I pushed open the office door, the cool, early evening breeze a calming balm. Maybe I’d sit out on my porch after I took a bath. I was fumbling in my purse for my keys as I walked, not paying attention, so when I looked up just feet from my car, I startled.

Grant leaned against the hood, all Brooks Brothers business casual and overly coiffed hair. “Kenna.”

A muscle in my cheek ticked. I didn’t have the time or energy for this. “What do you want?”

He stood, holding up both hands in surrender. “Just to talk. We got off on the wrong foot.”

“The wrong foot?” I sounded like a parrot, but I couldn’t help it. The wrong foot was the understatement of the century.

“Yes. I admit I made some missteps when I was younger. I hurt you, and for that, I’m sorry. Can we start fresh? Let me take you to dinner.”

I watched in fascination as Grant’s face made all the right expressions, yet none of them rang true. He was simply an actor trying to play a part.

“I have no interest in going to dinner with you.”

His eyes hardened a fraction. “We need to talk. My parents returned to Seattle today, and my father left me in charge of the matter.”

“The matter?”

“Remedying this whole will and inheritance situation.” Grant waved his hand like a prince greeting his subjects. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

I took a deep, steadying breath, trying my best to keep my temper in check. “I have no interest in helping you with that.”

Grant’s gaze narrowed on my face. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d become so heartless. The Gables is important to my father. And if I get it for him, he’ll make me partner at the firm. You know that’s always been my dream. Even if things didn’t work out between us, I’d think you’d still care about me. Don’t you?”

My jaw fell open. I couldn’t help it. But really, I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d let Grant get away with everything when we were together. I would’ve given up anything if it meant his happiness. “I stopped caring about you the moment you said losing my child, and almost dying, served me right.”

Grant’s face reddened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re obviously just overly emotional about something that has nothing to do with me—”

“Get off my car, or I’ll call the sheriff and report you for stalking.” I was done with Grant and all of his lies and manipulations.

His shoulders straightened, chin jutting out. “I’m trying to be a mature adult.”

I snorted. “Trying, being the operative word. Your chances of being a mature adult are about as good as mine are to pilot a crew to Mars.”