Page 76 of Some Like It Hott

I tell him the situation. “All the stuff for tomorrow’s festival is stored in the stables. If someone got in, they could—they could totally mess us up.”

“Did you make sure it’s all okay?”

I dig my keys out, keeping him on the line, and check, but it’s all there, and intact, and I heave a big sigh of relief.

“Do you think it’s related to the other sabotage? What happened with Hott Spot and the flood, and what happened with Tobuary’s wedding?” I ask him.

“We don’t know either of those things was sabotage.”

“True, but—it’s a lot of coincidence. And then for someone to show up tonight…?”

“You want me to come out there and keep an eye until tomorrow morning?”

“You’d do that?”

I don’t mean for there to be so much surprise in my voice. I was there for Quinn when things went to shit. All of us were. And all of us were there for Shane when he was facing down the cancellation of the wedding that would fulfill his letter from our grandfather. Still, somehow it feels different when it’s me. It feels…nice.

“’Course I would,” he says offhandedly. “Hold tight. I’ll be there in a few.”

39

Natalie

Festival day dawns bright but not too hot—perfect summer weather. All the Rush Creek–based Hotts and their spouses, fiancées, and friends show up to help us with setup, and it’s done in a flash. Soon Preston and I are seated in our booth, waiting for the festival to officially start.

“Did I dream it, or did you go for a walk in the middle of the night last night?” I ask Preston.

“You didn’t dream it.”

“What?” I ask because there’s a weird expression on his face.

“Nothing much,” he says. “I surprised what might have been an intruder, messing around near the stables. Tuck came and kept an eye, so there’s no way they could have gotten into our stuff, but—it’s weird. It’s not the first time something strange like that has happened.”

He tells me two wild stories—one about Quinn and a flood, and one about Shane and a wedding…and I have to admit, it doesn’t sound like coincidence. Three brothers, three wacky will assignments, and three incidents where they almost couldn’t fulfill their obligations because something happened at the last minute.

Well, in our case, nothing happened, but only because Preston was in the right place at the right time.

“So you think it could be…sabotage?”

“I think it’s possible,” he says. “When the wedding disaster happened with Shane, we thought it might be Arthur Weggers, our grandfather’s attorney. He’s been a thorn in all of our sides. But I don’t see what he’d have to gain from undermining us.”

“Who does have something to gain?”

“Blue Iron Mining,” Preston says grimly. “The company that gets the land if we don’t comply with the will.”

“Jesus. That’s effed up.”

“I’m going to have Tucker do a little…investigating. Oh,” he says, shoulders squaring. “And speak of the devil. Not that devil. The other devil. Hi, Arthur.”

“Hello, Preston,” says a small bald elderly man. “Excellent job you’ve done with all this.”

“I had a lot of help,” Preston says. “Arthur, this is Natalie Archer. She’ll be running the programming after I go back to New York, and she’s helped me develop it.”

Weggers considers that for a moment, frowning. Then he gives a slight nod. “That wasn’t against the rules,” he says. “Hello, Natalie.”

“Nat, this is Arthur Weggers. Esquire.”

Preston says this last with a mock gravitas that makes me want to giggle.

---