Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Jason steeled himself before he walked into the front guest lodge. If Jen was going to be a part of his everyday interactions while he was in Brandywood, he would have to play nice. He stared at the small ramshackle cabin. Barely over a few hundred square feet. It resembled a log cabin, which he guessed some guests found charming, but he wondered how Jen found enough space to sleep in that place.

She didn’t live here, did she?

He’d watched her struggle to pay the cashier at the drive-through the day before. Each time he thought about it, he felt a strange pressure on his heart. Just how poor was she?

He shook his head, the groaning of swaying branches in the trees bringing him out of his thoughts.

Now he really felt like a moron. As a kid, he remembered reading a book about a teacher that the students believed slept at school. Assuming Jen lived here felt a little like that.

He strode into the front guest lodge, pulling the glass door open. A bell jingled his arrival, a Christmas wreath on the door bouncing in the metal wreath holder. He’d been surprised to find a fully decorated Christmas tree in his cabin, too. They apparently went all-in during the holidays around here.

But Jen wasn’t at the desk. Instead, a pretty brunette sat behind the desk, staring at her laptop. She was older than Jen, by several years, it seemed. She gave him an easy, practiced smile and greeted him.

“I . . .” Jason set his hands on the counter. “I was looking for the woman who was working the desk last night.”

“Oh—Jen. Yeah, she does the night shifts around here a few nights a week. But I’m the owner, Laura Dawson. Can I help you?”

This was his chance to tell the owner all about Jen’s rude behavior. He searched Laura’s face for a moment, trying to gauge how receptive she would be. Not very . His skill with reading body language was something he prided himself on and the way this woman looked made it clear she regarded Jen as a friend.

Better to get Laura on his good side.

“She was very professional. Came and helped me out in the middle of the night when I couldn’t figure out how to get the hot water going. I wanted to thank her.” Jason reached for a red-and-white-striped mint from the candy dish on the counter.

He’d made the right choice. Laura’s dark eyes lit. “She’s great. Then again, she’s practically family, so I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“She’s got a kid, too, right? She was telling me about him.”

“Yeah, Colby’s here on the nights she’s working, too.” Laura stiffened, and she added cautiously, “I hope that didn’t make any issues for you, Mr....”

Thank God. He’d used a different last name when booking the cabin. His goal was to stay hidden from the PI the Powells had hired, if possible, but it had worked out with Jen working here, too. “Sutter.” He gave her a taut smile. “And no, the kid didn’t cause any issues.” He leaned back from the counter, feeling the urge to flee. “Any good lunch recommendations? I figured I’d go explore the town a bit.”

“The two best-known places on Main are Bunny’s Café and Yardley’s Pub. Actually, Peter Yardley and Bunny Wagner are both local celebrities around here. Bunny has a quarterly feature in This Charmed Life’s magazine, and Peter has a new cable television show with the Happy Home Channel that draws huge crowds. He’s got a big baking competition coming up soon, and it’s bringing tons of tourists to the area. You one of them?”

“No, actually.” It surprised Jason that two locals could have such notoriety, but he said nothing. He’d go to Bunny’s. If the Yardley guy was attracting tourists, he wanted to stay away from that. He wanted quiet. Time to think about how to get Mildred to talk to him. He thanked Laura and headed for the door. What sort of name was Bunny’s Café, anyway?

Then again, who named a kid Colby Klein?

Not that Colby Cavanaugh was much better, either. Well, the kid wouldn’t ever know about that last name.

Lucky bastard.

Jason got into his car and looked up Bunny’s, then set the driving directions on. Brandywood had changed a lot since he’d last been here. But it had beentwenty years.

Not that Mom had gotten away with bringing him and Kevin here too often . Jason had been fine with it, though. Most of what he remembered was sitting on the orange carpet in Mildred’s living room, trying to turn up the volume on the old television while Mom and Mildred fought in the kitchen.

He hadn’t wanted Kevin to hear Mom crying.

“You just take those two boys and come back here, you hear? We’ll find a way—”

“I can’t”—a strangled gasp from Mom—“I can’t. It’s not that simple. He controls everything I do. There’s no way he wouldn’t know.”

“Then don’t go back. Stay with me.”

“I can’t be without them, Mom. Not without the boys. And he’ll take them away. You and I can’t compete with his money. He’s got a team of lawyers strong enough to mow down anyone who challenges him . . .”

Mom hadn’t tried to bring them back to Brandywood after that trip. She’d shut herself in her room, closing the door for what felt like months.

Jason could still remember the notes he’d scribbled and shoved under the door. She hadn’t answered a single one.

As he pulled onto Main Street, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He parallel parked into a spot right in front of the café, then checked his phone.

TJ: What the hell are you doing in Brandywood?

Jason: How did you know I was here?

TJ: You pay me to know things. Be careful. You could lead Ned there.

Jason frowned at the phone. He’d thought of that. It was partially why he’d driven instead of flown down here. Harder to track.

Once again, his decision to book the cabin buzzed threateningly in his brain.

He studied the emblem on the steering wheel of his car. Maybe he could talk Mildred into lending him her old car and leave his car covered at the cabin. Even the car felt like a giveaway to his location.

If he could get Mildred to talk to him. She had to have a price. Everyone did. Just because she knew about the kid didn’t mean she knew anything about his grandfather’s will. Only a handful of people knew the details of that document.

He needed Mildred to agree not to tell anyone else about the kid. To never discuss Kevin’s last name with anyone who came knocking. His grandfather had done his best to expunge his mother’s family history from the record, as a matter of privacy. He didn’t want anyone looking into the lowly background of the woman Jason’s father had made himself a fool over.

Mildred showing up at her daughter’s funeral had been horrifying to Thomas. But it had also revealed to Jason how little his grandfather trusted anyone. He’d given Jason the task of removing Mildred rather than risk anyone else learning who the old woman was.

To the rest of the world, Jason’s mother had gone from Martha Price to Monique Sutter—a wealthy socialite from California. Only Kevin and Jason had known about Brandywood.

Stepping onto the street, he walked to the meter and then did an about-face. These weren’t like the meters in the city that took his credit card or worked by phone app. Did he even have a quarter? He looked through his car.

None. Fantastic.

He approached the café. Someone had decorated the large windows on the side with paper snowflakes and garlands, and twinkle lights framed the windows. In fact, all the shops on Main Street appeared to be decorated already.

He held the door for a woman exiting the café and went inside. A long bakery counter and display case showed a variety of baked goods, the full menu written on chalkboards on the wall behind it. The scent of coffee hung in the air, and the grinder screeched as he made his way over to the counter, where a short line waited. Tables were arranged artfully throughout the small space and beside the windows and a row of booths lined one wall. The wall itself seemed decorated with local artwork, which was for sale. Quaint.

Jason grabbed a bag of chocolate-covered espresso beans from a display and let his eyes wander the menu. He didn’t remember ever coming here. When his mom had brought him and Kevin to visit Mildred, they barely left the house.

He only remembered Main Street from the times they’d driven through it while he watched out the window.

Had he ever even asked to stop?

He didn’t remember doing it. Kevin had, though. But that was what younger brothers did—say things the older brothers knew they couldn’t.

As the line moved up, the girl behind the counter moved away from the espresso machine with a smile on her face. He stiffened. Jen.

Was this girl everywhere?

Maybe she had a twin.

She met his eyes, and her smile vanished. Nope, it was her. The corners of her eyes narrowed, then she set the drink she’d been working on at the far end of the counter and called out a name. When she returned her attention to him, she didn’t bother to look up. “What can I get you?”

He placed an order, watching as she scribbled it down in large, loopy cursive. She was probably the type of girl who made hearts instead of dots over her I’s. He struck the thought, staring at the top of her head. No, she wasn’t. She had too much of a chip on her shoulder for that. Any bubble in her personality had long since popped.

Probably by Kevin.

He paid in cash, and she avoided looking at him. “Thanks, your order will be right up. I’ll bring it to you.”

Tempted as he was to say something to her, he held his tongue and found his way to a table. He sat and slid his laptop from his case, feeling strangely unsettled. His decision to come to Brandywood had felt so smart two days ago. Like he was one step ahead of everyone else. All he had to do was talk to Mildred, convince her to stay quiet, and go back to his life in Chicago.

Now he wasn’t so sure about anything.

Should he feel bad about cutting this woman’s kid out of his due inheritance?

Absolutely not. She wasn’t a Cavanaugh. The kid was barely one.

He’d worked his ass off for his grandfather and the company. Held everything together when they’d restructured away from his grandfather’s dinosaur mentalities into twenty-first-century ideas. Not to mention all the bullshit he’d dealt with.

Kevin had cashed out early, taken off, and disappeared.

A shadow crossed his laptop screen as it powered up. He glanced to the side to see Jen holding his coffee in a steaming, artisan mug. She glared down at him, setting it on the table. “Are you following me?”

Oh. No wonder she’d been uncomfortable. Her concern was totally legitimate.

He gave her an easy smile. “If I told you you’re the one person in this town I’m trying not to run into, would you believe me?”

She scanned his gaze, not looking pacified. Crossing her arms, she sat, uninvited, in the chair across from his. “That doesn’t answer my question, though. If I were following someone, I wouldn’t want to run into them, either. So what is it? You’re just a terrible stalker? Or something else?”

“Look . . . Jen.” He noticed the nametag on her apron now, which he hadn’t seen when she was behind the counter. “I’m not following you. I’m not from around here, so this is weird for me, too, believe it or not. The chances of you turning up everywhere I go seem slim, even for a town this size. So I have to ask . . . are you following me?”

Her deadpan composure slipped and a smile played at the corner of her lips. Pretty lips. Full ones.

He looked away.

“Look . . . Jason.” She arched a brow and he smirked, leaning back in his seat. She had sass, that’s for sure. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I should have thanked you yesterday for helping, but truthfully, I was having a shitty day and I was really embarrassed to be your charity case. But thank you, regardless.” She stood. “The rest of your order will be up soon.”

He watched her go back behind the counter and shifted his focus to the coffee cup. The apology hadn’t been expected, and he didn’t really want it, either. He’d been happy to embrace the idea of her being rude. Lifting the mug, he sipped the coffee. It was surprisingly good. Not at all like the over-roasted swill he was used to getting from the big-name chain coffee shop at home.

The laptop beeped to alert him to an email. He hit the mute button on the keyboard. He didn’t want to deal with Bill Powell right now. Or Chad. Or Amanda.

The thought of Bill Powell as the face of Cavanaugh Metals made him sick. His family’s company had been known for years as one of the best metal fabricators in the automotive industry—not cheap, but superior quality. That reputation was something his grandfather had boasted about with pride. Now, with his grandfather gone and the inheritance at risk, Jason had been forced to assume the position of an employee on payroll, helpless to do anything to fix the company and even his own job at risk. An outsider.

He’d warned his grandfather against Bill. By then, he’d been dating Amanda long enough to see Bill’s penchant for “cost-cutting corners,” as he liked to put it. But the old man hadn’t listened. One year after the deal, it had come out that Cavanaugh Metals was no longer producing the same quality materials as before when several cars made with their products were involved in accidents.

The resulting lawsuits and bad press had cost them almost everything. Only Duncan Motors had stayed and that was because Chad was the CEO and the Powells owned large shares there, too. And it only helped the Duncans to have their own metal fabricator at their disposal.

Now Jason had to clean up the mess if he was going to help resuscitate the company his great-grandfather had built. Except the board refused to see it that way. Without his grandfather’s shares, it was a matter of time before they fired Jason, too.

Not wanting to imagine the possibilities for that board meeting, he opened a news app on his laptop and clicked on the business section. In college, reading business news had always energized him, given him ideas. Now it strangely felt like drowning.

The clink of porcelain against the wooden tabletop caused him to lift his head once more. Jen set the sandwich and bowl of soup down, wordlessly. He studied her profile. Hard to believe this was the person who had been around his brother before he died. Kevin had overdosed three and a half years earlier. Had he ever met the kid? “How old is your son?” Jason asked, surprising even himself.

Jen pulled silverware out from her apron. “He’s, uh . . . three. Just turned three in November, actually.”

Kevin had already been dead for over seven months by the time his son was born.

Jen’s gaze dropped to his left hand before asking, “Do you have kids?”

“No.” He frowned. “Not married.”

“Ah.” Her lips drew to a line, and she settled her weight on her back leg. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m good.” What was it about this girl who made normal speech difficult? He didn’t know what to say to her, and somehow she made his brain go silent. Talking to women was something that came naturally to him.

She hesitated, then added, “I don’t know if you need it, but I can add a note for the housekeeper to get you extra linens.” He gave her a quizzical look and a blush spread to her cheeks. “I mean at the cabins. Foryour girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” He almost spat out his coffee. She’d been paying attention to his activities from the previous night? Or maybe seen a car come and go. The idea of that woman being a girlfriend was ridiculous. Just a casual hookup, no questions asked. He made that much clear to every woman he’d been with recently.

And last night had mostly been about distraction. Seeing Mildred had rattled him more than he’d cared to admit. So he’d gone to a local dive bar and found the sort of company he’d been looking for.

“Boyfriend?”

This time, he threw back his head and laughed. Her blush got deeper. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know, forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Not at my other job now anyway.” She turned to go.

“I’m not gay. And no. Not my girlfriend. Just someone I met yesterday and who won’t be back. Not everyone is worth knowing forever.”

She stumbled at his words and Jason’s hand shot out to steady her. Was she scandalized? She froze and he released her immediately. Nope, shouldn’t have touched her. “Ope, sorry about that.”

Her eyes flew to his. “It’s fine.” Her eyes grew cloudy. “You remind me of someone I used to know, that’s all. Sorry. Not trying to be familiar.”

Being in a position where he knew more about her than she did about him gave him an unexpected feeling of control over the situation. He didn’t want to toy with her, but he couldn’t help but feel amused by their interactions. He crossed his arms. “Someone nice?”

“No, actually.” She gave him a pointed look. “You both have that in common.”

Yup, he scandalized her. “Ah, a devilishly handsome jerk. I get that a lot. Not really interested in a tip, are you?”

She smirked. “How about I promise not to spit in your food and we’ll call it even?”

He chuckled, watching her return to the back. Whatever his brother had seen in this girl, he guessed it had to do something with her quick wit. Or honesty.

Something about the way she said things was honest—refreshingly. Maybe she didn’t enjoy pretending or had never learned the art of hiding her emotions, but at least he didn’t have to guess what angle she was playing. Of course, he was certain that would all disappear if she knew who he actually was. The promise of easy money brought out the worst in most people. And this girl didn’t appear to have much money to her name.

Almost concerningly so.

Jason pulled out a set of noise-cancelling headphones and slipped them over his head. Her troubles weren’t his problem. If he’d learned anything from his grandfather, it was that there would always be an open hand the second people found out you had money. Filling that hand wouldn’t do anything. The lack wouldn’t go away and you’d be on the hook for more.

Even Kevin hadn’t known what to do with the money his grandfather had given him. He’d burned through it, drowned his guilt in sex and drugs, and died homeless.

The employees at Cavanaugh Metals deserved the job safety their grandfather had promised them before Powell had destroyed the company’s reputation. His grandfather never would have felt the need to bring on Bill Powell if Jason’s father had lived. But when his grandfather saw his legacy going to Jason, grief and hatred had blinded the old man.

He didn’t want the Powells to destroy what his family had built. But he knew he had to protect his own back first and foremost.

Because the only way to survive this world is to learn to look out for yourself.