Wildflower (Colors #4) (31 page)

I had nothing in return, so I just said, “Watch your mouth or I’m gonna tell your sister.”

I got another shrug.
Christ, kids and their shrugging
. “Hell, if it gets you to talk to her, I’ll fuckin’ cuss up a storm. No shit.”

“All right, all right. I got it. Now get outta here.”

With a chuckle, he pushed open the door and disappeared, leaving me alone to contemplate everything he’d just said.

That kid’s too damn smart for his own good
, I thought, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride in Harlow for bringing Ethan back to the boy he used to be.

By the time I went back to my workout, I had a brand new set of issues weighing heavily on my mind.

I’d just pulled dinner from the oven when I heard the front door open and close.

“Hey,” I called out. “You’re home late.”

“Yeah,” Ethan replied as he stepped into the kitchen. “Stayed after to workout with the team. Uh, what are you doing?” he asked with a worried expression.

“What’s it look like? I’m making dinner?”

Spinning on his heels he headed out of the room. “I’m goin’ out for pizza! I’ll pick you up a slice. Be back in a bit.”

“Hey!” I shouted after him. “Get your ass back in here. It’s a premade casserole Chloe brought over earlier. She even set the oven and everything. You’re safe, you little jerk.” I tried to sound offended, but the smile on my face gave me away as he came back. I was still heartsick over Noah, but the fact that Ethan and I had been having a good week with each other took the sting out of it just a little bit. I didn’t have to fake being happy when he was around. My little brother was all I needed to help me get by.

“Set the table, will you? We’re going to try this new thing called
eating as a family
. I think it’s French or something. Figured we’d give it a shot, see if it sticks.”

“Okay, smartass,” he chuckled.

“Watch the mouth!” I scolded as he pulled plates from the cabinet and got to work. Just as I was about ready to sit, my cell rang from inside my purse. My stomach fluttered with a million butterflies as hope swelled in my chest. I didn’t want to be obvious that I hoped it was Noah, but I was pretty sure the mad dash I took toward the foyer blew my cover straight to hell.

That hope was extinguished when the name on the screen showed a number I’d been actively avoiding for weeks. With a sigh, I connected the call and held the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Yes, Harlow Prewitt?”

“Yes it is.”

“Mrs. Prewitt, George Lawson. I’m glad I caught you. We really need to sit down to finalize your grandmother’s estate soon. It’s been weeks.”

My shoulders slumped at the thought of meeting with Mr. Lawson. After everything that had been going on in my life, the last thing I wanted to do was
finalize
my grandmother’s estate. It wasn’t rational, but it felt like holding out on this one last thing was a way of holding on to her.

“Look, Mr. Lawson, now’s not really a good time—”

“I understand you’re busy,” he interrupted, “But it’s quite important we get this taken care of as soon as possible. Would three pm tomorrow afternoon work for you?”

Honestly, I had no valid excuse to hold the process up any longer, so I finally relented. “Uh, yeah… I mean yes, sure.”

“Wonderful! So will tomorrow at three work for you?”

“All right. I’ll be there, Mr. Lawson.”

“Fantastic. See you then, Mrs. Prewitt.”

“It’s Ms.,” I called into the phone before he was able to hang up.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s Ms. You called me Mrs. I’m not a Mrs.”

Mr. Lawson remained quiet for a beat. “Oh, well, yes. Thank you. See you tomorrow.” Then he hung up.

I pulled the phone from my ear and scowled down at it. “Well that was weird.”

“What was weird?” Ethan asked, coming up behind me.

“Oh, nothing. Just Grammy’s attorney calling to set up a time to go over her estate. He seemed a little strange.”

Ethan, clearly having no desire to delve into the semantics of the adult world, shrugged and headed back into the kitchen. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Just another night in the Prewitt household.

“Hello,” I asked, cradling my phone between my shoulder and ear as I muted the TV.

“Yes, Mr. Murphy?”

“You got me,” I answered the unfamiliar man on the other line.

“Good evening sir. My name is George Lawson. I was Lucille Prewitt’s attorney. I’m calling because there are a few matters with her estate that need to be discussed and would like to see if you were available to come into the office tomorrow at three o’clock.”

I pulled the phone away from my ear and studied the number before bringing it back and telling the man, “Uh, I think you got a couple of your lines crossed, George. There shouldn’t be anything about Lucille’s estate you need to discuss with me. You should try her granddaughter, Harlow Prewitt.”

“Oh, yes, sir. I just got off the phone with Mrs. Prewitt—”

“Ms.” I interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

“Ms. Harlow’s a Ms. Not a Mrs.”

“Yes, of course,” he responded noncommittally. “Anyhow, I’ve already spoken with
Ms.
Prewitt and she assured me she’ll be here tomorrow at three.”

“Great, then you’re all set. Have a good night.”

My thumb hovered over the end button as the other man sputtered loudly. “But sir, you’re mentioned in the will as well.”

I brought the phone back to my ear. “Uh, what? Why?”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling to schedule a meeting. So we can go over that.”

Curiosity needled at me as I thought about what Lucille could possibly have willed to me. “You said three, right?”

“Yes, sir. Three o’clock.”

“I’ll be there.” I hung up without giving the guy a chance to say anything else. I loved Lucille. We even managed to maintain a friendship after Harlow took off for New York. But I knew the woman, and she was always up to something.

There was no telling what she’d gotten into before she passed, and I had to admit, I was a little leery about finding out.

As I stepped out of Grammy’s beater truck—a truck that I had no choice but to trade-in before the baby came, I saw a familiar SUV pulling into the parking lot. I stood frozen in place as Noah parked and climbed out, looking unbelievably sexy in a pair of faded jeans and dusty old work boots. I couldn’t see his shirt through his thick winter coat, but I was sure, whatever it was, it looked good. He
always
looked good.

“Hi,” he spoke as he met me on the sidewalk, pulling me out of my lustful daze.

“Hey,” I offered with a shaky grin.

“So… you ready?”

My head cocked in confusion as I regarded him. “Ready to go in.” He pointed to the door leading into the office of Lawson and McMillan, Attorneys at Law.

“Wait, what?”

Noah stuffed his hands in his pocket and rocked back on his heels. “That Lawson guy called me last night. Apparently Lucille mentioned me in her will so he asked that I come down. I hope that’s okay.”

I shook bewilderment at the sight of his adorably anxious expression. “Oh! Yeah, sure. Totally okay. No problem at all.”

Noah’s lip twitched with humor at my rambling and nostalgia flooded through me. God, I missed that lip twitch. And his smirk, full smile, and his chuckle, and his hearty laugh. I missed
everything
.

“Okay, then. Shall we?” He waved his hand, letting me step in front of him and take the lead out of the cold and into the nicely heated building. Noah was there for the reading of my grandmother’s will. What could she possibly have left him? It wasn’t like she had all that much to begin with. As we sat in the reception area and waited for George Lawson, I couldn’t help but think that my afternoon was starting off strange.

I couldn’t have possibly guessed that in just a matter of minutes, it was going to get even stranger.