“All the legal stuff.” Nervousness rushed her into a long explanation. “I can only imagine how busy you are now with your fight career and the rec center and everything you do for the community. You have your sister and your friends and all that training and travel. I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about anything.”
He’d already told her he wanted to be involved. No reason to beat it into the ground. She’d find out soon enough when he didn’t back off.
“I plan to talk to a Realtor tomorrow so I can get the properties listed right away. Hopefully we’ll get a quick sale. In the meantime I’ll take care of—”
“You want to sell?”
The question took her off guard before she recovered and said, “Of course.” She drew in a careful breath. “I can’t really pay you otherwise.”
“Pay me for what?”
“Your half of the inheritance.”
Damn. He didn’t want it, any of it. But Tipton had trusted him to discourage her from selling. Her grandfather wanted her to stay in Warfield, to claim it as her home. And now, after seeing her again, Cannon wanted the same.
They needed to talk. In no way did he feel entitled to her inheritance; the only thing he’d take from her was her time, her attention.
Her sexual interest.
Yeah, he wanted that. More so by the second.
He started to reach for her hand again, and a woman leaned down, twining her arms around his neck. “There you are. I wondered where you’d gotten off to.”
Well, hell. He’d totally forgotten that he’d made alternate plans.
Earlier in the evening, thinking he wouldn’t see Yvette until tomorrow, and being on edge, he’d made a semiagreement to hook up.
But once he’d seen Yvette, he’d forgotten all about the woman now latched on to him. He had to figure out a way to get rid of her without too much insult, because no way in hell was he letting Yvette walk away until they got a few things settled.
* * *
YVETTE LOOKED AT the beautiful woman pressing herself up against Cannon’s solid shoulder, one hand on his chest, the other in his hair, and she wanted to flee. Unfortunately, short of crawling over or under the booth table, Cannon had her trapped in her seat.
The other woman was chic and polished in a way Yvette could never be. Wavy, light brown hair, a sheer blouse and high heels only made her more attractive—and left Yvette feeling underdressed, out of place and far too intrusive. She’d come to the bar to give Cannon a message, to release him from any obligations, and instead she’d just...enjoyed him.
When so many others wanted his time and attention, her actions reeked of selfishness, making her stomach burn. Cannon had just gotten into town, but not only had she dragged him away from his friends, she’d apparently interrupted his romantic plans.
Envy stiffened her smile, making her feel clumsy and too obvious about the way she took in the circumstances.
As he stood, Cannon said, “Sorry...” as if trying to remember the woman’s name.
“Mary,” she supplied with a laugh, tightly hugging his arm, running her fingers over his solid biceps.
Damn, but Yvette envied her that. More than once tonight she’d wanted to do the same. Cannon had a body that begged to be touched. She wanted to explore all those bulging muscles and hard planes.
A lesson in frustration, for sure.
“Right, Mary.” Even standing, he stayed near the bench seat so Yvette couldn’t slide out. “Yeah, I’m sorry, but my plans have changed.”
Yvette stared. Oh, no. No way would she let him cancel on her account. She wanted him to see her as a better person now, not a continued bother.
Determination got her moving, and she deliberately slipped toward the end of the seat. “I really should get going.”
“Oh, good,” Mary said. “I was afraid you two were together.”
“We’re not,” Yvette assured her.
At the same time, Cannon said, “We are,” while he continued to block her retreat.
Both women stared at him, Mary with dismay, Yvette with disbelief.
“Yvette and I are old friends.” Not in the least bothered by her denial, Cannon pried Mary from his body. “I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Friends?” Mary asked hopefully.
“Actually—”
“Yes, only friends.” Yvette managed to say it with friendly insistence, but it wasn’t her best effort. To Cannon, she said, “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up.” She wanted away from the uncomfortable situation, but his big body remained in the way. “You don’t need to—”
“I want to.” With one hand on her shoulder, he kept her in place. “We have too much to talk about.” And before Yvette could refuse him again, he said to Mary, “I’m sure you understand.”
Starting to look annoyed, Mary propped her hands on her hips. “No, I’m not sure I do.”
Oh, God, after being at the center of one of the biggest scenes the town had ever known, she hated causing them, and she especially hated feeling guilty. “Really, Cannon,” she insisted, “it’s fine.”
He ignored Yvette’s protest and, being blunt, said to Mary, “I’m sorry, but I was just about to take off with Yvette.” And then, all but dismissing Mary, he asked Yvette, “Where are you staying?”
Feeling ridiculous, Yvette avoided looking at Mary. “I’m at the house.”