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have to go tell my mother that your
father is a bastard. Again. Do you really want to stand here and listen to
that?”
    He stood. “You don’t know my father.”
    The razor slice was quick and deep. Painless on the first
layer, but the wound bled. She was so tired of bleeding for Lawrence Justice.
She thought she’d been well past it, and now with one letter, she was at his
mercy again. “No, I didn’t, and I never will.”
    When he’d leaned in and tried to charm her, there had been
pain and life in his ever-changing eyes. Now they were blank. “Let me show you
to the study. You can have privacy there.”
    She hooked her purse over her shoulder and followed him out.
Wide shoulders tight with muscles shifted under his dress shirt, tapering down
to a dip in his back. She halted her perusal. The man now owned half her entire
life’s work. How the hell was ogling him going to help matters?
    Instead she opened herself to the anger that rode just under
the surface. Anger would make things happen. She’d used it before, and she
could use it again. The urge to reach out in front of her and touch him, to
feel those muscles bunch and flow under her hand was a simple chemical
reaction. Living in her small coastal town had been isolating in the best of
times, but ever since she’d had to use every last ounce of energy to keep the
Heron running, she hadn’t had time to remember she was lonely.
    Until now.
    Until an admittedly attractive man was put in front of her.
    Thinking about Shane Justice naked was normal and natural.
Stupid, but normal. And her life had held little normalcy for the last eighteen
months.
    He opened a door for her, but instead of stepping back, he
stood in the doorway looking down at her. Intimidation seemed to be his default
reaction to everything. She would not be cowed by him. She turned, then brushed
against his chest with her own. When he sucked in a breath, she simply raised a
brow at him. Her heart pinged around in her chest like a firefly in a jar, but
she held her ground.
    She was close enough to catch the scent of cedar chips. She
frowned. Why would a suited-up guy smell like fresh wood?
    “Don’t be too long. We’ve got a lot of reading to do.”
    She slid into the room and sank into an overstuffed leather
chair. This room was personal. Her gaze drifted to the desk and the ledger that
was still open on the leather blotter. Her father’s desk. The lingering hint of
butterscotch made her eyes sting. She remembered her father always having
butterscotch in his pocket. She juggled her phone out of her bag and swiped it
to life. There were three text messages from her mother and another two from
her best friend, Bells.
    There was far too much to say in a text. She dialed Bells
first. She needed her laughter and her sanity.
    “Belinda Grayson.”
    “Bells?”
    “Oh, Ken, I’ve been so worried. You always text me back so
quickly.”
    Kendall fussed with her purse strap. Usually a text from her
best friend was the highlight of her day. Talking to men who grunted about game
and fish was definitely not the kind of conversations she longed for. “It’s
been a little crazy.”
    “Well? How’d it go?”
    “He did it to me again, Bells. Just when I think he can’t be
more of a shit, Lawrence proves me wrong.” She swallowed hard. No tears. That
man did not deserve a single tear from her. Not now, not ever. He’d lost the
right to any of her emotions over twenty-two years ago.
    “Why the hell did they have you come out for the will
reading, then? I don’t understand.”
    “Because they’re taking half of the Heron.”
    “What?” The worry and the outrage came across the line as
clearly as if her best friend had been sitting beside her.
    Kendall slipped her heels off and curled her feet under her
legs, pressing her forehead into the buttery leather arm of the chair.
Everything tumbled out. She didn’t know if half of it was coherent, but Bell
listened and didn’t interrupt