“Your brother is older?”
“Yes. He turned thirty a couple of years ago. My birthday is in a few weeks.”
“Where’s your brother now?”
“Fighting fires in the west. I left him a message.”
Ren sat forward. “I probably can’t sort this out without hearing from all parties. Best case, your trust is still intact but there was some kind of mix-up at the bank. Worst case, your stepfather has some serious explaining to do. As the trustee, if he sold the property without your knowledge and it can be shown that certain transactions were not in the best interest of the trust then he violated his fiduciary duties. If he kept the money, he could be charged with embezzlement.”
Ryker made a face. Could his mother have been a part of that?
Ren went on. “If he transferred the property to your brother as a distribution and somehow convinced Flynn to sell, then the property would belong to Mia.”
“Flynn wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t love the land like I do, but he’d never sell it out from under me.”
“Your stepfather could have transferred the land to Flynn when he came of age and then had someone forge your signatures on the sale. If that were the case, your stepfather would definitely face charges—as would the forgers, and once it’s proven that the property should be yours, Mia would need to file against the forgers to get her money back.”
Ryker didn’t know why that idea bothered him so much. He was the one who got screwed here, but he didn’t want this burden to fall on Mia Zabrinski’s shoulders, either.
“What I’m most concerned about is you spending the whole winter in a tent,” Ren said. “Tell me that wasn’t your plan. The temperature got to thirty-six last night, I heard.”
Ryker shrugged. “I’d planned on sticking it out until my birthday, then start the subdivision ball rolling so next spring Flynn and I could each have our five acres. He may choose to sell his, but I want to build something permanent—a yurt or small cabin—where I can spend my summers.”
“A yurt? What’s that?”
Before Ryker could answer, a woman’s voice called from the outer office. “Ren?”
The sound made Ryker’s heart do a funny little dance to music he couldn’t hear—probably because the blood was pounding too loudly in his ears. Wow. When was the last time lust trumped common sense? He couldn’t remember.
His attraction to Mia seemed to have skipped a few steps.
Why, he wondered?
Because I’ve been a melancholy monk for too long?
Must be.
When he turned in his chair to watch her walk into the office, he realized there were different sides to Mia Zabrinski. Instead of coiled power in running shoes, he saw casual chic. A denim pencil skirt short enough to show off her very nice legs, a pair of expensive-looking taupe cowboy boots with some sort of flashy baubles around one ankle, a low-cut black tank partially visible beneath a long-sleeve white shirt. Her curls appeared finger-combed by the wind.
He stood. I like her.
Foolish as that epiphany seemed. He did.
“You got here fast,” Ren said, getting to his feet as she approached the desk.
“Cake tasting.”
Ryker had no idea what that meant, but Ren’s sigh said he understood.
She dropped her large brown leather purse into the second chair and turned toward Ryker. “Mr. Bensen.”
“Ryker. Please.”
When she looked at him this time—dressed in his best hiking pants, boots and clean wool shirt—he thought he detected a hint of respect. Had he surprised her by contacting a lawyer? Did that make him a worthy adversary instead of some vagrant lout?
“Wedding cake,” he said, when the answer to the unacknowledged question popped into his mind. “Your brother is marrying Louise’s daughter.”
The two lawyers looked at him as if he might be suffering from Asperger syndrome.
“Sorry. Living alone for months at a stretch tends to blur the line between thought bubble and talking to yourself.”
She frowned but didn’t agree or disagree with his observation. Instead, she walked to the desk where his paperwork was arranged in two neat piles. She didn’t touch anything but her chin tilted sideways so she could make a cursory scan.
Ryker’s head tilted sideways, too, even though he was too far away to see anything.
“Hmm,” she said, exchanging a look with Ren that could only be described as lawyer-ish. She pivoted and walked to where Ryker was standing. Even in boots the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. “I apologize if I came off a bit hostile this morning. Do you think we could start again?”
He appreciated people who could admit they’d behaved badly. He had a few overdue apologies of his own if he ever returned to France. He repeated the gesture he’d made a few hours earlier. “Hello, I’m Ryker Bensen. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”
She glanced at Ren before taking his hand.
Small, slender fingers with a strong, firm grip. Ryker appreciated the way she squared shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “To be clear, I’m not acknowledging the legitimacy of your claim in any way. As I told Ren, money changed hands. A lot of money. My money. I don’t know who has it, but I know it’s not in my possession anymore.”
Before Ryker could say anything, Ren moved around the desk to stand adjacent to the two of them. He touched Mia’s shoulder. Just long enough for Ryker to realize he did not like the familiarity this lawyer showed toward Mia.
Jealous? Me?
He was so distracted by the possibility he missed what the two attorneys were saying about writs and cease and desist orders.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this, Mia,” Ren said. “But it will take time.”
“Time I don’t have.”
A cold sensation knifed through Ryker’s midsection. This morning he’d thought she had the look of someone who’d been ill. Was she dying?
Oh, God, not again.
His stomach roiled…until he heard her say, “Winter will be here before we know it. If I don’t have clear title, I can’t get a foundation poured.”
Ryker sat, his knees giving out with relief.
“I know you didn’t set out to steal this land or screw Mr. Bensen out of his property, Mia, but it’s pretty clear someone sold it out from under him.”
Mia stepped to the desk. “May I?” she asked, reaching for the yellow pad Ren had been using. She quickly flipped over the first sheet and scribbled something. “I suggest you start with my ex. Here’s his contact information. Edward’s an investment specialist. He has fingers in various pies—big and small, all over the country.”
Ryker hadn’t expected her to handle the news so dispassionately. Almost fatalistically. Which seemed wrong. She didn’t strike him as the kind who gave up so easily.
He leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “I don’t know what this means for either of us, but my father used to say when the lawyers come in the door, money goes out the window.”
She turned her head so he wouldn’t see her smile. “So, where are we, Ren? I can’t build and your client…what? He gets to camp there all winter?”
Ryker pretended to shiver. “I’ve never spent a winter in Montana, but from what I’ve heard unless I can find someone to teach me how to build an igloo, I will need to rent a room or something indoors. I’ll check the bulletin board at the library.”
“Good,” Ren said, reaching out to shake his hand. Apparently, their meeting was over. “I’d prefer it if you could stick around Marietta until we get a handle on this. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
Ryker picked up his backpack, but hesitated, waiting to see if Mia was leaving, too. Maybe she’d agree to have a cup of coffee with him.
“Dumb idea, bro,” he could hear Flynn say. “She has money, connections, and a background in legal protocol. You’re opponents in a dispute, each with a lot to lose.”
But Ryker never had been much of a businessman and, dammit, the man in him wanted to get to know her better while the photographer in him was itching to see her in his viewfinder.
Before he could say anything, though, Mia said, “Ren, if you have a minute, I’d like to talk to you about something completely off-topic.”
Off topic? Really? He stuffed the empty file folder Louise had given him to protect his many photocopies into his backpack, slung his camera strap around his neck and left the room. He made use of the very nice restroom on his way past, because when you lived without running water, you never passed up a chance to wash your face and brush your teeth.
But he wasn’t leaving without talking to Mia, face-to-face. He had to know what this connection he felt with her was all about. One thing he knew for sure…it had nothing to do with the lot by the river.
*
Mia had planned to set up an appointment with Ren when she and Austen had firmed up their plans, but with Austen starting to look for rental space, she decided now was as good a time as any to break the news.
Once the door closed, she picked up her purse and sat. “I haven’t congratulated you on your marriage. I’m happy for you and Tully.”
“Thanks. We’re still giddy newlyweds.”
“And you have a baby coming, too, I hear.”