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I ended the call, dropped my phone on the counter. I put my hands on the edge, leaned against it. Breathed. I tried not to get riled up when she called, but it was impossible not to. She was my mother and that wasn’t going to change. She was a money-grubbing schemer.

Since Aiden Steele had never put a ring on it, she’d found a different rich landowner here in Barlow to bag instead. Husband number one. My half-brother, Karl, was the product of the marriage to husband number two, a lumber baron—that was what my mother had called him—from Seattle. That hadn’t lasted long, only one summer—and long enough for her to get knocked up and get the quickie divorce. Aiden Steele had forced my mother’s hand, making her come back to Barlow. No Barlow, no child support, which led me to believe he’d been somehow protecting me, at least keeping me nearby where he could keep an eye on me. While she’d never told me the amount, I’d always assumed it was large enough for her to force her stay in a small Montana town. And since she’d just validated in yet another phone call that I’d been worth keeping around for the monthly sum, it’d had to be pretty hefty.

Until it stopped when I turned eighteen. Thus, her new life in California where it never snowed. Since Karl had been only fourteen at the time, and was just like my mother—we’d never gotten along and I’d been thrilled to see him leave along with her—he’d learned from the expert to work his way through rich girlfriends to get by once he’d graduated high school. No college for him. Why would he do that when his career goals were to fuck and marry his way from one woman to the next to retirement?

As for Aiden Steele, he’d never publicly accepted me as his, but I didn’t really care. My mother has always painted him a villain, but I figured while he might have been fooled for one wild night, he’d learned her true ways quick enough. Maybe I should have approached him and asked to live with him, but I figured if he had wanted me, he would have fought for me more.

No one knew I was his daughter. Aiden Steele hadn’t shared it. My mother certainly hadn’t. She wouldn’t want to be considered a slut for having a child out of wedlock, especially back in the day. I rolled my eyes at the thought. I knew what everyone thought of her. A gold digger. Telling everyone my father was Aiden Steele wouldn’t have changed anyone’s opinions.

But now everything had changed. He was dead and he’d made me one of his heirs. My lawyer had died, but his son, Riley, had taken over. He’d notified me of Aiden Steele’s death—not that I hadn’t heard of it through the town grapevine by then—and told me of the will. Of the money and land I’d inherited.

But I’d made him keep the inheritance a secret, just like the college money. No one knew I was a Steele heiress and I hadn’t touched a dime of the money. No one knew I was rich. Not my girlfriends, not even Wilder and King. If my mother got wind of it…

I slammed the fridge door closed, grabbed my phone. I was marrying Wilder and King tomorrow and I’d tell them about my father, about the inheritance before I did so, but I had to talk to my lawyer first.

“Riley, hey, it’s Sarah Gandry. I’m sorry for calling on a Sunday, but can we meet? I have some news.”

7

WILDER

* * *

“Princess, where are you?” I asked, leaning against the railing of Sarah’s front porch. I could hear the tinge of panic in my words, but since she answered her cell, I knew she wasn’t dead.

“On my way home now,” she said, her voice clear through the phone. “Why?”

“Your car’s in the driveway. We thought you were on the floor and injured or something.”

“I got picked up.” She paused. “You’re at my house? Did I miss that you were coming over?”

While we’d made no plans today, I could barely get any of the paperwork I’d pushed off on Friday finished. I hadn’t expected to run into Sarah and have my entire world change while I’d been away. Not that I minded. Fuck, no. My dick was hard just thinking about what we’d done. How she’d responded. How she’d come. Again and again.

My mouth watered just remembering her sweet taste.

I’d half-assed my reports to get them finished, then texted King. He’d been right there with me, ready to see our girl again instead of waiting until morning. So when we pulled up to her house expecting her to be home, we’d both panicked. Her car was in the driveway and she wasn’t answering her door. We’d rung the bell twice, even pounded. Nothing.

King had gone around the back, peeked into the back windows as I did the front. Nothing. She was a good girl and had most of her blinds closed—no fucker should be snooping about like we were—and everything was locked up tight. But that hadn’t eased our minds. I’d envisioned her sprawled in her tub with a head injury or bleeding to death from a knife slice in the kitchen. Carbon monoxide. Spider bite. Every fucking possibility that could befall our girl.

Instead, I took a deep breath, turned rational and called her. I could’ve texted, but I wanted to hear her voice. To know someone hadn’t kidnapped her and was texting for her. Yeah, I was fucking losing it.

“No, we hadn’t made plans, but King and I have something for you and we decided to drop by.”

“Oh, great.” She sounded pleased. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She hung up and I looked to King. He’d heard it all since I put it on speaker.

It was cold as fuck, even with the sun out. The snow sparkled and I pushed my sunglasses up my nose.

“We’re going to have to get ourselves in check,” King said, pacing on her front porch. I rubbed my hands together to warm them.

“No kidding. We’re going to have to keep from panicking every time she leaves the house.”

“Or our sight,” he added.

I smiled. “Then we’ll just have to keep her in bed, won’t we?”

He grinned back. “Naked.”

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