Page 4 of Ryder

I didn’t mean to divulge quite that much information in one breath, but I’m standing here when no one else seems to be willing to approach the newcomer who can either make or break this town.

His brows are furrowed, but he says nothing until I finish spewing my two cents, and then he gives a nod. “Duly noted. Now, if you’ll step out of the way, I’ve been driving all day. I’d like to find the house and get some of my things unpacked before the sun sets.” He motions toward the driver’s door, which I’m blocking.

I step back a few feet. “House?” I chuckle.

He lifts a brow again. “You know, the place where people sleep and eat their meals?” he taunts.

I narrow my gaze. “I’m not an idiot, but you are if you think your grandfather’s dilapidated mansion could be called a house.”

He winces. “Dilapidated? That bad?”

I shrug. “From what I’ve heard, it’s not in good repair. It’s going to need a hell of a lot of work if you actually want to live in it.”

“Wasn’t my grandfather living in it?”

“Yep.” I cross my arms and cock my hip again. This schmuck has no idea what he’s getting into. He’s probably an accountant or businessman who thinks he can swoop into town, collect his millions, and leave us high and dry.

That doesn’t quite jive with what he’s said or what I’m looking at, though. He’s wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt that’s tight enough to reveal every inch of his six-pack. And if he were a successful businessman, why would he bother to show up at the summons of a dead man?

I remind myself that no matter how much money this guy may have, his grandfather most likely left him millions more, so maybe it’s worth it for him to come to town. Maybe he took a few weeks off to see the will and collect his due.

What the entire town and I fear is that a wagon train of Wilde heirs is going to show up, take their piece of the pie, and leave the town far more destitute than it already is.

No one has any idea exactly how much Old Man Wilde was worth, but the suspicion is over a billion. That’s a lot of zeros. I’m not sure how many people were named in the will, but I suspect it was quite a few.

This new Wilde jars me out of my musing when he opens the door to his moving truck. “Are we done here? I’m exhausted. How about, if you want to yell at me some more, you come to the house tomorrow when I’m well-rested. In the meantime, if there’s a town meeting tonight where you’re supposed to give a report, you can let everyone know you did your due diligence and confronted the big bad city guy.”

I’m forced to take another step back as he grabs the oh-shit handle to swing up into the truck. With a nod in my direction, he closes the door and starts the engine, dismissing me.

What a pompous ass.

What a breathtakingly sexy, pompous ass.

Chapter3

Ryder

“This place is unbelievable,” I mumble. I’m glad Tiago arrived first thing this morning. When I found out he was coming, I called him last night to verify his ETA. Exploring this monstrosity is not something I would want to do on my own. For one thing, who would I make snide remarks to if I were alone? For another, I might get lost, and no one would ever find me.

Maybe the girl I met yesterday afternoon would eventually show up and send in a search party. I almost chuckle at the thought of her. I have done little elsebesidesthink of her since I left her standing on the curb.

She was hell on wheels. A very sexy hell on wheels. She made my cock take notice, which is very bad because she’s twenty-two. Far too young for the likes of me. She called me old man. At forty, I probably seem like an old man to her.

Her age has not kept me from picturing her in my mind over and over. The way she stood there with her arms folded under her perfect breasts. The way she wasn’t afraid to lean into me. Spar with me. She didn’t even glance away when I needled her. It was the most fun I’ve had in months. I kind of hope she takes me up on my offer to come here and talk to me. I’d like to see her again. Fuck the age difference.

“You’re not kidding,” Tiago responds, jarring me out of my musing. “How many rooms have you been in?”

I glance at him. “You think I wandered around in here on my own before you got here?” I shudder. I’m not exactly a coward, but this mansion is freaky beyond words.

When I arrived last night, I found a note from the woman who has managed this estate for thirty years. Gretchen. Luckily, she gave me instructions on which rooms she had cleaned for guests on the second floor. I claimed one and barely left it until this morning.

Tiago and I are in what I assume is a library. Gretchen arrived early this morning, even before Tiago. She’s in the kitchen. I’m grateful she’s here because she’s apparently going to prepare our meals. The last thing I want to do is go into town and wander the aisles of the grocery store, especially now that I’m more certain the citizens of Wilde are feeling rather hostile.

Tiago glances toward the door to the library and speaks in a low voice, “How old do you suppose Gretchen is?”

I shrug. “Seventy?”

She told us the mansion used to be spic and span, but in recent years, it has gone into disrepair because our grandfather became more and more miserly in his old age. He didn’t think he needed the household of staff who had been employed here in past decades. This certainly matches with what Thomas told me.

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