I clutch the letter from my grandfather in my fist. The paper is soft and wrinkled from years of being handled. I know every word in it by heart. Every single fucking syllable is burned into my brain like a cancer. But the last line is the worst. It’s the one that haunts me. It taunts me every morning when I look in the mirror. It’s the line of text that hangs over me like a fucking time bomb, waiting to explode and tear everything in my life to pieces.

I leave my shop and property to Reid William Riggins under the condition that he is married with children by the time he is thirty-five years of age.

There it is in plain black ink. Children and a wife. I have one child and no wife. So that puts me in a very shitty place--one child, one ex-wife, and no prospects of that changing anytime soon. My grandfather went and threw me the shittiest curveball he could with his will. I shouldn’t even be surprised. My younger brother practically exiled himself from the family after college, and my grandfather was obsessed with the idea of the Riggins family name carrying on to a new generation. I’m thirty-three years old now, which doesn’t leave me much more time to satisfy the conditions. Either I marry someone and knock them up this year, or I lose my shop. I lose my house. Everything.

I shove the letter back in the drawer and slam it shut.

Tyler sticks his head in the small office at the back of my shop. “‘Ey, Reid. You’ll want to see this.”

I’m not in the mood for Tyler’s bullshit right now, but if I stay in this office any longer, I’ll just keep getting more pissed. I push out of my chair and cross the distance toward him in two long strides. The shop isn’t much, but it’s mine. For now. I’ve run the place since grandpa died six years ago. We have two bays for cars, one of which I built myself on the weekends. It took close to a year, but it’s good, solid work. Everything is to code and sturdy.

When I see my little guy kneeling to watch Garry work on an old Acura’s brake lines, the hot anger in me cools a little. Roman is the only good thing that came out of the two years I spent married to Tara. His brown hair is a tangled mess of brown and he has a thick streak of black on his cheek. I smirk, spitting on a rag then cupping his cheek to clean the grease from his cheek. He scrunches his face and tries to escape, but I manage to get the spot before he can slip away.

“You learning about brakes, bud?”

Roman is turning five next month, but he probably knows more about cars than most adults already.

“Yep!” he says cheerily.

I ruffle his hair and move to follow Tyler. As soon as Roman is out of my sight, the heat of my anger rises up again. I see what Tyler was calling me out of the office to see now. The shop sits directly in front of my house. The house next door has been abandoned for years, but there’s a moving truck parked outside in the shade of two big oaks. I tuck the rag in my jeans and cross my arms. I have to squint against the sun to see, but there are three guys from the moving company bringing box after box inside while a woman with long legs and short shorts follows them around, fussing over everything they move.

I take a few steps closer, eyebrows drawing down in frustration and confusion when I realize I recognize her. “Is that fucking Sandra Williams?” I ask.

Tyler spits between his teeth, nodding. “Sure is. Ain't she like, best friends with your ex?”

There’s a bad taste in my mouth as I answer. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“So your wife’s best friend is going to live next door. What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna set this shit straight. Keep an eye on Roman. This won’t take long.”

Tyler nods, walking back toward the shop.

I realize I’m not wearing a shirt when I’ve already crossed half the distance to her house. Fuck it though, I’m too pissed to go back and put one on. Besides, the shirt I had on is covered in oil. I don’t bother thinking about what I’m going to say. The message is simple. She’s going to keep her fucking distance and I’m going to keep mine, or we’ll have a problem. The last thing I need is a reminder of Tara and the crap she pulled living next door, let alone some rich daddy’s girl like Sandra Williams.

She looks up when I’m only a few steps away.

“Reid…” she says slowly. Her tone says it all. It’s a placating tone, like she has been planning what she would say to try to calm me down. She knew exactly who lived next door when she decided to move here. How could she not? She’s been best friends with Tara since long before I even met Tara. She’s also the one Tara moved in with after the divorce. Her old place was just a few miles away on the other end of town.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand.

She crosses her arms, eyes flashing with anger. I can’t help noticing how the motion pushes her full tits up. I never paid much attention to her before because I could write a book on the reasons she’s wrong for me, hell, I could write a few books. I don’t need books to tell me why I should keep my distance from Sandra. Two words are good enough. Off limits. Simple as that.

“I’m moving into my house. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” I say. I half-turn, pointing to my house and shop that are less than fifty yards away. “Your business just came and took a huge shit all over my business.”

The anger in her eyes falters briefly when they flick down to my bare chest and stomach. She sucks in a sharp breath and looks away and then back once more. “Can you put a shirt on or something?”

“Sure. As soon as you pack your shit up and leave, I’ll put a shirt on. ‘Til then, I’ll walk around butt ass fucking naked if I want to.”

“Look, Reid. I don’t want trouble. It was time for me to get my own place. Tara and...“ she winces, like she was about to say something she shouldn’t have.

“Tara and what?” I ask. Stepping close and lowering my voice dangerously.

“Forget it. It’s not my place to tell you.”

Tara and...? I could give two shits about what she does or who she fucks. The only thing I care about is that she still gets Roman on the weekends. If she’s seeing somebody, I need to know he’s safe to be around my son.

I clench my fists. She’s not going to pack up and move just because I told her to. I knew as much. The point is that she gets the message to stay out of my business. “Keep your fucking distance and we’ll get along fine.”

She sighs, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t think that will be a problem, Reid. Can I get back to moving in now?”

I scoff. “Yeah. You do that.”

I storm back into the garage and have to tamp down the urge to break something. I won’t lose control while Roman is watching, though. If there’s one thing I can do for him, it’s teach him to be a better man than I am. I may fuck everything else up in my life, but I won’t fuck that up. Not a chance. My son deserves better.

I think back to the defiant way Sandra talked to me. Even though I only want to be pissed at her, I can’t help also remembering how good she looks. Women with a little fire always tempt me. Maybe it’s the challenge. I don’t pretend to understand it. All I know is I need to lose that thought, and fast. Tara and I are history. And the truth is I only stayed with her because of Roman. To say he was unplanned is putting it mildly. A condom must’ve broken and we didn’t realize. Once I knew she was pregnant, I sucked up my pride and did the right thing. I planned to stay with her and give him the family he deserves. I was willing to put up with her shit if it meant we could give him a good life, but she had other plans.

Even so, making a move on her best friend would be dirty and low. Sandra’s not my type, anyway. I’m not interested. Sandra’s parents are old school blue bloods, and she probably gets the world handed to her on a golden spoon studded with diamonds. I don’t have time or energy to deal with a pampered woman who thinks the world should bend to her will.

Fuck that, and fuck her.