She’d been off for the rest of the afternoon as she helped Will and me haul furniture out of the space and into the yard for the movers to pick up. And Will had given me a dirty look or two. This morning, I’d made a call to Second Chances and asked Bell Kipton if she’d like to take a look at the pieces before they went to Goodwill. She’d jumped at the chance. The movers were going to let her peek around the truck before they returned to the farmhouse for a second load.

I wasn’t sure if Bell would tell Caelyn about my call. Who was I kidding? I hoped like hell she did. That maybe if she did, everything would return to normal, and I wouldn’t lose this breath of fresh air I’d found.

I threw the next piece of broken furniture with a little more force than necessary. I didn’t need to be thinking about how some woman made me breathe easier. The last time I’d gotten lost in how a woman brightened my world, it had ended in disaster and my secrets being laid bare. And so much worse. I needed to focus on restoring the farmhouse and nothing else.

The sound of tires crunching gravel came from the front of the house. It wasn’t heavy enough to be the truck returning. I muttered a curse and headed towards the driveway. I’d left the gate open for the movers to return, thinking it was rare for anyone to head up the private drive. I should’ve known better.

I strode around the house and took in a sedan coming to a stop in front of the farmhouse. I scanned the plates. Washington, but with a car rental company frame. My eyes narrowed as a woman climbed out of the vehicle.

“You’re on private property. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

The woman had light brown hair that was curled in waves that framed her face. Her smile was practiced, fake. “The gate was open.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “That doesn’t change the No Trespassing sign or the fact that you’re not welcome here.”

“You don’t even know who I am. Maybe I could be welcome.”

The sliminess to her words and expressions meant I knew exactly who she was. Sure, I didn’t know her name or her employer, but she had reporter written all over her. I slid my cell phone out of my back pocket. “I guess I’ll be calling the sheriff, after all.”

“Wait. Please. Just give me ten minutes. I’ve been emailing and calling your lawyer. No one ever returns my inquiries. Don’t you want your story out in the world?” She crossed in front of the car, invading more and more of my space.