by Skylar Hill
The joys of being a woman, she thought hopelessly. Now to make sure Rhett doesn’t throw a punch at this guy.
“Get away from her,” Rhett growled and the smile on the man—Durbin’s—face as he looked at Rhett, then at Nat, made something sick churn in her stomach.
“Oh, is that how it is?” Durbin chuckled meanly. “Maybe you will be able to satisfy the easement laws, Oakes. I’ll be calling your lawyer. Sweetie,” he winked at Nat. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“For one of us,” Nat drawled, her eyes narrowing at him, and he turned red, that angry, blotchy red that spoke of a simmering temper ready to explode.
“Get out of here,” Rhett bit out. “Before I throw you to the mountain lion I’ve got out back.”
Nat watched, mystified and still feeling icky as the guy left. “What was that about?’ she asked, and Rhett jerked his head down the hall.
“In my office,” he said between clenched teeth. “Robby,” he called at one of the bellhops. “Make sure the guy who just left actually leaves the property. And tell the gatehouse that he’s not allowed on the property without alerting me, understood?”
“Of course, Mr. Oakes,” said Robby, hurrying off to do his bidding.
Nat could feel her eyebrows form a solid line as she followed him back into his office. “Okay, spill.”
“That asshole,” Rhett pointed at the door. “Dug up some obscure law from the…” he looked down at the file on his desk. “From the fucking 1800s!” he finished.
“Huh?” Nat asked, still in the dark.
“The law. Some fucking clause says that because I’m an unmarried man, I can’t hold the easement to the water rights up on the west side.”
“Wait… what?” Nat snatched the file off his desk, scanning the document. “That can’t be right. That’s ridiculous.”
Rhett shook his head. “I’ve read it through three times. The law is still on the books. They just never got rid of it. And that asshole’s taking me to court over it!”
“Okay, but the judge will just throw it out,” Nat said. “No problem.”
“Except that the hot springs are right there, Nat,” he said, pointing to the map in her hand. “The old water tanks and a quarter of the hot springs are on the O’Reilly farm side. The easement’s over a hundred years old and it’s never been a problem before. Now I’ve got this guy threatening… fuck… everything.”
A spark of panic—a bit of what he was clearly feeling—lit inside her. “Okay, calm down,” she said. “There has to be a way to fight this. What did your brother say? Jace?”
“I haven’t called him,” Rhett said.
“You haven’t… Rhett! He’s the lawyer in your family! Call him!”
He glowered, looking like a little boy who had been told to eat his vegetables. “I am never going to hear the end of this from them,” he said. “The entire family still thinks I’m out of my mind for not going into business.”
“You did go into business, you just didn’t go into their business,” Nat said, and something in his eyes flickered when she said it, something that spoke of being seen and understood, and it made her feel warmer and happier than it should that something she said made him feel like that.
“Call your brother,” she ordered. “You need a lawyer with stuff like this. Have him go over everything. It’s probably just a con or power play this guy is pulling. He wants something from you and is trying to use this weird law to do it.”
“Yeah, he wants my fucking water rights,” Rhett said. “The refuge is entirely fed from the artesian spring that’s up there next to the hot springs,” he said. “Clear, cold, pure drinking water. It’s piped in. I don’t have a well over on that side of the property—just the spring. Screw the bathhouses, if I can’t have access to the smaller spring, the refuge doesn’t have water. What if he wants to bottle it or sell it or something?”
“Call Jace and get him on it,” Nat repeated. “He has investigators, he has all the resources needed to get answers. Call your brother!”
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out. Liberty again.
“I have to take this,” she said. “It’s going to be okay.” She reassured him, and some of the tension did ease from his face at her words. “Call your brother.”
He glowered, but he picked up his phone.
“I’ll see you for dinner at five,” she said, ducking out of the office, telling herself that surely Jace would say it was an easy fix. No way was an old law like that going to be held up in court.
“Hi, Liberty, what’s up?” she asked as she stepped out on the porch to take the call.
“Okay, so I’ve done some more digging about this Kingston guy,” Liberty said. “Turns out he’s the pastry chef at this tea room on the north side of London, so I’m going there to scope things out, but I’ve got a working theory of why he doesn’t want to sell.”
“What’s that?” Nat asked.
“The reason we want the building so much is because of location, right? I mean, it’s gorgeous, but there are tons of gorgeous buildings we could find. So… I’m thinking… this guy, he doesn’t own his own pastry shop. He just works for someone else. What if he’s like, holding the building for a future bakery? That’s why he won’t sell it?”
“That’s a good angle to work from,” Nat said. “Definitely feel that out.”
“I’m going to look at a few more places later today, since I’m flying back Monday,” Liberty said. “I’ll try hard not to let you down on the Kingston property, but if we do want to launch next spring, we need to buy a place this winter in order to get someone across the pond to oversee renovations and hire and train staff. So we can’t let this drag out.”
“Definitely not,” Nat said, appreciating Liberty’s go-getter spirit.
“Okay, my cab’s almost at the tea room, so I’m going to go and try to squeeze more information out of Mr. Pastry Chef,” Liberty said. “Just wanted to give you an update.”
“Call me tomorrow with the details,” Nat said. “Thanks, Liberty.”
“Anytime,” Liberty said. “Bye.”
Nat hung up, taking a moment to stand on River Run’s porch and stare out at the expanse of mountain and pines in front of her. A pit formed in her stomach at the thought of any of it being threatened. What was Rhett’s neighbor’s problem? Who dug up ancient laws from the Gold Rush era to fuck with their new neighbor? Surely he had to have a motive for pulling such a move.
But what? she thought. She paged through her contacts, pulling up the private investigator that she used for background checks on her employees. It wasn’t a practice she was thrilled to have to do, but when you worked in the sex toy industry, you sometimes attracted some creepy people who thought it was one giant orgy or something. You had to be cautious to protect your workforce. She called Etta Miller, who was a sweet, motherly woman who dug up the best dirt on everyone because she looked like, well, someone’s mom.
“Etta Miller’s office,” said the receptionist when she called.
“Natalie Banks for Etta,” Nat said.
“Ms. Banks, hello,” said the receptionist. “Of course. I’ll put you right through.”
There was a ten-second twang of Muzak before Etta picked up.
“Natalie, how are you? I haven’t see you since the Our Safe Place gala in October.”
“I’m good, thanks, Etta. I hope you’re doing well, too.”
“I am. Do I have another round of background checks ahead of me? I know you were talking about opening a new store at the gala. I’m afraid I don’t have as many contacts as I’d like in London to do the job for you, but I can put you in touch with some excellent international private investigators over there.”
“I’m actually calling about something a little closer to home,” Nat said, unable to shake the terrible look that had passed over Rhett’s face as he’d told her what Durbin was trying to do. “I’d like you to find out everything there is to know about one Timothy Durbin. He just bou
ght the farm that used to be owned by a Matt O’Reilly.”
“That’s plenty to go on,” Etta said. “You’ve got a time crunch on this?”
“Major time crunch,” Nat said. “He’s been making some moves that are the cause of some concern for a friend of mine. His neighbor, Rhett Oakes. He owns River Run, the wilderness retreat and wildlife refuge.”
“I know River Run,” Etta said. “My daughter had a field trip out to the wildlife refuge just a few weeks ago. She got to interact with possums, which pretty much made her life. She’s still talking about it. They’ve got some great people working up there; they really go the extra mile.”
“They do,” Nat agreed. “It’s a wonderful place. But Durbin is trying to challenge the property’s water rights. He’s using this obscure old law to challenge Rhett’s rights to an easement to the hot springs that straddle the property line. I’m concerned he’s going to cause some big and costly problems for Rhett—and for the business and refuge.”
“Oh, dear. I’ll get right on it,” Etta said. “Should updates go to your assistant or directly to you?”
“Directly to me,” Nat said. “Use my personal email and line.”
“Great. I’ll go figure out what the heck this guy is up to. I’ll make it my priority. More later, okay?”
“Thanks, Etta,” Nat said, saying her good-byes and hanging up, feeling instantly better. If Timothy Durbin was up to anything, Etta would find out what.
Her phone buzzed again—because it was never not buzzing—but this time it wasn’t a phone call. It was the alert to let her know her massage was in an hour.
Crap! She needed to shower.
Seven
Rhett
By the time dinnertime rolled around, Rhett was feeling a little like he was waging a war. The last thing he wanted to do after the long, slightly strained conversation with his older brother was to sit in the lodge’s dining room with all eyes on him as he ate with Nat.
Which is why, when he heard a knock on his door and opened it to see her standing there, a bottle of wine in her hand and a Tupperware container tucked under her arm, he almost sighed in relief.
“I thought I’d make you something,” she said, breezing past him into the house, heading straight for the kitchen. “I got stuff from the lodge kitchen. Alfredo ok?”
He nodded. “How’d you get Henry to let you in the kitchen?” he asked with interest, settling himself on a stool at the kitchen island. “He’s usually more territorial than a bear. He doesn’t even let me in there, and I own the place.”
“You don’t have my winning personality,” Nat smiled. “Henry and I bonded over our mutual love of Italy and our mutual hate of that hack chef at the Norris.”
He rolled his eyes. “Are you still on that?” he asked. “That was what, last summer we went?”
“The lack of vegetarian options was a travesty,” Nat said.
“Considering I was the vegetarian in question that night at that particular restaurant, you’d think I’d be the one all offended.”
“They tried to feed you a salad of tomato slices and onions and said it was a good vegetarian option! In Portland, of all places! We are the land of hipsters and vegans!”
“It was pretty gross,” he admitted. “But if I’m not angry about it, why are you?”
She sighed. “You never come into the city unless you have to. The least I can do when you actually do come in from your hermitage is to feed you good food and show you the best the city has to offer. When I miss a mark, I get cranky.”
“Your perfectionist streak is going to bite you in the ass one of these days,” he drawled, smiling to let her know he was joking.
She tossed him a head of garlic and he caught it automatically. “Dice that up for me,” she said, before going to dig in his cabinets for pots and pans.
Rhett tried to concentrate on the task, but it was hard when she was bustling and bending around in his kitchen, her jeans hugging her perfect ass in the most distracting way.
“You know I’m not staying away from the city because of bad salads, right?” he asked.
“I know,” she said, filling his stockpot up with water and setting it on the stove to heat. He watched as she poured a glug or two of olive oil into the water, along with a few healthy pinches of kosher salt.
He liked her moving around the place like she owned it. She always filled a room, Nat did. It was the kind of talent and presence that few people had. But she did. Always.
“Did you call Jace?” she asked as she began shredding the Parmesan cheese.
He nodded. “He’s coming out tomorrow morning to look at everything for me. Hopefully he’ll just be able to clear it up with a few calls.”
“I’m sure if he just gets it in front of the right people, it’ll be dismissed,” Nat assured him. “I can’t believe there are silly laws like that still on the books,.”
“Garlic is diced,” he announced, putting down the knife.
She took the cutting board from him, scraping the garlic off the wood and into a skillet where she was heating butter and heavy cream together. “Nutmeg?” she asked.
“Really?” Even as he was asking the question, he was reaching over her head to the spice cupboard and removing the bottle for her.
“Just a touch,” she said, adding a tiny pinch to the heating mixture.
“I like that you never measure anything when you cook,” he said after a few minutes, watching as she added the pasta to the boiling water and the cheese to the cream and butter and he made the garlic bread.
“And I hate that you still won’t tell me what’s the secret ingredient in your garlic bread,” she shot back.
“It is a sacred secret passed down from Oakes woman to Oakes woman,” Rhett said, adopting a mock horrified look. “And also to me, because I was the only boy who was remotely interested in cooking, so my Grandma told me.”
She laughed, flicking a chunk of garlic at him.
“Grandma always told me that my ability to cook would win me all the girls,” he went on. “But really, I was more interested in my stomach. My father sucked at cooking and our housekeeper when I was a kid was obsessed with casseroles. But my Grandma was a great cook. It was total selfish food love, nothing to do with getting girls.”
“That came later, I’m sure,” she said.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve seduced scads of women with my kale salads.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she said. “Grab the colander for me.”
He grabbed the stainless steel contraption, holding it over the sink as she poured the pasta into it, draining the water. She added the pasta straight into the skillet with the sauce, tossing it with tongs until each noodle was coated with the thick, creamy Alfredo.
Rhett plated the garlic bread and carried it over to the table; then poured wine as she brought the pasta and the bowl of salad—not kale this time, but romaine with apples and sunflower seeds.
She always ate with one of her legs tucked underneath her when she was at home or in his dining room, a cute little habit that he would’ve never known if he hadn’t invited her deeper into his life. How many times had she cooked in this kitchen now? It must be dozens. Often when she came out to River Run for a ride, she stayed the night in one of the executive suites, and more often than not, they found themselves back here for dinner, at his place, instead of in the four-star restaurant that was literally a stone throw’s away.
You’ve been playing with fire for a long time, he thought. That dance last night was just adding fuel to it.
The pasta was perfect, and so was the little moan she made when she bit into the garlic bread he’d made.
So much fucking fire. What the hell were you thinking? You’re knee deep in flames, dude.
“So what did Jace say exactly?” she asked.
“That he knew something like this was going to happen and that I should have known better,” Rhett said.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Not in as many words
,” he said. “But between the lines. He’s disappointed.”
“This isn’t your fault,” she said. “This is like one of those weird news stories you only hear about. Totally out of your control.”
“You know that’s not the way it is with my brothers,” he said. “I will forever be the fuck-up baby of the family.”
She rolled her eyes as she twirled fettuccini on her fork. “Your brothers need to get the hell over themselves and start seeing reality. You created something new out of River Run. A place that’s not just special, but lucrative. You made a smart business choice, Rhett. You’ve continued to make them through the past few years as you expanded. Why they and your father don’t see that as a addition to the family legacy instead of, I don’t know, some sort of thumbing your nose at their business, mystifies me.”
“It’s because they all refused to give me a loan when I wanted to do the initial expansion,” Rhett said. “Or rather, my father refused. Which means the Board of Directors of the Oakes empire refused, because my father’s word is law. I think… I think I was supposed to come crawling after his initial rejection. Tell him I needed his help with the whole process, not just with the money part. But I had a vision. I knew what I wanted. So I went out and got the funding. With your help.”
“I didn’t realize you’d asked your father before you went to New York,” she said softly, new understanding in her face.
He shrugged. “Family dynamics are weird sometimes. I feel like I’m forever stuck in the baby role, like everyone’s just waiting for me to lose it, because I was the motherless one.”
“Oh, Rhett,” she said, reaching out and squeezing his arm.
“I know they mean well,” he said. “They’re good people. They just…”
“They keep waiting for you to fall,” she finished for him, and it was the perfect way to put it. “And it’s meant well, because they’re waiting so they can catch you. But if they keep expecting you to fail, they’re going to miss all your accomplishments.”