"Heard it around town," he said nonchalantly.
Rage did not begin to describe what was running rampant through her body. "Listen," she said standing and pulling at him to stand. "I don't know who you are or why you're here, but it's time you leave. Do not, I repeat, do not come back. This town will eat you alive." She stared him down, as if her eyes could shoot daggers. Though her teeth were clenched and her breathing was fierce, she continued. "No one around here told you my life story. Either spill the beans or get lost."
When he refused to talk, she pushed him towards his truck. He stumbled a few times, but she kept pushing, refusing to ease up. After opening the door, she thrust him inside and then slammed the door shut, not caring if his foot or hand were in the door. "Get lost, Scott. I mean it. Don't come back."
He put the truck in reverse, but kept his foot on the brake. "Thought you might like to know that your boyfriend is the executor of this place." Disdain filled his voice and his features. "Are you sure he likes your camp idea?" Gravel spewed under the tires and she covered her face to keep from getting pelted. A voice said, "You messed with the wrong guy."
Caitlin remained in the drive, staring into the unknown. Deceit filled her heart and soul. "Garrett, the executor? That means he has total control of this place and therefore me?" Anger clouded her senses and she never heard the truck pull in the drive.
"Why was he here?" Garrett said, jumping out of his truck. When she shook her head, he grasped her arms and forced her to look at him. "You have to talk to me."
"Why? So you can have better control over me and my decisions?" she said, bitterness surrounding every word.
"You need to calm down." He took her arms, but she pulled away.
"When were you going to tell me that you are the executor of this place?" Her eyes were open wide and she never blinked. Anger coursed through her veins and she balled her hands into fist, but kept them by her side.
"We need to talk, but you have to calm down," he said somewhat irritated by the situation.
"No. I am done with talk," she said splaying her hands out in front of her. "When I want answers, no one gives them. I am 30-years-old and it's time people start treating me as an adult and respecting me as one."