Page 5 of Wrong Number, Right Cougar

“Sweetheart.” The wifi was slow and there was an echo, reminding me of the dial-up modems from my childhood. “It’s up to you, but I wouldn’t go ahead with that before you see the place. It might be your future.”

I scoffed at that suggestion. Dad was always looking for signs that we should take one path over another, but I had my head down, a vision of that office with windows and a door embedded in my mind.

“Me and non-existent cougars! I don’t think so.”

Dad shuffled some papers and cleared his throat. “Did the lawyer mention anything else about Brett?”

Other than he’d been living under an assumed name, not that I could recall. “Like what?”

“Before Father passed away, he wrote a new will because he was worried that as a single parent, I’d need support.”

“Financially?”

“No, your father had life insurance, so we were fine for money.” He glanced away from the screen. “Brett was also your godfather.”

“What?” Why hadn’t anyone told me? “But I didn’t know he existed.”

Dad explained that he had disapproved of Father’s choice, having met Brett once. He thought one of the other uncles or aunts were better suited to being a godparent.

Father’s lawyer had been in touch with Brett at the time. He had replied saying if Dad ever needed help, he’d be there. But Dad hadn’t and never contacted him, thinking he’d be a bad influence on me.

It wasn’t like my dad to judge people like that, especially family, without getting to know them, but life was messy and complicated.

“Maybe I made a mistake not telling you, and I’m sorry.”

If I’d known, would I have insisted on finding Brett? I might have, as I’d gone through a rebellious phase as a teenager. Searching for an uncle who was considered the black sheep would be someone a teen was drawn toward.

I shrugged, one that was tinged with regret, but I had to look forward, not back. I hoped Uncle Brett had lived a happy and fulfilled life. That was all anyone could ask for.

There was a part of me that was intrigued about Brett, his assumed name Alexei, the lodge, and Cougar Lake. I continued having dreams about those dark eyes, and I’d wake up in a sweat, thinking there was a wild animal at the foot of the bed.

But I had to keep to the plan, and my boss wouldn’t be happy if I took a week or two off. I found the scrap of paper where I’d scribbled the real estate guy’s phone number. Not wanting to wait for Noah’s paperwork, I had called him back and gotten the number.

But now as I stared at it, there was no name to go with it. Not that it would matter. How many lodges did Cougar Lake have? Especially ones owed by Brett Taylor? Or was that Alexei Blaze?

I paused, thinking of Alexei Blaze as a swashbuckling pirate, sailing the seas for treasure, when in reality he was probably cleaning toilets for guests and cooking bacon and eggs for their breakfast.

But selling the lodge was the right thing to do.

I grabbed the phone. The number I’d written down was a little smudged. Hmmm, was that a one or a seven? It had to be a seven, as I always put a slash through the middle to differentiate it from a one.

It rang and rang, and I pictured a dusty realty office where the guy was asleep with his feet on the desk. But I pulled myself back from that thought. I didn’t know him or Cougar Lake. Just because it was a small place I’d never heard of didn’t mean they didn’t do a bustling business. That was a fault of mine: forming an opinion before I had all the facts.

“Yeah.”

Okay. The realtors in Cougar Lake were different from the ones I was used to.

“Hi. I’m Thorn Taylor.”

“Whatever it is you’re selling, I don’t want it.” He ended the call, the noise loud enough to have me pulling the phone away from my ear and making a face.

I tried again. Given the location, the odds were this was a landline I was calling, so he might not be able to see my number.

“Yeah.”

“I’m not selling anything, but I’m hoping you can sell something for me.”

“Doubt it.”

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