Page 13 of Her Property

Something twanged in Cat’s stomach. Of course. That was what was wrong with him. He liked pretty young women. Not that she knew how old he was, but he had to be at least her age. Glad to have something concrete to be irritated about, she straightened her back.

“Yes, Jake Colson. Could you please tell him I took a cab home?”

“You can do it yourself if you like.”

“Excuse me?”

The receptionist looked pointedly over her shoulder. Cat’s stomach sank as she turned.

The man in question was pulling open the door of the clinic. And he wasn’t alone—he was arm-in-arm with another woman. Never mind that she was a spry looking elderly woman with a purple streak in her hair.Jake was grinning and the older woman was laughing.

Cat’s stomach twinged again. Jesus, was she jealous of a grandmother now, too? Cat had never considered herself to be a jealous person. She didn’t have time for petty feelings like that.

Or you haven’t been interested in someone enough to care.

The thought was nonsense—she wasn’t interested in Jake. He was just… attractive. And she was lonely up here.

“You’re out!” Jake said when he saw Cat.

“This her?” the older woman asked.

Cat looked at Jake. What exactly had he been telling this woman? Were they laughing at her? Her stomach twisted harder.

“Catherine Jones,” Cat said, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand, then remembering her injury. She pulled it back.

“Well. Jake already told me, but I’d know you were a lawyer just from the way you say your name,” the woman said, laughing.

Cat’s cheeks grew warm, but before she could say anything, the woman smiled.

“Pearl Bradley. Nice to meet you, Catherine Jones. I’ll be needing my will updated soon. New son-in-law in the family,” she winked.

“Who’s that?” Jake said.

“My Ophelia. She finally got rid of that dead weight she’s been carrying around and found herself a lovely, handsome man. He reminds me a bit of you, my boy.”

Did Cat imagine it, or were Jake’s ears going pink? She would have warmed to him if she didn’t remember how the receptionist had smiled at him when he’d come in.

“I’m afraid I’m not an estate lawyer,” Cat said. “And I don’t live in town.”

“Shame!” the woman said. “Well, if you know of anyone please do pass their name on to Jake, would you?”

“I—” “You tell Anne I’ll come see her soon, won’t you?” Mrs. Bradley said to Jake, not waiting for Cat to tell her she wasn’t going to be seeing Jake after today.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jake said.

Cat settled up with the receptionist, who told Jake she’d email him next week. By the time they’d pushed out the door, she was about boiling over with questions—and not a little irritation.

“Did you tell that lady about what happened? And why is the receptionist emailing you?”

Jake laughed, and Cat flushed.

“Actually, never mind,” she clipped out, striding over to the truck. “I don’t need to know.”

“It’s alright,” Jake said.

When Cat reached the truck door, she turned and looked at him, waiting for him to come over and unlock the door. He stood there with his hands shoved in his back pockets, one foot up on the curb, squinting in the late afternoon sun, a smile playing on his face. Even in a hoodie and jeans, the man was infuriatingly handsome. Maybe especially in those clothes, because she knew exactly what was underneath.

Cat’s cheeks burned hotter, and she reached for the truck’s doorhandle, forgetting her bandaged hand already. Even though the doctor had given her some freezing before stitching her up, it was only topical, and banging her wound against the door handle still hurt like a sonofabitch. She growled, pulling her hand away.

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