Page 44 of My Three Rivals

“We have to decide what you want to do with the house,” Atticus told me about a week into the renovations. “The equipment in the winery is fairly up to date, although our research showed that a few tweaks can be made to benefit the vineyard financially.”

“Wow. You guys really did just jump into this,” I told them admiringly as I fell onto the couch.

I hadn’t stopped moving in days, the only breaks, it seemed, for sleep and the odd bite to eat. The house was in shambles, half the furniture removed, the sofa I sat on next to hit the dumpster.

“We’ve wasted enough time, don’t you think?” Atticus asked, sitting next to me. He pulled my legs onto his thighs, his tanned hands working at the taut muscles in my calves as he talked. “But we really do have to make a decision about the house.”

“What kind of decision?” I asked.

“It might be nice to turn this into an inn,” Maverick suggested, perching behind me on the top of the couch, his fingers running through my loose waves.

I tucked my head back to look at him.

“I don’t want strangers staying here,” I told him unironically, and he laughed as Wyatt snorted.

“I don’t know… you’re a pretty good hostess,” Maverick teased.

“That’s also another kind of licensing,” Atticus added, his hands working harder as Maverick found my shoulders.

In unison, the men massaged the knots out of my neck and legs.

“Yeah, I don’t know…” I murmured. “I mean, Gran used to have tours, but having people stay here? I’m not sure about that.”

“It doesn’t have to be decided on now, does it?” Wyatt piped in, sinking onto the coffee table, his chin in his hands as he drew his knees up.

“No… maybe not,” Atticus hemmed lightly, but again, I caught him sharing a look with the others that I didn’t understand.

“What is that?” I demanded. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” they chorused innocently.

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “Frat boys,” I muttered, and they all chortled.

“Let’s put a pin in any inn plans, okay?” I yawned, dropping my head against Maverick’s arm as he worked.

“Whatever you say, Princess,” he chuckled, but again, I noticed the covert looks among them.

I guess they still don’t want me to know all their secrets,I mused, but so far, I had to admit, they were really coming through for me.

CHAPTER20

Maverick

After the many years I’d spent in foster care, I’d built an almost impregnable wall around me, particularly when it had come to women. Some would call it “mommy issues” or “abandonment trauma,” but I’d always seen it as good sense.

Men were always much easier to understand, in my opinion: they said what they meant and meant what they said. Women had head games and coy little games that I didn’t have the time or the patience to figure out.

But Tegan dispelled that myth for me. In fact, the more time I spent around her, the more I realized that she was the most honest, upfront person I’d ever met—including my partners, who I trusted more than anything in the world.

It made me want to do things for her that I’d never done for anyone else, a sentiment I could see my friends shared.

I’d often find fresh flowers placed in the vases on the kitchen counter, left there for Tegan to find after Wyatt had been out in the fields, mending the fences. Atticus, more subtle in his wooing, would stock up the fridge with Tegan’s favorite beer or wash her clothes with the fabric softener she liked with the vanilla undertones.

I was overt in my gestures, reminding her daily that we were on her side.

“What do you have there?” Tegan asked, ambling down the butler stairs, one of Wyatt’s t-shirts barely covering her sweet ass cheeks as I pored over the plans in front of me.

She paused to sniff the fresh batch of flowers on the counter, a small, enigmatic grin touching her lips at the sight of the wild lupines, gathered in the vase near the sink.

---