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“Do either of you know what that means?”
Wes looked nearly as confused as I felt. I mean, on some level it made sense—it was my childhood home. But why was it registered to the club? I dug deep for the ability to appear smug, but it didn’t come, even as I watched Wesley’s Adam’s apple bob and his square jaw tense. This was obviously not the news he was expecting.
“That’s the clubhouse. You’re sure you didn’t mix up the paperwork? It would have made more sense that he left that to me, or someone who could continue his legacy…it doesn’t make sense he’d leave it to Callie.”
Okay, that fucking hurt.
I was my father’s legacy, and the only reason he wouldn’t have left it to me was because he chose his club over me. Also, I hated how Wes saying my name sent butterflies erupting in my chest. Scratch that, they were moths. After all this time, the dust was being kicked up, so they were absolutely moths.
Earl went back through the papers but shook his head.
“I verified all of this myself, ensuring Simon knew exactly what he was doing. Maybe the letter Callie has will explain things better.”
Our eyes all landed on the letter in question. I leaned forward to snag it before Wes got any ideas.
“Well, that’s it. Wes, you’ve got what you need. There’s bank passwords in here and a list of assets. Callie, within the next few weeks the title of the property will be signed over with new paperwork showing your name as the owner.”
Wes leaned forward, leveling Earl with a severe glare.
“People live in that club. They have a right to stay there. What do I need to file to stop her from selling it out from under us?”
Earl looked over at me for help, as if I would assure them that I would never kick anyone out of their home.
I had no idea what I would do, but the idea of owning something that would just be mine was so appealing, I might just kick whoever was there out to get it. When I didn’t say anything, Earl let out a long sigh.
“By the time she gets the title, and the house were to actually go up for sale, that would have been sufficient time for whoever is there to find a new place to go. Even if it wasn’t, all she would have to do is give them ninety days with a certified letter to make it official. It would be futile fighting her over the sale of the home. You’d be better off just coming up with an offer yourself to buy it from her.”
I saw Wes’s jaw do that nerve-jumpy thing.
He was pissed by this news, and it thrilled me to no end that the man who once confessed to pitying me now required a little pity himself. He likely knew there was no way I’d sell to him, even if he offered me triple the worth.
I stood and held out my hand to Earl.
“Thank you for your time. What do you need me to sign? I need to get back to DC.”
Earl handed me a file, and while Wes argued with him to find some way to work around this, I began to sign on all the tabs.
Once I was finished, he handed me an envelope with a pair of golden keys inside. Dad must have left them when he left the letter. My heart swelled with emotion. My father was a distant and emotionally negligent jerk, but he was a generous one. He’d left me his most prized possession, and I had no idea why he’d do that when there was a possibility I’d just burn it to the ground then parcel off the property and buy myself a place in DC.
I pushed through the glass door with the grace of a bull in a china shop and quickly scaled the three concrete steps outside of Earl’s office. I was rounding the hood of my car when Wes barreled through the exit, his caramel eyes scanning the parking lot. His gaze went to his bike first, then swung over to me.
Did he think I would have done something to his precious motorcycle?
Maybe I should have.
With the key fob tucked away in my purse, I gave him a sugar-sweet smile and pressed my thumb to the door handle, expecting the lock to slide up just like it always did for keyless entry. Nothing happened.
I lowered my gaze to the handle under my touch and pressed my thumb again, and nothing. Panic squeezed my chest as I began rifling through my purse.
Wes didn’t waste a second. His long legs ate up the space between Earl’s office and my car. I glanced up and saw that his face was a fuming mass of hard lines and furious edges.
“Wes. Don’t,” I warned, my hand still buried in my purse, my other clutching the letter.
But he was already in front of me. His tall stature nearly swallowed me up, his broad chest and strong hands were all I could see as he closed in. Then his right hand went to my clenched fist, and I had to withhold a gasp as his fingers tugged at mine to pry them open.
I wasn’t prepared for the contact.
His warmth, his scent…his touch. I hadn’t even realized I closed my eyes until his rough voice scraped against the shell of my ear.
