Mixed Match Page 3

  Sophia shook off the thought.

  Portland was not about men. She was supposed to be standing on her own two feet. Finding a comfortable fit.

  But he was really hot.

  She closed her eyes and shook her head again, wishing she could rewind this whole day and start all over again, excluding her probable eviction.

  "I'm listening." Julie's voice blared through the receiver with renewed interest. "So, it was Numbnuts who did this, or this guy John Monroe? ‘Cause I'm confused."

  "Ugh. That's what I'm trying to tell you. The letter gave the guy Monroe's name, but it doesn’t make sense. Think about the timing. It’s not a coincidence the property was granted to me in the divorce and out of the blue someone else is claiming they're the rightful owner." No way. Something shady was going on here, and deep in her bones Sophia could feel Austin trying, once again, to destroy her.

  "But how? Why?" Julie sounded so confused, but Sophia couldn't for the life of her understand why. Her cousin, more than anyone else, hated Austin—otherwise known as Numbnuts—as much as Sophia did now. Julie loathed anything and everything remotely related to the Harman family.

  "He agreed to the divorce." Julie continued. "And why in the hell did you accept the summons? I would have jerked my hand back as soon as the words came out of the guy's mouth."

  Sophia slid down against the wall and tucked her legs in, criss-cross applesauce. "Well, I would have if—"

  "If what? What happened?"

  Shit. "I was kind of...sort of...preoccupied." The words squeaked out, dying from lack of conviction.

  "Go on." It wasn't like her bloodhound cousin was going to let Sophia sweep this conversation back under the rug where it belonged.

  Sophia covered her eyes and said it quickly: "I was unpacking and I might have forgotten to put a bra on when I answered the door, so the messenger was kind of drooling over my nipples while I was drooling over him." She gritted her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut, and braced for the backlash.

  If Julie saw him, she would not blame her. He was tall, flawless dark brown skin, with a casual effortlessness to him, and that was just his muscular frame in business casual duds. The face was all adorable cleft chin, full brows, bitable full lips, and deep dimples peeking through. What woman wouldn’t lose a little drool when faced with him?

  For the tiniest of moments she thought maybe Julie didn't hear her.

  "Mmm, mmm, mmm. You slore." Julie laughed through her teasing.

  "I suspect I should be offended, but I have no clue what you just said."

  "Slutty whore." Julie was in stitches now. "Don't try to act all innocent. You know exactly what you were doing, going out there with your big old juicy melons in the man's face." Julie could barely finish her sentence she was laughing so hard. "I'm surprised he was able to hang onto the paper. I cannot believe you."

  Sophia released a humiliated cackle. "I swear. I totally forgot. Mom called to tell me about the latest with Otis, so I just got out of bed and started unpacking. When the doorbell rang, I just...forgot."

  "Sure you did. Exactly what did you think he was giving you?"

  "It could have been mail. Filed copies of the deed. Who knows? Packages have been coming all week. It could have been anything." It could have. But lord knows fire had not bloomed low and tight in her belly in a long time. The courier's face flickered across her mind again, and again, just like that! She was turned on.

  Thank God she just bought new batteries.

  Julie sighed into the receiver. "Well...maybe this is good."

  Um. Come again? "Exactly how is this a good thing?"

  "First of all, don't worry about the house. Liz's boyfriend Derrick has a friend who's a licensed attorney in Oregon. I'll have Derrick get ahold of him today. Second of all, besides this whole loner phase you're going through where you insist on doing everything yourself, you need to get over what’s-his-face. As unbelievable as it might seem, someone new has caught your eye." At Sophia's exhale, Julie continued. "And third of all, if you're really doing this little pact with Aunt Helen, it might be nice to get out and have someone to hang with."

  Ugh, the pact. “Don’t remind me.”

  “You’re the one who took the deal.”

  "I've got six months—less than six months, now. Five months and two weeks left, and already someone is trying to steal my house. You still don't think this is a sign? Mom might be off the hook in less than thirty days. And did I tell you she's been sending me Return to Vegas countdown emails? Ugh."

  Julie put Sophia on hold for a second while she checked her work calendar and airline miles. She decided, despite Sophia's insistence that she could find a lawyer herself, Julie needed to be in Portland the following morning, come rain or shine.

  Likely rain.

  And bingo, there was the perfect flight. She got back on the line and gave Soph the deets so she could pick her up.

  "I love you, Jules. Thank you so, so much." Sophia took a deep breath and closed her eyes, thankful to have chosen the right person to help her take down Goliath.

  "Now, before I drag my ass all the way to Portland for four days, I want to know exactly how much wine you have, and how cute this messenger was."

  Chapter Three

  Everett bit the bullet.

  The second the words were out of his mouth, Everett turned and walked away. He made it to within a few feet of his truck before he turned back for another look.

  Just one more look at Sophia Kent couldn't hurt.

  Who was he kidding? It hurt like hell. Which was why he quickly got behind the wheel and put as much distance between them as he could.

  A half hour later Everett let the glass door crawl to a loud close behind him, announcing his arrival. His best friend-turned-attorney, Mike Kennedy was sitting behind his desk, per usual, eating God knows what.

  Everett scrunched his nose and tried to wave away the briny, ammonia smell lingering in the air, procrastinating as long as he could before he met Mike’s searching gaze. Of course Mike would want an update on their latest recon.

  Mike heaved a loud sigh before clearing his throat. "Well?"

  Everett glanced over at him now. Sure enough, his raised eyebrows nearly reached the expertly edged hairline of his fade.

  "I saw her." Everett shrugged. His tone was low and matter-of-fact, like he'd confessed something shameful.

  "Okay, and?" Mike wound his hands in circles, urging Everett to spit it out already, but Everett just sort of stared through him.

  "Dude, chill." Everett ran his hand over his close-shaven hair. "I told you. She was there. She accepted the letter."

  Professionally they partnered up seven years ago, but their friendship had continued unbroken since elementary school. After high school, Everett started flipping houses alongside his grandmother, Babs while Mike hopped a plane to Berkeley in the Bay Area to study law at Boalt, now known as the UC Berkeley School of Law. By the time Mike passed the bar, Everett had a few dozen flipped properties under his belt, and Babs had handed over the reins to him and his sister Zora. When eventually they needed legal counsel to make sure all their i’s were dotted and t’s were crossed, it only made sense for Mike to be the missing piece to their puzzle, since the trust factor was already built in.

  Plus, there was no one Everett would rather have guarding his six when the battle for Patton Place came to a head. Mike hated the Harmans on principle almost as much as Everett did, not even including having Everett's back. Babs might as well have been Mike’s grandmother too, for all the years he spent playing, eating, and spending the night at her house.

  He and Mike shared a brotherhood, which required thick skin for days with thin patience. Together they'd seen each other through the company's highest highs and lowest lows, and still their work ethic was closely akin to fuel in an engine. Countless workdays spent finalizing land purchases and orchestrating building projects turned into late nights at bars, hoisting beer mugs to toast the action high points of whichever hoo
p game was on the big screen.

  In between those nights, Mike played the field with a revolving roster of women, who all ended up getting permanently benched. Everett mostly played it safe when it came to matters of the heart. He never figured out exactly how to play the game without getting hurt, so he mostly sat out.

  Which was why Everett hesitated now to tell Mike any more about Sophia Kent.

  Today was one of those days he hoped Mike wore his thickest skin, because Everett was feeling his own patience thinning, or Mike’s.

  Still without saying a word, Everett headed straight for the floor to ceiling window facing the east side of the building.

  "Do I even want to know what happened?" Mike asked.

  His question was met with silence while Everett stared over the horizon at the peak of Old Mount Hood in the distance. His burgeoning green city of parks and bridges and bike paths—as beautiful in the day as it was under the neon lights of the thriving nights.

  On most days, watching the city come to life would calm him, but today Sophia Kent had crawled in under his skin and settled there. He wasn't sure what bothered him about her, but he didn't like it.

  He was looking out the window, but she was all he’d been able to see since he left her on the porch. How her hard nipples poked out her shirt. Those full lips. And those hungry eyes.

  Just thinking about her, he could feel himself harden, and he adjusted himself before he rolled his head back to crack his neck. Sweat beaded on his forehead and scalp, triggered by more than just the sun streaming through the glass. Suddenly suffocating, he yanked open his top shirt button, shaking his head.

  "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" He asked, turning to face his friend.

  Mike's head popped up mid-bite into a forkful of salmon.

  Everett grimaced and wrinkled his nose. "Tell me you didn't microwave fish at work, you Neanderthal. It smells like shit in here."

  Unfazed, Mike chewed at a glacial pace before he responded. "So glad you're back, what with the winning attitude and all. It went extremely well, I take it?" He set his fork down into the Tupperware container.

  The ice broken, Everett sat in the chair and tossed the papers onto his partner's desk. He twisted his neck to crack it again and sucked in a deep, cleansing breath, but they didn't soothe him. He was still antsy and unhinged. Unable to sit still, he got back to his feet and finally answered Mike.

  "It's done," he stated.

  Mike examined him for moment, as if determining his next words carefully, then shrugged it off. "Don't sound so enthusiastic. We've only been working on this...oh, let’s see...for like the last two years. It's what you said you wanted, and I'm handing it to you." He leaned back in the chair and tilted his head.

  "I'm fine," Everett muttered. He flashed a quick smile and hauled out his phone for a welcome distraction.

  "Fine, as in, you're functioning on all cylinders? No. Fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional? Yes. You're clearly not fine, Ev. Might as well let me in on it now. I'll end up suffering the brunt of it later anyway."

  Everett replaced the phone in his back pocket.

  This was why he went to Mike. He never bullshitted or beat around the bush when it came to important things. Today, it was what he needed—the truth, straight up, no chaser. Mike had more than earned the right to be Everett’s trusted counsel in business. Because that's what this was—business. Isn't it?

  "I know. It's just..."

  "It's just what?" Mike pressed, but there was a hint of annoyance in his tone Everett couldn't dismiss.

  Heaviness washed over him, head to toe, and his chest tightened as he weighed the pros and cons of letting his friend in on this one. Why was he so conflicted about it, anyway? She accepted the letter. Nothing happened.

  In his mind he played “what-if,” figuring out how many ways things could go wrong. But, overwhelmingly, every step of what happened pointed to the fact that he just needed to just say it, if for no other reason than to get it off his chest.

  The pressure of Mike's patience weighed on him. As a friend, he would wait for Everett's answer. As his in-house counsel, he would make a case for the benefit of the company. Either way, the silence was stifling and he needed to just...breathe.

  Breathe.

  Everett exhaled, coughed, and sucked air back in. He smiled and shook his head. "It wasn't him," he finally muttered in a near-whisper.

  Mike jolted up and clasped his hands on the desk. "I don't get it. You knew Austin must have given up the property. Otherwise why would he have sent you a copy of the filed divorce decree? He's basically proving you were right all along. He's removed himself from the equation."

  "Everything about this still feels wrong, though." Everett began to pace, unable to put his finger on the most bothersome part.

  "No. He was wrong." Mike clarified. "His whole fucking family was wrong," he said, now stabbing his finger on the desk. "It's why we've put in all these hours to get Babs’s house back."

  As if it dawned on him, Everett stalked right up to the desk and lowered his weight onto his knuckles. "You're goddamned right. His family. Not Sophia's. She had nothing to do with it. You didn't see her. She’s nothing like him." It all boiled down to her again. Whoever Sophia Kent was, she didn't deserve to pay for the wrongs her ex-husband's family committed a generation ago.

  Everett let his chin drop to his chest for a moment, but when he lifted his chin again, he didn't feel any less conflicted. The knots in his stomach tightened.

  "Sophia, huh?" His even tone judgmental, Mike leaned back in his chair again and crossed his arms over his chest clicking his pen incessantly. "Enlighten me."

  When Everett failed to respond fast enough, Mike filled the silence. "No really. I want you to enlighten me about what kind of woman it takes for a man to give up a piece of real estate that’s been in the family for generations, for a piece of ass. She must have really been something." He capped it off with a scowl.

  "It wasn't like that, man. You know me. I don’t have a problem claiming what’s ours, and whether I like to admit it or not, I'm loyal to a fault," he reasoned, standing ramrod straight, his look unwavering, unblinking. "You have to believe me. I wouldn't let it give me pause if I didn't feel in my gut that something’s wrong, you know?"

  Mike advanced to rocking in his chair. "And you got all this from the few seconds it took to serve her with the petition? No really, how long has it been since you got laid?"

  He should have known Mike would take it there, but he wasn't any less annoyed. Despite his fucked-up logic, Everett still, for some insanely inexplicable reason, felt compelled to explain his viewpoint. "She gave up the last name. She was getting settled in the place. From what I could see through the windows and down to the blue and green welcome mat on the front porch, she isn’t anything like Austin Harman. She doesn’t need to wear the money."

  Mike rolled his eyes.

  "Please. You know if she was anything even remotely like him there would have been private collection paintings or priceless vases. Some crazy expensive interior decorator would have been running around barking orders about where things should go. This woman isn’t trying to prove she belongs anywhere near Bridlemile and Goose Hollow. I'm guessing she could not care less about what it means to live in the southwest hills of Portland."

  To his layman, lopsided logic, Mike gave a noncommittal nod. But for Everett, it meant Mike could at least empathize with his hang-ups about the situation.

  "So what are you saying?" Mike conceded.

  "I'm saying…she's different. There's more to her than money, which means, when it comes down to it, she isn't a true Harman."

  "And it changes things how, exactly?" Mike defaulted to lawyer mode, clearly failing to see how Everett's revelations about Sophia Kent were relevant when it came to legal ramifications.

  But Everett was intent on getting his point across—and maybe once he spit it out, he’d be able to figure out what the point actually was.

&n
bsp; "Because I went there. I went there personally to see the look on her face, thinking if she was anything like the Harmans, it would feel just as good to win. And yes—" Mike didn't say a word, but he didn't have to—"she’s pretty, and she does have curves for days." His back was turned to Mike, but if Everett knew anything about his friend, he knew his mind tended to hang in the gutter.

  "But she’s also young—probably in her mid to late twenties. And though she gave her best impression of someone who’s carefree and happy, I recognize the sadness behind her eyes. She's a fucking pawn."

  Everett pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know why, or what Harman is up to, but whatever it is, he wants her to go down for it."

  Everett backed into the chair behind him and let the tension drain from his limbs into the smooth leather cushion.

  Absentmindedly, Mike picked up a paper Everett unknowingly crumpled between his fists and the cluttered surface when he took his fists-on-the-desk looming stand. He placed it on top of a pile at the front corner of the desk. More than anything, Mike’s astute attention still followed Everett's moves, watching, judging.

  "Okay, humor me. What do you want to do about it? Withdraw the petition?" Mike asked. "I want you to think carefully, and before you answer the question, answer me this: even if she is this sexy pawn who came out of nowhere, what kind of person do you think it takes to marry an insidious, manipulative vulture like Harman?"

  It was a good point. A point Everett had failed to consider.

  He rubbed the back of his neck with both hands and clasped them behind his head, willing the tension away. "I don't know yet. All I'm saying is, let's just do a little more digging before the hearing."

  Mike nodded and dumped the remains of his progressively smellier lunch into the trashcan beside the desk.

  For a minute Everett lingered in the chair facing Mike, thinking about Sophia Kent's intentions.

  He wasn't sure if Mike was right about her, or if Austin had stooped to a new all-time low, but before the hearing, Everett planned to find out.

  * * *