Page 27 of Bracing The Storm

Patrick’s face flashes before my eyes.

“I got a job at a café.” I shrug at the way his face lights up with interest. “Nothing special, just a few hours to help me out financially.”

“That’s great.” He repeats and clears his throat again. “Look, Lori. There’s something else I need to tell you, particularly now that you seem to want to stay after all.”

I raise my brows.

He hesitates again, as though preparing his words. Given that he’s a lawyer and probably used to rehearsing his speech,his hesitation leads me to believe his bad news involves something or someone unpleasant.

“You can’t kick Patrick out.” He holds out a hand before I can say anything. “I know you told me he’s been a bit of a nuisance and you want him gone. But I’m afraid, as long as that judge hasn’t even looked at the paperwork let alone signed on it, we can’t force him to leave.”

I smirk.

Patrick again. It’s like he’s everywhere.

“But I thought you said the property’s mine.” I sound like a whining child, but I can’t have the guy around 24/7. That wouldn’t be good for my mental health…or panties. I can’t change my underwear every time I see him just because my body seems to show the infuriating reaction of getting a little worked up whenever I so much as see him.

Duncan nods slowly. “The property is yours, just not legally. From a legal perspective, it still belongs to the late Ms. Walsh’s rightful heir, which would be Patrick.”

Rightful.

There’s that word again.

“It’s all a minor technicality, a little loophole in the system, and only temporary, of course,” Duncan continues.

Grimacing, I peer at the open door, almost expecting the annoying guy to pop his head in and laugh in my face, his stunning eyes glinting with arrogance.

“I can’t stay in the same house with a stranger,” I mutter. The sugar high is long gone, and the buttery cake seems to have turned into heavy stones in my stomach. “Is there nothing you can do?”

“The firm has looked into it. There isn’t an angle we’ve left unchecked. Unfortunately, Patrick can stay, for the time being.” Duncan squeezes my hand over the table and shoots me a smile. I assume it’s supposed to offer some sort of reassurance, but itfails to have the desired effect. “I’ve known Patrick for a long time. He isn’t the most agreeable lad, but he’s no danger to you. Just ignore him and make the best use of your time here. Enjoy your stay, go sightseeing, make new friends.”

Duncan vouching for Patrick and assuring me of my safety isn’t going to ease my mind one bit. Patrick might not pose any danger in the sense that I could end up buried under the rosebushes, but he sure is dangerous to other parts of me. I’m mature enough to realize that I’m hugely attracted to him, and I have yet to find a way to get that attraction out of my system.

My brows shoot up. “Wait a second. Are you suggesting I share a house with him?”

Duncan shrugs. “I don’t see why not. The house is big enough to fit half the village. I bet he won’t even be around for most of the day.”

Living together?

That sounds like the worst idea ever. Not only do I not know Patrick Walsh; we also seem to be allergic to each other.

“Give it a try while I settle your matter,” Duncan says, sensing my reluctance. “Best-case scenario, it’s only for a few days. A few weeks tops.”

Worst-case scenario, the whole thing could take months. Months I don’t have.

But what other choice do I have?

“Fine.” I smile. “I can endure his presence for a week or two.”

“That’s settled then.” He stands up, signaling he’s heading off again. I feel a little disappointed, but not enough to ask him to stay a bit longer. “If you need anything, you have my number. You can call me anytime.” There’s something in his tone that makes me look up. Our eyes connect. I think I catch something like a glint in his gaze. Even though it’s too fleeting to tell for sure, the way he hovers in the doorway, a little too close for comfort, tells me there’s some interest there.

“Thanks.” I shoot him a faint smile and head down the hallway. I can feel his gaze on me, hesitating, questioning. While I feel flattered, it also makes me feel uncomfortable. Duncan is a nice, good-looking man, but I’m not keen on romantic entanglements at the moment, and particularly not when I don’t even know where I’ll be in a few weeks’ time. For all I know, the house could be sold by then and I’ll be back in New York, ready to face the mess I’ve been running from.

Oh, whom am I kidding?

This isn’t about me leaving.

“Lori?”

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