Charlotte’s standing in the foyer, back facing me, taking pictures like she’s visiting a historic building instead ofmynew home. The one I nearly went broke for.
“Charlotte,” I breathe her name for the third time, chest heaving in the doorway. My hands are shaking. Her shoes are already off, sitting neatly onmyrug.
She whips around, face beaming. “Isn’t this place great?—”
“What the hell are you doing in my cabin?!”
CHAPTER 5
CHARLOTTE
Lovely.Justfuckinglovely.
It’s half-past six in the evening. I end the call with my real estate agent and thunk my head against the hallway wall. Wi-Fi and heart won’t fix this situation. Not even an ice queen with three assistants and a full legal team can untangle this mess.
From the kitchen, I hear the clinking of dog food against metal. At Kez’s command, Ember’s happy crunching noises follow. I haven’t eaten all day except for half a breakfast burrito almost ten hours ago. I should take a bite of something halfway nutritious, but the last thing I’m in the mood for is food.
My phone screen lights up with another call. It’s mom. An exasperated sigh slips from my lips. I silence it. Hearing my parents call my six-figure photography business a “hobby” for the hundredth time isn’t on today’s agenda. Certainly not while my business is at the center of a property law nightmare before Christmas.
I push off the wall and step back into the kitchen. Ember appears to be the happiest in the room, belly full and prancing around with a fuzzy sock in her mouth. Kez is leaning against the counter, her face vacant. She’s resting the edge of her phonefirmly against her forehead, brows pinched, obviously in deep thought. When she looks up, we lock eyes.
“Yours say the same thing?” I ask and sit on the island stool.
“Yeah.” She nods and exhales through her nose. “Something about mixed up county lines and a clause.”
I fix my gaze out the window to hide the lump in my throat. A beautiful pitch black with stars for miles. So much for my plan to enjoy peaceful evenings by the fire.
I swipe to unlock my phone and reread the email of the contract page my agent forwarded for the thousandth time. This time, I read it aloud.
“Per the clause, neither party may remove the other, change access or vacate the property without forfeiting all occupancy rights. This isridiculous,” I mutter and think for a second. Vacate the property. Not move out. Simply crossing the boundary marker? One step over, and it’s done. All rights forfeited. Lovely.
“It’s simple really,” Kez states and points toward the white property line outside. “Just step over and leave. Go buy a different cabin. Clearly you can afford it. Miss Thirty-thousandDollar Bid.” She flashes a look that’s half smug, half menacing.
“Of course, you were the other bidder.” I’m not a competitive person, but something about Kezia Langston always brings the fighting spirit out of me. The bedroom was no different. Heat crawls up my neck. “I should’ve added 5k for a little razzle dazzle.” I mock her with spirit fingers.
“Who the hell jumps thirty grand in one go? Or did your daddy Mayor pull some strings?” Kez snaps.
I scoff a laugh. She’s incorrigible. “I’m a woman with a business and a dream and a damn good credit score.”
“Right. Well, this is my cabin. You can leave.” Kez crosses her arms, prompting me to do the same. She pushes off the counter edge and opens the sliding double doors to let Ember outside.
“What are you going to do if I don’t?” I raise a brow. “Arrest me?”
Our eyes lock. Is that a smirk? She closes the distance, fire in her eyes. She leans in, her gaze lands on my lips and back up. “You’d like that too much.”
My heart thumps against my chest. “Love to see you try.”
God. We’re flirting again. I can’t help myself with her.
She lifts a brow and steps back, clicking her tongue. “Do you remember how my family used to leave every Christmas? How my dad’s favorite place was the mountains?”
My stomach drops when she gestures around the room.
“Thisis the cabin. My dad taught me how to fish in that pond while my mom watched. I bet the third door on the right still sticks. Two years ago, before my dad passed, my family would sit right here and fight over spoons during game nights at thisexactspot.” Kez slaps both palms against the kitchen island and squares her shoulders toward me. “Some of the last memories I have with him were here. So, no,” she growls, chin trembling. “I’m not leaving.”
“I didn’t know,” I say, voice small.
Guilt pierces through my annoyance. This place is her history. Her family. Good times with her dad. But it’s my fresh start. My future. Not just mine, but Rory’s too.
