.

My mind saw evil connections everywhere, but maybe I wasn’t the best judge. So I did my best to stick with the facts.

“Two things don’t sit well with me,” I started, thoughseveral hundredwould be a closer estimate. “Jay hates lawyers. He would never get it in his head to hire one. And he certainly doesn’t have the money to pay one.”

“So, who would?” Pippa scrunched up her face, thinking. “And why? What kind of person would bother getting involved with someone else and their kid?”

“Someone who cares about Jay’s relationship with Claire?” Ingo tried.

I snorted. “Jay doesn’t care about his relationship with Claire. Why would anyone else?”

“Good point,” Ingo conceded. “That leaves someone who stands to gain from all this.”

We all went quiet, stumped.

Then Ingo’s expression changed, and he looked at me.

I tilted my head. “What?”

He hesitated, like I was a dog who’d snapped at him too many times. And, hell. I probably had.

Finally, he spoke. “What if we turn the proposition around? Maybe it’s not about who gains from Jay getting custody, but who stands to lose.”

“Claire,” I answered immediately.

Pippa and Ingo looked at each other, then at me.

“Claire andyou,” Pippa said gently.

True, but I couldn’t follow her train of thought.

“Awarding custody would give Jay power overyou,” Ingo emphasized.

“Why would he want that? What do I have control of that he — or someone else — wants?” I asked.

Pippa paled, and a heartbeat later, I did too.

“The ranch,” we both said at the same time.

Ingo took it from there. “That warlock — whatshisname…”

“Harlon Greene,” I practically spat.

“Right. Him,” Ingo agreed. “If he was interested in this property, then another witch or warlock could also be for…er, similar reasons.”

Ingo was putting it delicately, but we all knew what thosereasonswere. The secret vortex — or vortexes — on our property.

The room went quiet. So quiet, I could hear the horses nicker outside.

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