Page 36 of Her Property

As he rolled paint onto the siding, he wondered if his mother were alive if she might have been able to give him some clues as to the origin of this feud. Gramps definitely would have been able to, but his grandparents had never wanted to talk about it. He’d flat out refused the one time Jake had asked him. Jake hadn’t pushed—it was only curiosity then. Now he wished he’d persisted.

He’d tried to ask Gran when Alfred served him with the lawsuit last month. But she’d gotten so confused, and then upset when he tried to ask again, that he’d given up. It was only as he was leaving that she said something mildly coherent—that it wasn’t his fault. Whatever had happened wasn’t about him. He’d wanted to ask her more but she drifted off again, asking him to remind her what his name was and why he was there again.

Whatever Gran knew was long gone, having slipped away like all the other bad memories. He vowed not to ask her about any of it again. Whatever time she had left shouldn’t be spent in pain.

The only one left who likely knew about the feud, James realized as he finished the first coat on the wall, was Alfred himself. And damned if he’d give anything more than what was printed on the court order. Anyway, it didn’t matter. Whatever had happened between their families was long over, the people involved dead except for him and Alfred. And if Alfred cared that much about it, he wasn’t going to back down. Jake could ask Cat to help—he’d thought about that before, but what could she possibly do? There was so much Jake didn’t know. Alfred’s heels were dug in deep—the lawsuit was proof of that. Even if Cat wanted to help, she’d be putting her job and her relationship with Alfred at risk, and Jake couldn’t ask her to do that. Especially not when it was a losing proposition. Besides, she’d already said she was standing by Alfred.

Jake lowered the paint roller. There was no solving this. He was going to lose the camp, just like he’d lost everything else.

Just like he was going to lose Cat.

His chest ached so hard he dropped the paint roller, rubbing his hand against his chest. But he’d already lost Cat. He’d never had her in the first place.

He didn’t have the camp, either. Jake swallowed down the pain of the truth, the thing he’d known all along—he wasn’t going to be able to save this camp. He never stood a chance. He’d concede the land. He’d move away from Ruby Lake and all its messed up memories.

Jake threw down the roller. There was only one good thing that would come out of this decision. He could see Catherine Jones at least one more time. And he could do it now.

Cat

That night, Cat found herself once more unable to concentrate on anything, least of all the supposedly fast-paced thriller in her hands.

But it wasn’t work that was distracting her anymore. She didn’t even care about her fuck-up in court; or at least it had taken a backseat to everything else.

All she could think about now was Jake and Alfred and the feud between them. The acrimony between them was hurting them both. She knew Alfred would never admit it, but she would put money on this anger he felt for Jake being at least a contributing factor to his poor health. And for Jake, starting the camp was critical to his personal absolution of his brother’s death.

Cat slapped the book down on the table, giving up on trying to read. She went into the kitchen and poured herself a good-sized glass of wine. Sometimes a Pinot Noir helped slow down her runaway mind.

As she sipped her wine she thought about how on their own, the two of them were decent men. More than decent men.Goodmen.

Alfred she’d known for a decade. She looked up to him. She trusted him. And she loved him in the way she’d wanted to love her father. And though she’d only known Jake a matter of days, the amount they’d packed into those days somehow felt like years. Aubrey had been right—he was a good man. She recalled how he’d softened when he saw she was hurt. How he’d helped her get undressed without so much as a suggestion that he would try anything, even though by that point she’d desperately wished he would. She felt safe with Jake.

And she felt attracted to Jake, in a way that almost scared her. She kept pulling up the image of him standing dripping on the dock like it was a secret photograph she’d found tucked in her brain. Each time she saw it that electric jolt hit her down low with the same intensity as when she’d actually been there.

The wine alone wasn’t going to cut it. She wanted to be in the same place she’d stood naked for him.

Cat went upstairs and ran the bath, only this time, running it hot, with a healthy dollop of bath oil. When she stripped off her clothes, she imagined it was Jake’s hands doing it again. When she was fully naked, she imagined him opening his eyes and bringing his hands to his jeans.

She stepped into the bath while Fantasy Jake reached into his shorts and pulled out his stiff cock. She let out a moan of pleasure, and as she lowered herself into the tub and hot water licked at her body, she pictured herself still standing there with Jake lowering himself onto one knee, reaching around to cup her ass, and bringing her pussy to his mouth.

As Cat arched her back in the water, pinching her nipple with one hand and drawing circles on her clit with the other, she imagined his tongue flicking at her centre, faster, harder, wetter.

He would be so good at fucking her, she knew he would.

She imagined him standing up and bending her over, her elbows on the edge of the tub and him slipping in to her from behind, filling her up with his cock and making her scream.

Once more she came so hard her body spasmed. Water sloshed out of the bathtub and onto the floor. God, she wanted Jake. She’d never wanted anyone more.

* * *

The next morningthe memory of her fantasy lingered fresh, and she was tempted to lose herself to it once again. But she remembered Laura was going to try to get information from Alfred today. She’d said at the end of their call that she had a lunch meeting with him, and told Cat to call after one.

Brushing her teeth, making breakfast, and tidying up took her all of half an hour. At loose ends and with lunchtime hours away, Cat decided to go into town to pick up some groceries. Maybe she’d make herself a nice lunch too. At least it would be a way to keep herself busy until it was time to call Laura.

At the store, Cat overbought several expensive condiments and cheeses, and while she was packing her too-many grocery bags into the trunk of Alfred’s Porsche, she was startled by a honk. She turned to see a woman rolling down the window of an older red pick-up truck.

It was the truck she’d seen at the hobby farm.

The woman in the driver’s seat rolled down her window. “You must be Jones’s houseguest,” she said.

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