“True enough.” I sat up and stretched, the sun’s rays making me squint. “Another sunny day.”
“Good old Colorado.” She rose from the bed. “I’m going to take a quick shower. And don’t you dare come in and join me, or we’ll never get moving.”
My cock twitched as I thought of making love to her in the shower, but she was right. We both had stuff to do. I quickly texted Joe to see if he wanted to go back to the cabin or if he wanted me in the office this morning. Then I wrapped a robe around myself and went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
The manila folders we’d uncovered yesterday afternoon lay on the kitchen table. I hadn’t opened them yet. I let my fingers hover over one for a moment while the coffee brewed. Why was I so hesitant? The other files hadn’t yielded anything too scary. Farm equipment, yes, but so far we hadn’t found anything buried near the cabin. We’d hardly exhausted the area, though.
I peeled one edge of the folder back—
“Coffee. Excellent.” Marjorie walked into the kitchen wearing one of my shirts, her hair wet and her nipples protruding.
My cock responded, of course.
Though the pot was only half full, she poured herself a cup and sat next to me. “What are you looking at?”
“Some more files Joe and I found under the floorboards in the bedroom at the cabin.”
“Oh?”
I nodded. “I haven’t opened them yet.”
“Why not?”
“No reason.” I opened the first folder.
And my heart dropped into my stomach.
Three words stood out from the rest, as if they were pulsing in time with my heart.
Henry Thomas Simpson.
Henry Thomas Simpson.
Henry Thomas Simpson.
This document concerned my son.
Marjorie stroked my hand. “Bryce?”
I jolted back to reality. This was a contract. A fucking contract.
Tom Simpson had paid off Henry’s mother to relinquish her parental rights.
My fucked-up father had bought my son.
Chapter Forty-Four
Marjorie
Bryce went pale.
“What is it?”
He said nothing, just scanned the document, his eyes moving rapidly.
“Babe?”
“I can’t believe this,” he said.