“Hey, boy. You ready for a walk?”
His tail went faster. I chuckled and reached for his lead. “Let’s go. Have I got a story to tell you.”
* * *
Ava
I leaned against the window, my arms crossed, gazing down at the floor. Behind me, the rain beat on the glass, the cool air outside making the window chilly. I studied my feet dispassionately, unable to settle into my usual routine.
I had tossed and turned all night, replaying my encounter with Hunter. The way his mouth felt on mine. The intensity of his stare. I had never seen eyes that color before now. Gracie’s husband’s eyes were a light blue, but Hunter’s were so pale, they were almost silver at times. With the dark rim in indigo around the irises, they were startling in their beauty. Set in his rugged, handsome face, they were astounding. His mouth, his kiss had been exactly what I expected, yet not. Powerful, passionate, searing. I could feel his strength in his grip, the power of his arms, and the hardness of his body against mine. Yet underneath had been a gentleness. The way he cupped my face, how soft his lips felt on my skin, the way he whispered in my ear.
How quickly he backed away when I said no.
There had been no rancor, no anger. Instead, he teased and accepted my decision.
A huge part of me hated seeing him walk away. I swore I felt the pressure of his mouth on mine for hours afterward. I ran my fingers over my mouth. I still did.
“Ava?”
With a jerk, I stood, realizing I had been leaning on the cool glass the same way I had been pressed against the side of my car by Hunter yesterday. I blinked and cleared my throat, smiling at my brother. “Hey, Liam.”
He pushed off the doorframe, his massive shoulders filling the space. “Hey, you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
“I’ve been standing there for five minutes. You’ve been so lost in thought, you didn’t even notice.” He smirked, his hazel eyes dancing. “And I’m sort of hard to miss.”
I sat, waving off his concern. I looked down, brushing off my skirt to have a few seconds to collect my scattered thoughts.
“Is this about yesterday?”
My head snapped up. “Yesterday? How did—” I stopped and shook my head. “Oh, the clerk in the office.”
He frowned. “What did you think I meant?”
“Nothing. I was thinking about something else. I’m fine.”
He frowned and hunched forward. “You’re distracted. I know you hate shit like that.”
“I do. But I dealt with it, and I expect we’ll be back on track quickly.”
He nodded. “That’s good.”
“So, what’s up? Are you here to plant more stuff or just check on me?”
He rolled his eyes. “I had breakfast with Dad and Maddox this morning. They heard from Mr. Owens’s lawyer, and the offer has been rejected.”
I felt a frisson of sadness in my chest. Mr. Owens owned the last piece of property connected to the BAM compound here in Port Albany. We had lived here all my life, and now our head office had recently moved here as well. They had tried unsuccessfully to purchase it while Mr. Owens was alive, but he rejected every offer. When he passed away in December, the house was closed up, and no one had appeared to move in. BAM had contacted the lawyer with a generous offer to purchase the land.
Despite his gruffness, I had liked Mr. Owens. I was one of the few people he allowed on his property, and I checked on him often. He had a stroke last year but recovered, though he had gotten frailer as the months went on. He refused to leave his house, and unbeknownst to him, BAM had paid for extra staff to care for him. He thought it was covered under the health care system, and I never dissuaded him. I had a feeling he would refuse the help because of who it came from. He disliked most people, it seemed, and especially the BAM boys, thinking they only wanted his property and nothing more.
But everyone remembered him from when we were kids and his wife, Gail, was still alive. He had been friendly and kind. My grandparents recalled a daughter but had no idea where she had disappeared to. Being the men they were, BAM made sure he was looked after. I would spend some time with him when he allowed, but I was never invited inside. I sat on the porch with him, and he would talk about Gail, the sunset, the water that we could watch from his porch, or whatever he felt like discussing. My family was off the table. No BAM talk. Nothing personal, aside from his wife and how he missed her.
I was sad when he passed, but I knew he would be happy to be back with “his Gail,” as he called her. As per his instructions, there was no funeral, and he was cremated.