Page 32 of Mountain Wood

“Yeah, I guess. I have no idea why though. That shit creeps me the fuck out.” Nick crumples up his trash and puts it in the bag Grace left behind. “Come on, let’s finish up and get out of here.”

Oscar raises her head, her ears perking up, and then she runs to the door barking.

Worried something happened to Grace in the ten seconds she’s been out of my sight, I peer out the front window to find her.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Nick comes to my side and looks out the window to see what’s just put me on edge.

A new car has pulled up, parking directly behind Grace’s. And I know this fucking vehicle. It belongs to that New York asswipe who wants my property and doesn’t know how to takefuck offfor an answer.

“Who is that?” Nick asks.

“It’s the guy from New York.”

“Shit.” Nick wipes his hands off with a rag. “You want me to get the spare pipes? We can chase him out of here together. Or beat him until he gets the message that you’re not selling. I’m down for either.”

Both options sound appealing, but my concern isn’t that he’s back.

It’s that he’s talking with Grace.

The city prick closes the space between them, his mouth moving a mile a minute, and she shakes her head. Then she looks back at the cabin we’re in, but I don’t think she can really see me at this distance. The sun glare on the window hides me.

My heart is about to fall out of my fucking ass watching them talk. It’s obvious they know each other.

“I told you she was an op.” Nick’s tone is as disappointed as I feel.

Fucking hell.

Chapter 8

Grace

“What are you doing here, Grace?”

“That is none of your fucking business.” And if this man doesn’t back up, I’m going to do something I might regret later.

Bryson advances on me, fury lighting his eyes as he closes the space between us. “Don’t make this ugly.”

I have no clue what he’s talking about, but I don’t appreciate his tone. Looking over my shoulder, I wonder if Dean is watching any of this. I hope not. “Lower your tone when you talk to me, Bryson. You have neither the right sized bank account nor balls to speak to me like that.”

Even if he did, I still wouldn’t put up with it.

Bryson Clyde-Smith is a piece of shit. His whole family is, and I have no idea why my parents are friends with them. Oh wait, yes, I do. Money. Connections. Clout. Favors.

“You’re far away from home.” Bryson tilts his fat head and smirks. “And I’m guessing you’re alone.”

“How about you act like your hairline and take a couple steps back, little man.”

He sours even more. When his gaze drags down my body, my grip tightens on the to go box in my hand, and my drink in the other.

“What the fuck are you up to, Grace? I know you’re not here for a little vacay. Your precious little princess ass would never suffer a night in a dump like this. Did Jackson put you up to it?”

I clench my jaw and don’t say a word.

What is he talking about? And why is he bringing my brother into this? What the fuck is going on here?

Bryson leans in and sneers. “Tell him it’s too late. This place is alreadymine.”

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