“I can take care of myself. Don’t need some knight in shining armor,” I say. “And you’re not getting Maple Heaven either.”
“I don’t doubt you can take care of yourself,” he says quietly. “But let’s get one thing straight. I’m not here to take anything from you. You and I aren’t related.”
The relief that rushes through me is immediate, but it leaves something else behind—something I can’t quite name. I glance out the window, trying to focus on the rows of tidy houses instead of the fact that Ledger Timberbridge is sitting next to me, not my cousin, and still the most aggravatingly attractive man I’ve ever met.
“So,” he drawls, cutting through my thoughts. “Why haven’t you taken possession of your grandfather’s company?”
I blow out a breath, dragging a hand through my hair. “My grandfather—who was a misogynistic asshole, by the way—left a clause in his will. I can’t inherit Maple Haven unless I’m married.”
Ledger stills, his head snapping toward me. “What?”
“You heard me,” I say, glaring at the dashboard like it offended me personally. “Married. Apparently, my dead grandfather thought women need a husband to validate their existence or something. So now I’m stuck scrambling for a solution while my lawyer breathes down my neck, reminding me how little time I have left.”
“And what’s the plan?” he asks, his voice lower now, careful.
I sigh, leaning back in my seat. “Not sure. I said I had someone just to buy myself some time.”
Ledger raises an eyebrow. “But you don’t.”
“Nope.” I give him a dry, humorless smile. “Remember the last time I was going to get married?”
His expression shifts, a slow smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I recall. You were in my room wet and needy, and then you ditched me.”
I groan, pressing my hand to my forehead. “You really can’t let that go, can you?”
“Not a chance,” he replies, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that makes my stomach twist. “You’re a hard woman to forget, darling. I thought I had seven perfect days with you and suddenly poof, you were gone.”
I roll my eyes, refusing to look at him. If I do, I know I’ll see the glint in his blue eyes—the one that says he’s enjoying this far too much. And I can’t let him know that, deep down, part of me might be too.
Because Ledger Timberbridge is dangerous. Not in the dark-alley kind of way, but in the way that he gets under my skin without even trying. And if I’m not careful, I might actually start to like him.
And that? That would be a disaster.
ChapterThirteen
Ledger
Malerick’s apartmentis as pristine as it is soulless—much like the man himself. It’s the kind of place that feels like a furniture showroom, as if someone walked in and said, “I’ll take everything exactly as it is.” The leather couch is spotless, the coffee table looks like it’s never seen a cup of coffee, and the walls are decorated with generic black-and-white skyline prints. Everything is clean, precise, and impersonal. Just like my brother.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think this place was staged—just a hollow setup so Malerick can pretend he lives here, when really, he’s just a ghost who left Birchwood in the dead of night. That’s his MO. Ever since he joined the Bureau, he’s been vanishing for months at a time—silent, efficient, like staying in one place might kill him.
Which makes him becoming the sheriff of this small town . . . Well, too fucking weird.
Why would a guy who despises this place with every ounce of his soul—assuming he even has one—come back to play sheriff? Birchwood must’ve collectively lost its mind.
And yet, here he is. At his desk. Sleeves rolled up, looking way too official for someone who used to duct-tape me to chairs as a kid. There’s something that doesn’t click about Galeana, my brother, and the whole inheritance. When I walked in five minutes ago with news he clearly wasn’t expecting, I could swear I saw his left eye twitch.
“She has to what?” he demanded, turning to face me, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline.
“She has to get married,” I repeated slowly, stretching the words out for maximum irritation. I dropped onto his perfect couch and immediately propped my dirty boots on the spotless coffee table because I’m petty like that. “It’s part of the inheritance clause. If Galeana doesn’t get married, she loses everything.”
Malerick scrubbed a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, and I caught a suspiciously disgruntled, “This town gets weirder every damn day.”
Since I’m bored to tears, I decide to break the silence and ask, “Can I go now? I did what you asked.”
“You didn’t do shit. There’s no groom or prospects from what I understand,” he growls, fingers flying over his keyboard with the kind of focus that makes me wonder if he’s actually investigating something—or just stress-scrolling through his social media. “I need to figure out how long she has to marry before?—”
“And you’re gonna figure that out?” I cut in, smirking. “What’s your new sheriff superpower? Meddling in people’s lives and ruining their day?”
