3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Remington

Something soft bounced off my forehead, stopping me in my tracks.

“What the hell?” I bit out. The offending object rolled across my foot. “Why are you throwing muffins at me?”

“It was one muffin, and you have to leave. This is private property,” the intruder commanded in a high, quavering voice. “If you need clothes, I’ll throw them out the window once you’re outside.”

Next thing I knew, a desk chair launched toward me. The thick rug on the floor slowed it down. By the time it reached me, it was barely rolling. I gripped the back, keeping it between me and the woman now brandishing a keyboard like a baseball bat.

“Clothes? Why would I—?”

I looked down, shocked to find myself naked, though I wasn’t sure why. I’d been getting ready to take a shower when I’d heard movement and a voice coming from downstairs. My instincts had carried me down here without a plan…or clothes.

Too many years of living and working in dangerous situations kept my guard up, even though the angry bull facing me down didn’t strike me as a true threat. The longer we stared at each other, the more familiar she looked.

“Why are you still standing there?” she raved, the keyboard poised, ready to smash my head in. It wasn’t a heavy weapon, but it might do the trick. The scar running along my temple twinged. “If you don’t get out of here right now, I’m not going to bother giving you pants. You can fry your pasty ass off in the sun.”

I kept the chair strategically in front of me—and not because I was modest. I didn’t trust this woman not to make mincemeat out of parts of me better left intact.

“Seeing as this is my dad’s house, and you’re not him, I’m thinking you should be the one to get out.”

She barked an incredulous laugh.

“Nice try, bucko. This is Graham Town’s house. His son hasn’t been heard from in more than a decade.” Her fingers flexed, and those feral eyes roved over my face. “The asshole,” she muttered.

Now that I had been able to take a nice long look at the intruder without adrenaline coursing through me, I knew exactly who she was. When I’d left town, she’d been around fifteen or sixteen. She’d done a lot of growing up since then, but there was no denying those chocolate-brown eyes. They were a Kelly trait through and through. Same as her height, which had to be nearly six feet. I remembered her being coltish, like a newborn horse getting used to its gangly limbs. She’d filled out since then. In a black tank revealing long, tan arms defined with muscle and well-worn jeans clinging to strong, endless legs, there was no doubt Hannah Kelly was all woman.

She was also the second Kelly who’d forgotten me in the span of twenty-four hours.

“Don’t think it’s right to call me an asshole just yet, considering I haven’t been around to earn it,” I said.

Her big brown eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? And why are you still standing in my office buck naked?”

“Which question do you want me to answer first?”

Groaning, she let her eyes roll heavenward. “None of them. Get outta here right now before I call Henry. He might be old, but he’s fast, and he’s a prepper. He’ll come down here with a cannon if I tell him some naked perv broke into the house.”

Her office? Interesting. Now that she’d said it, this room did have a distinctly feminine touch. Not that there were any pink or roses, but it smelled slightly sweet and a whole lot fresh, and artistic pictures of horses and landscapes hung neatly on the wall. Graham hadn’t been much of a decorator back when I was around, and I didn’t figure that had changed.

“Didn’t break in.”

She raised her chin. “Yeah, you did. I remember locking the door behind me.”

I winged a brow. “Do you?”

The tension in her arms eased as her eyes slid to the side. Like she was searching her memory, doubting herself.

Then she went taut again.

“Yes, I do remember. Which means you broke in. If you damaged the lock, I’m billing you for it. If you messed with anything else, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?”

“Let’s just say you’ll be wishing for the muffin.”

I could have gone back and forth a while longer, but my presence was causing her stress, and I didn’t like that.

Chuckling, I looked her square in the eyes. “I know it’s been a while, and I have a couple more scars than I used to, but you really don’t recognize me, Hannah Kelly?”

She gave me another long look. Something sparked in her gaze, and her mouth fell open. She’d managed to make her slack-jawed surprise look cute…before it morphed into tight-lipped anger and fiery red cheeks.

“Remington Town, you’re about a month too late.”

My hands tightened on the back of the chair. “That’s one way to see it.”

She tossed the keyboard on her desk and folded her arms over her chest. “We buried Graham four weeks ago—but I guess you probably know that from all the messages you received. I’m only guessing you received them since you’re here, not because you bothered to return any of them.”

Henry’s voice had replayed in my head since I first heard it. “Yer dad’s dead, kid. Guess you gotta come back and settle up.”

“I got the messages. You want to talk about it, I will, but not when my ass is in the wind.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. “Oh my god, go get dressed, and please stop bringing up your ass.”

Despite myself and where I was, I grinned at her holding her hand over her face like the sight of me was offensive. She’d been a wildcat way back when, and it seemed like that still held true. A lot had changed, and I was inexplicably relieved that wasn’t something that had.

“If that makes you happy, Hannah Kelly.”

She shooed me away, and this time, I went.

Hannah was in the kitchen when I returned, fully clothed. The second she saw me, her spine stiffened, and she eyed me warily, but she didn’t offer a word of explanation for her presence in Graham’s house.

I poured myself a cup of the coffee I assumed she’d made and added some of the milk she must have bought if her growl was anything to go by. Considering she was the intruder and I had every right to be here, I didn’t let it bother me.

We were in a silent standoff while I drank my coffee and looked around the kitchen. Graham had done a lot of work on the place. The cabinets had been painted bright white, and what looked like a relatively new butcher block counter had been installed. The walls were painted too, and the light fixtures had been switched out. The only thing I recognized was the oversized farmhouse sink, and even that looked different. What had always been filled with dirty dishes was now empty and scrubbed clean.

Hannah huffed, bracing her hands on the island opposite from where I stood. “I was in a pretty foul mood before you came bumbling into my space, swinging your dick at me.”

“Didn’t swing it at you,” I muttered, not bothering to raise my voice. She was on a roll and most likely wouldn’t have heard me anyway.

“I don’t know why you bothered showing up after all this time, but let me make something clear, Remington Town, we don’t need you here. Everything that needed to be taken care of has been, and that includes seeing your father to the other side. You can go back to your adventurous, freewheeling lifestyle and leave the rest of us in peace.”

My mug clunked as I set it down, but Hannah didn’t flinch.

“Think you remember I go by Remi,” I said softly.

She lifted one shoulder. “Things change. I figured since you’re famous now, you’re probably a little more formal. Isn’t that what your byline says?”

I huffed a humorless laugh. That was the last thing I’d expected to be talking about right now. “I’m flattered you’ve been following my career, but famous is a stretch.”

There were one or two photojournalists who were widely known, but for the most part, it was our pictures that became famous, which was all well and good with me. I didn’t do it for the acclaim.

Her fingers flexed on the counter, turning white from the pressure. “Graham followed his son’s career. He showed me your pictures every chance he got. I had little to no interest, but since I respected him, I paid attention.”

It was incredibly hard to believe Graham had cared about me after I’d left since he hadn’t bothered to while I’d been living in the same house, but this woman had no reason to lie to me. But I couldn’t take what she was saying in, wrap my head around it. Not when a headache was sneaking in with all the anger I’d lassoed and left behind in tow.

“Funny, ’cause when I was here, the old man had little interest in me.” I dragged my hand over my face, still tired after a restless night in my too-small childhood bed. It had creaked every time I shifted, which had been a lot since the mattress springs had kept trying to pierce me.

I raised my eyes to Hannah, finding her watching me intently. Neither of us was going anywhere, so I took a long pull of my coffee, hoping it’d perform a miracle and stave off my headache.

Hannah raised her chin the same way her mother had the night before.

“You’re in pain?” she asked, seeing right through me.

“Got a headache coming on.” I absently touched the scar that disappeared into my hair.

With a sharp nod, she swiveled away from me, marched to the cabinets, then returned to the island a moment later, thrusting a bottle toward me.

“Here.”

A bottle of painkillers rested in her open palm. Something warm swept across my chest, there and gone before I could fully register it.

I took the bottle from her and shook out a couple pills, swallowing them with my coffee. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

“Thanks.” I rattled the bottle before setting it down. We’d danced around what we needed to talk about long enough. It was time to face what was going on here. “So, am I right that you work here at Graham’s house?”

“Yep.” She backed up until she could hitch her bottom on the counter behind her.

“Okay.” I palmed the crown of my head, mulling it over. “I’m not gonna rush you to get out. It’ll take a while to sell the place, so you’ll have time to find another place to work. But you’ll have to make those arrangements as soon as you can.”

Her lips pressed together as I spoke, and once I was done, she burst out laughing, full and loud. Bending in half from the force of it, she slapped her thigh and everything. I’d have thought it was hysterics from the reality of having to find a new office, but that wasn’t what this was. I didn’t know what the hell it was other than Hannah being greatly amused by something I said.

Finally, she straightened, her laughter petering out. Her cheeks were rosy, and she swiped the tears caught in her thick, sooty lashes.

“Oh, Remington,” she drawled. “You really have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, do you?”

“Thought I did.” I pressed my hand against the snakes slithering in my belly, sure I was about to hear how my dad had screwed me over one final time. “Care to explain what I got wrong?”

“You’re going to have a hard time selling this house when it’s not yours.”

A curtain fell over what I thought I knew, the reason I’d come, leaving me in the dark.

“What’d he do?” I gritted out.

Hannah smiled at me, but it wasn’t exactly cheerful. There was too much melancholy behind it for that. I could only guess she was sad over Graham’s death, which I couldn’t begin to understand. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing worth missing now that he was gone.

“He left instructions that Henry should be allowed to live in his cabin for the rest of his life or as long as he wants to stay. And this house…it isn’t yours.”

She shot me a mirthless smile, and I braced myself for the rest.

Chocolate brown eyes danced with mine. “It’s ours, Remington.”

My stomach bottomed out as my plan of getting in and getting out flipped on its head.

All I could say was, “Call me Remi.”