“Shut up,” he bites back, typing harder like that’ll show me. “Who the hell writes something like that into a will? Marry or lose it all?”
“Dante Doherty,” I answer with a mock solemnity. “Apparently, he thought a woman couldn’t be stable without a husband in the picture. You know, classic misogynistic control freak behavior.”
Mal snorts, the keyboard clicking beneath his fingertips. “No wonder he and Mom never saw eye to eye. Remember those town hall meetings? He nearly had a coronary every time she dared to vote on something.”
“I don’t remember the meetings, but it sounds about right.” I shrug. “Honestly? The guy sounds like an epic asshole.”
“That too,” Mal mutters.
Then, abruptly, his typing stops. His gaze sharpens on the screen, and his jaw tightens.
“What now?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter, but keeping my boots defiantly planted on his table.
His chair creaks as he swivels to face me fully. “Galeana has less than two weeks, Ledger. Two weeks to find a husband and get married, or she forfeits everything. It’ll go to the Stinsons.”
Okay, so a lot of things are beginning to make sense. “I don’t think she knows she’s running out of time. Or that Stinson’s in town to get his creepy hands on her business.”
“Run that by me again?” His tone has that dangerous edge, like he’s regrouping for war.
I shrug, all nonchalance. “As per your request, I accidentally”—I add air quotes, because why not—“ran into her at The Honey Drop this morning. Erick Stinson was there. Flirting.”
“Erick Stinson?” Mal repeats, and there’s enough disdain dripping from his voice to fill a landfill. “What the fuck is wrong with that man? She’s his cousin.”
“You tell me,” I mutter, not bothering to mention that for some reason, Galeana assumed I was her cousin trying to take her inheritance. That explains why she looked at me like I wanted to take everything she owned—I was the enemy.
Mal spins back toward the computer, his face serious. “So let’s recap. She has less than two weeks to not only find a husband but also get married. And suddenly, Erick Stinson is sniffing around Maple Haven, and you—” He stops, narrowing his eyes at me like he’s about to ruin my day. “You like her, right?”
My stomach drops. Here we go. “Where are you going with this, Mal?” I ask, though I already have a sinking feeling I know exactly where he’s going.
He steeples his fingers and tilts his head, his expression unreadable but annoyingly self-assured. “You have to marry her.”
I blink. Once. Twice. Then I bark out a laugh so loud it startles me. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Mal shrugs, unbothered, the picture of calm. “It’s logical.”
“No. It’s insane,” I snap, pushing off the couch to pace the room. My hands go straight to my hair because if I don’t do something with them, I might actually throttle him. “I’m not marrying anyone, least of all a woman who—” I cut myself off, gritting my teeth.
Who left me in Italy with no name, no number, and a bruised ego. I can’t say that. He has no idea that Galeana and I have a past. Short, but unforgettable. So unforgettable that I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind since then. I constantly think about the what-ifs and . . . damn, she really made an impression on me, didn’t she?
Now that she’s here, and I finally know her name . . . well, I have no idea what to do. I’m not one to date or pursue women—not that he needs to know any of that. So instead, I just say flatly, “Who barely knows me and hates my guts.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Mal says, rolling his eyes with all the superiority of an older brother who thinks he’s the smartest guy in every room. “If she hated you, she wouldn’t let you anywhere near her.”
“That’s your big logic? She doesn’t hate me enough?” I glare at him, incredulous. “How the fuck did they let you in the bureau if you can’t even think straight?”
Mal leans back in his chair, fighting a smirk. “It’s a business arrangement, Ledger. Sign some papers, save her inheritance, and walk away. Easy.”
“Nothing about Galeana Monroe is easy,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face.
Because Mal’s wrong. It wouldn’t just be business. Not with her. Not when she’s too damn pretty, too smart, too . . . everything I can’t shake since Italy. Her wide, hazel eyes still haunt me, all fire and mischief, like she’d dare me to do something reckless and love every second of watching me lose control. And that mouth? Don’t get me started on the things I imagined her mouth doing before she ghosted me.
And worse? Mal’s not wrong.
If Erick Stinson really is sniffing around Maple Haven, it’s not because he’s suddenly in the mood for syrup samples. He’s not here to help his family’s candy store. Nope, he’s playing dirty, and he’s not the kind of guy to flirt without an angle. Galeana doesn’t stand a chance against him on her own.
I stop pacing, my fists clenching at my sides as I stare at Mal. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs again, completely unbothered. “But you’ll do it.”
