Page 8 of Keep You Close

“Yep. Atlas Rivers. That’s my name. And this is my damn house.”

Atlas… Rivers?

Rivers?

That couldn’t be a coincidence, right?

“Um, you wouldn’t, by any chance, be related to a Kingston Rivers, would you?” I asked.

At that, the man’s brows drew low as he slowly pulled himself up to a seated position, but not without a lot more cursing.

“That’s my brother. Kingston, Nixon, and Rush. My brothers. You know them?”

“I, ah, yeah,” I said. “I work at the doggy daycare where Kingston and Savea board their dogs when they travel,” I said.

“Great. Six degrees of separation and all that. But why are you in my house?”

“Because I rent it,” I told him, my free hand already sliding my phone unlocked, and toggling over to Kingston’s number.

“You rent my house? My house?”

“Surely, there must be some sort of… misunderstanding,” I said, my heartbeat tripping into overdrive.

This could not be happening.

I needed this house.

There was no way this was just a misunderstanding, right? Surely Kingston would have known that his brother… wanted to live in his own house?

But then… why had I been living here for months without ever seeing this handsome man named, of all things, Atlas Rivers?

“Uh, hi, yeah, Kingston, this is A…AJ…” I said into the phone, the stress of the moment making me trip over the nickname I was now going by.

“Yeah, AJ. Is everything alright? Did something break?” he asked.

He’d been an amazing landlord. The best I’d ever come across, in fact. I once called to ask if I could use the shop vac in the garage because heavy rains had made some water leak into the basement, and he’d rushed over to suck it all up by himself. At two in the morning. And didn’t even make it seem like an inconvenience.

“No, actually, um. I don’t know how to say this. But I’m standing here looking at a man who claims that the house I’ve been renting is… his.”

There was a pause.

One long enough to make my belly drop.

“I’ll be right over.”

With that, he hung up.

“He’s coming over, isn’t he?” Atlas asked.

“Yes.”

“Shit,” Atlas said, his gaze looking down at himself, lost in his own worries.

I didn’t have time for his concerns, though, not when a million of my own were swirling around in my mind.

Because if I couldn’t keep this house rental, I honestly had no freaking idea what I was going to be able to do.

CHAPTER THREE

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