Page 52 of Into the Lion's Den (Secrets of the Northland Shifters)

“I’m not sure if I’m allowed to discuss the details outside of the family.”

“Is Reese in his office?”

“You don’t know?” Sam asked, scrunching his forehead. “You had to walk right by there on your way to the cafeteria.”

“We keep our doors closed most of the time these days.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” He leaned back and gave me a good long perusal. “Did you two have a spat?”

I gave him the side-eye.

“Or…did you kick him around for being a dick?” He sounded genuinely hopeful, but in a teasing sort of way.

“What makes you think your brother deserves to be kicked?” I knew it wasn’t entirely Reese’s fault what happened in the kitchen. Out of the two of us, I’d been the bigger idiot.

“Please,” he scoffed. “I know Reese.”

That made me smile. “So what’s on your agenda for the day?”

“Getting the camping gear sorted for the trail riders.”

“Are you going on the ride too?” I asked.

“No. Angel and Reese are. It’s an overnight camping trip, and I’ve got a meeting with the roofer first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Something wrong with the roof?”

“Not sure,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug. “I thought we were developing a leak in the dining room, but I couldn’t find the source on my own, so I’m calling in the big guns.” He pushed back his chair and stood.

“I hope nothing’s wrong.” The dining room needed to be in tip-top shape for the Maddox party. “A new roof sounds expensive.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not as big a deal as that. All right. I better get to work.”

“Me too. See you later.”

I spooned honey into my cup, refilled it with hot water, then plopped in two tea bags. As I returned to my office, I hesitated outside Reese’s door. Maybe it was time to clear the air, especially if Sam hadn’t been the only one to notice the tension between us.

Besides, I was curious about the settlement. The worst he could say was that it was family business and none of mine.

I knocked softly.

“Come in.”

I stepped inside and Reese straightened in his chair. His baseball hat was on backward again. His body was—as always—imposing, with his sleeves pushed up and his muscular forearms resting atop his desk.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Sarah.” One of his hands curled loosely into a fist. “What is it?”

I drew in a breath at his flat tone. His face was a mask of indifference that left me feeling cold.

“Sam said you reached a settlement with that Paul Swenson guy from the ropes course.”

“Eighteen thousand, five hundred.”

My body did a mini-lurch. I didn’t know if I was more surprised by the amount, or by the fact Reese told me straight out like that. “That much for scrapes on his leg?”

“And supposedly soft tissue damages, emotional distress…”

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