LITMIR.BIZ

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him and his ridiculously muscular body beside her, she doubted she would need to use it. He would scare anyone away. But he stepped back as she opened the door, so whoever was outside would see only her.

      Lightbulbs flashed, blinding her, as questions bombarded her. “Are you the new owner of La Bonne Vie?”

      “What is your name?”

      “What are your plans for the place?”

      Squinting against the bursts of light and the sun shining overhead, she peered at a crowd of faces and microphones and cameras. And she understood why River had stepped away from the open door.

      Growing up as one of the notorious Coltons, he’d been hounded by paparazzi probably almost his whole life. Except for when he’d been deployed.

      Reporters had speculated where he was those ten years he’d been gone. But none had known. She wondered if even his family knew.

      “Miss, what is your name?”

      “What do you do for a living?”

      “Aren’t you afraid of owning Livia Colton’s home?”

      Her hand clenched on the pepper spray canister. She was tempted to use it. Maybe this was how River had wanted her to. But she resisted the urge.

      Instead she raised her voice and said, “You are all trespassing! Leave the estate immediately or I will call the police and report you.”

      “So you are the owner?” a male reporter persisted. But he sounded skeptical. “You have the authority to report trespassers?”

      She groaned at the man’s arrogance and chauvinism. “I have a legal right to be here,” she said. “You do not.”

      But her threat hadn’t compelled any of them to leave. They kept taking pictures and asking questions. And her head began to pound.

      She’d worried about someone being inside the house earlier. But she’d had no idea how bad it was to have them outside. Yet that didn’t seem to be enough for them. They crept closer to her and lifted their cameras to snap pictures over her head—of the interior.

      “What is the condition of the home?” one asked.

      “Is there any evidence of Livia’s crime spree left inside?”

      She pulled the door shut behind herself. “You need to leave. Now!” She reached for her purse, trying to fumble her cell phone from the inside of it. Her fingers skimmed across the bit of lace she’d picked up earlier. But she couldn’t find her phone.

      Had she dropped it somewhere? Left it on the kitchen counter?

      Nobody listened to her. They stepped closer, as if they were going to reach around her to open the door. Was River still inside? Would he help her stop them?

      She heard another vehicle pull in. Or were more of them going to just keep coming?

      A horn blared, drawing the reporters’ attention toward the big truck that had roared up the drive. “Get the hell out of here!” a deep voice boomed as Thorne Colton stepped out of the driver’s door.

      Edith breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her cousin. He rushed up toward where she stood at the front door. As he moved through the crowd, they took his photo and bombarded him with questions.

      “What are you doing here, Thorne? Do you have a relationship with the new owner?”

      “Are you going to be living on the estate again?”

      Thorne held up his big hands and waved the reporters off. “I’ve called the sheriff. He will be arriving soon to arrest anyone who is still trespassing on the property.”

      While they hadn’t listened to Edith, they seemed to believe Thorne and started moving toward their vehicles. As they walked away, Thorne snapped a couple photos with his phone. “And if anyone comes back, these pictures will be turned over to the sheriff,” he said. “So you will be arrested for illegally accessing a private property.”

      One bold reporter lingered and had the audacity to ask, “Aren’t you trespassing, too?”

      “Then I guess the sheriff will arrest me when he gets here, and we’ll be going to jail together, Jake.” His bluff was enough to send the reporter scurrying toward his network van.

      Edith didn’t relax or turn to her cousin until all the vehicles had driven off. Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Thank you!” She pulled back slightly. “And thank you for calling the sheriff!”

      “I didn’t,” he replied. “He’s worthless.”

      “Good to know...” What if there really had been an intruder in the house? If she had called for help, apparently none would have come.

      But she hadn’t had to call...because she had River.

      She’d had River. Where had he gone?

      Only Thorne had come to her rescue this time. Why?

      Her brow furrowed as she stared up at her cousin’s handsome face. His skin was lighter than hers and his eyes a pale brown. Even though they were just cousins, they looked more alike than Thorne looked like his brother River or any of his other siblings for that matter. But no matter what they looked like, all the Coltons were attractive.

      An image of River flashed into her mind again—shirtless as he’d been that morning with a couple sets of dog tags nestled against his pecs. Her face heated and she stepped back.

      “How did you know I needed help?” she asked.

      “River,” Thorne replied. And he glanced around as if expecting his brother to be there.

      Edith shrugged. “I don’t know where he went.” She hadn’t even known how he’d gotten there. When she’d arrived, the only vehicle parked outside had been hers. She hadn’t seen a horse, either—unless he’d put it inside the barn behind the house.

      She sighed as she glanced toward the other structures on the property. She would have to inspect those buildings and inventory their contents, as well. She had a big job to do. Would it be more manageable with River’s help? Or would he just prove a distraction she didn’t need?

      * * *

      Thorne hadn’t seen his cousin since his wedding and he hadn’t had much of a chance to speak to her that day. There had been so many other guests but most of all there had been his bride, looking more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. And he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but her and how much he loved her and the family they were about to start together. Maggie was already carrying his baby.

      Guilt flashed through him now, and he understood the guilt his father always felt about Edith. Just like Mac hadn’t been there for her when she’d needed him, Thorne felt like he hadn’t, either.

      “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re going to be working here?” he asked.

      “I wasn’t at liberty to say,” she replied.

      “At liberty?” He snorted, and his guilt turned to frustration. He remembered why nobody helped Edith—because just as her mother had with Mac, she never asked for it, never admitted she needed it. “You work for a real estate development firm, not the CIA. Why the hell aren’t you at liberty to say?”

      She glared at him. “I have a confidentiality agreement with my employer.”

      “That agreement says you can’t even tell anyone who you work for?”

      She nodded.

      And he cursed. “Maybe you do work for the CIA, although I can’t imagine what the hell they’d want with this place.” He turned toward the house and shook his head. “I can’t imagine what anyone wants with this place.”

      She said nothing but he wasn’t certain if that was because she wasn’t at liberty

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