Anna
He’s going to say there’s nothing he can do.
It’s written all over his face.
While just a few minutes ago, Oliver was excited and passionate and aroused, now he seems almost regretful. He seems almost sad. For me? Is he feeling sad for me?
Because it’s hopeless, I know. I went and talked to Allen yesterday, and he made it perfectly clear there is no way around the clause.
Your father wanted you to share this land with a family, he told me. It’s for your own good. A woman of your age can’t be living on a farm by herself. She shouldn’t be burdened with the responsibility of managing this much money.
Yeah, right.
I’m not stupid.
I know Allen and Carl, my stepfather, are golf buddies. I know they talk. I know perfectly well that they’re friends and they both know if I don’t find someone to marry, Carl gets everything.
Carl has never liked me. I’m convinced he was sleeping with my mother long before my father passed away. As a teenager, I hated him. He made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t like the way he looked at either one of my parents and after my father passed away, Carl wasted no time moving in with Mom. He was living with us two months later, and I’ve always found that really, really strange. I’m not saying he was responsible for my dad’s car accident. I’m just saying the guy is a dick.
Part of me wonders if my trust fund paperwork is fake, if it’s something my mom and Carl cooked up later and had Allen add to the trust as a form of insurance, quietly guaranteeing I wouldn’t get the farm. He’ll never talk, of course. There’s no way to tell if it’s really real or fake. As far as the paperwork goes, everything looks legitimate and that’s the important thing as far as the courts are concerned.
“Can we contest it?” I ask quietly. Oliver is quiet for a long minute as he reads and rereads the page.
“Yes,” he says, but he sets the paperwork down on his desk and sighs. “But the problem is that there’s a huge court case happening in Bradshaw right now.”
“Right. The Miller Road incident.”
“Exactly.”
Two months ago, there was a hit-and-run. The car hit what he thought was a deer and kept on driving. The problem is that it wasn’t a deer at all. It was a shifter who claims he was in lion form when the car hit him and sped off. He shifted back to his human form almost immediately and almost died from the injuries he sustained. Now he’s suing the man for leaving him on the side of the road.
It’s humans against shifters in Bradshaw right now, and the whole thing is messy.
“How does that affect me being able to contest this?” I motion to the pile of papers that have way too much of an impact on my future. They have way too much of an impact on my ability to be a person, to have a future, to be able to reach my dreams.
“Everyone’s busy. We only have one judge in this town and he’s only doing routine paperwork and cases on Fridays. This means the rest of the week, he’s in court all fucking day. And getting a slot on his Friday mornings isn’t easy. It’s nearly impossible.”
“So I can contest it, but not really, because the judge won’t be able to meet with me until it’s too late?”
“Basically,” Oliver sighs and rubs his temples. “Why would your dad do this? Why would he put you in this position?”
“I don’t know,” I tell Oliver honestly. My heart falls as I realize what he means. If I don’t find someone to marry me within the next two months, I’m basically screwed.
“This says you have to get married to a shifter and stay married for 12 months. Then you’ll be able to access the trust.”
“Right.”
I’ve read the document a million times trying to figure out a way around this. I’ve met with Allen, who drafted the terms of the trust, and I’ve spent hours looking this up online.
I’m basically screwed.
“I don’t know why my dad would do this to me, either. I figure my mom was already sleeping with Carl and they figured it was a clever way to make sure I didn’t see a dime. My mom never really liked me.” Oliver gives me a sharp, disbelieving look, and I shrug. “I took care of her throughout her cancer treatments, but she resented me anyway. She always did. I don’t know why.”
“So they talked your dad into adding this clause, convincing him it was for your own benefit?”
“Either that or they faked his will and his signature. It wouldn’t be hard to do. Allen – the lawyer my dad used – is a close friend of Carl, my stepfather.”
“What a clusterfuck.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Do you have any proof?” Oliver looks up hopefully. “Recorded conversations, emails, texts? Anything that could prove the attorney and your stepfather are in cahoots?”
Now it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Cahoots?”
Oliver shrugs.
“I don’t have any proof. I don’t wear a wire when I’m talking to Carl and honestly, he rarely talked to me at all when I lived at home. I moved out for college and never looked back. When Mom got sick, I was at their place a lot to take care of her, but I never slept there. Carl made it very clear he didn’t want me there. After the funeral, we haven’t talked at all.”
“What made you decide to look at a copy of the trust? What made you decide to have a little peek?”
“Actually, Joyce and I were talking at wine club and she was the one who warned me to check the trust for myself. She said sometimes bad lawyers will write in terrible clauses that completely screw the person over. Sometimes the person signing doesn’t even realize the clause is there.”
“That could be what happened with your dad,” Oliver sighs. He sets the papers on the desk. “Do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Anyone you’re in a relationship with that would be open to speeding things up?”
“You mean is there someone I can marry immediately?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Shit.” He glares at the papers. “All right. I’m going to call in a couple of favors and see if we can get this before the judge. When’s your birthday?”
“Two months and four days.”
“Then we’d better move fast,” he says. “I’m going to be honest with you, though. If you believe in love at first sight, now’s the time to download a dating app. I’ve heard good things about Turntable.”
“You want me to find a mate on Turntable?”
“Anna, I’m going to be honest with you. If you want your daddy’s money and his land, if you want your rightful inheritance from your father, you’re going to have to start looking at this from all angles. I’m going to do everything I can to get this before a judge, but if I can’t, then your only other option is going to be to get married, and fast.”
“Right, because getting married fast is a great long-term option.”
“You can get divorced after twelve months,” he motions to the paperwork. “That much is clear.”
“There’s something you need to understand about me, Oliver.” I stand, grabbing my purse. “Marriage isn’t some game. It’s not some tool I want to use and abuse to get the things I need. If I mate someone, especially a fucking shifter, I want it to be someone I love, and I want it to be forever. No backing out.”
“I admire your tenacity.”
“Well, I was admiring your cock a little while ago,” I spit out, blushing when I say it. Why the hell am I behaving like a horny schoolgirl around Oliver? It doesn’t make any damn sense. I’ve always had a high sex drive, but I’ve kept it carefully under control. I’ll sleep with someone when I’m in love, sure, but a random stranger? A lawyer? Never.
I never sleep with strangers or people who don’t love me.
“Have you stopped? It’s the same dick it was when you first arrived.”
“Now I know better.”
“Do you?”
“You’re taking my case, right? We’re going to be working together.”
“And you can’t like the cock of someone you know?”
“That’s not the way this works.”
“It could be.”
“It’s not,” I’m breathless, tired from the banter. I need to go home and take a bath. I need to drown my sorrows with a hot, candlelit bath and a big, big glass of whiskey. Forget wine. That’s for bad days at the office. That’s not for days where you realize you’re not getting the last thing your father left you and that the one person you really, really want to sleep with is totally, completely off limits.
“Suit yourself,” Oliver says, but he doesn’t move. He’s still standing next to his desk, looking casual. He looks like this whole meeting hasn’t been a complete mind-fuck. I need to leave. I need to get out of here. Suddenly, the whole office feels hot.
“Is it hot in here?” I pull at my shirt. “It feels really hot in here. It’s autumn, you know. You shouldn’t have the heater on yet.”
“The only thing hot in here, Anna, is you,” Oliver places a hand on my waist and pulls me close. “Although, if your nipples are any indication, I’d say you’re more cold than hot.”
“What?” I glance down and sure enough, my nipples are hard. They’re poking through my shirt like bright little buds, alerting anyone who sees me that I’m horny and excited.
I’m aroused.
And I’m wet.
My pelvis is pressed against Oliver’s and his cock is hard, rubbing against my groin and stomach. If only there weren’t so many clothes between us, we could have some fun. His desk looks sturdy. I bet he could set me on there and we could really go at it, really have some fun.
“Your nipples,” he repeats. “They look cold.” Oliver reaches toward my breasts and runs a finger over one of my nipples. “They’re very hard,” he murmurs, and then his eyes meet mine.
Fire.
Passion.
Desire.
Trouble.
Doing this is a terrible, horrible idea, but I want him so badly that it hurts. I want to give myself over to him, but I never lose control. I never let myself get carried away. I never let myself get swept away by desire. That’s not who I am. That’s not who I’ve ever been.
But this is different, I argue with myself. He’s not really a stranger, not anymore. We’ve gotten to know each other a little bit. We’re both adults. We’re both looking for…nothing. We’re not interested in something serious or something that would happen again.
My week has been hard. This whole year has been hard. Losing my mother was terribly painful and I’m still not over it. The entire week has piled stress on my plate that I didn’t want, didn’t ask for.
And right now, Oliver is looking like a beautiful distraction.
He watches me carefully, waiting to see what I’ll do, and it takes me a moment to decide. Do I want to play it safe? Do I want to play the way I’ve always played? Or do I want to be bold? Do I want to be brave?
Do I want to take a risk?
Being careful didn’t save me from being orphaned. It didn’t save me from an evil stepfather who doesn’t care about anything but himself. Being careful certainly didn’t land me a husband.
Being careful hasn’t gotten me anywhere, so maybe it’s time for a change.
Maybe it’s time to be a little bit dangerous.
Maybe it’s time to let my heart get swept away, just for a little while.
Oh, it won’t be love. It won’t be sweet. There won’t be cuddling or gentle whispers after. That won’t happen. It can’t. Neither one of us needs that or wants that. Then again, I don’t know very much about Oliver, other than the fact that he’s a shapeshifting tiger lawyer and that he’s hot as hell.
I don’t know much beyond the fact that I bet he knows exactly how to make me fall apart.
I don’t know anything except that right now, he’s as horny as me, and if I let him, he could help me.
He could make me forget.
Just for a little while, he could make me forget.
I take a deep breath as his eyes pierce mine, and I decide to take a chance. I’m not going to be careful today. I’m not going to be smart or sweet. Today, I’m taking the leap, and I’m taking it with Oliver.
“I bet they’d be even harder if your tongue was on them,” I whisper.
And it’s on.