Page 13 of My Three Rivals

We didn’t have to knock the house down necessarily. But Wyatt and Maverick were investors in the property, too, and they would never go for it. Not that I wanted to share that side of my business with them. Although I trusted them more than anyone else in the world, I still didn’t trust them enough.

No, we already had plans for the vineyard and winery, anyway.

Plans that didn’t include Tegan Pickett.

“Are we going or what?” Wyatt asked again, unable to sit still now that we had formed the plan.

That was just the way he was built. Single-minded and methodical. He wouldn’t rest now until the job was executed. I wished I hadn’t agreed so freely. I’d never get him off my ass now.

With my eyes still trained straight ahead, fixated on the uneven ripples of the pool, I calmly answered. “Can you stop fucking asking every two seconds?”

“You were the one who wanted to do this,” Wyatt reminded me, unperturbed by my moderately threatening tone.

“Are you having second thoughts about doing it?” the too-intuitive Maverick piped in.

Unlike Wyatt, he lounged comfortably against the deck side chair, a beer in his hand. He was in no rush to go anywhere.

I didn’t dignify his question with a response, and Maverick snickered as if my silence was his answer.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Wyatt growled. “I went all the way home and packed for nothing?”

I was beginning to feel like I had an angel and devil on each shoulder, stuck between them on the deck. Abruptly, I rose and ripped off my sunglasses, tossing them and my shirt onto the chair before executing a perfect swan dive into the deep end of the pool.

When I resurfaced, my head felt clearer, the cool waking me up slightly. I swam to the side and draped my bronze arms over the slip-resistant tile.

“We’re going in the morning,” I announced, interrupting whatever the pair had been discussing.

They both whipped their heads toward me with narrowed eyes.

“That’s information that might have been beneficial when we were at home,” Maverick offered sarcastically. “Do you know how much gas costs these days?”

“Are you running low on cash?” Wyatt asked Maverick sarcastically. “I can float you.”

“We’re all going to be lower on cash—among other issues—if we don’t do something about that girl,” Maverick whiplashed back. “Two minutes ago, this was an urgent matter, and now…?”

I cleared my throat loudly. I had their attention again. “You’re staying here tonight,” I informed them. I looked pointedly at Maverick. “You can call over whichever flavors of the month you’re doing these days, and we’ll have ourselves a little fiesta.”

My suggestion shut them up for a moment, their brows raising with interest.

“Yeah?” Maverick drawled.

“What about the guests?” ever-responsible Wyatt needed to know, nodding toward the main house.

“No bookings tonight. Tonight, it’s just like the old college days. Fuck work and fuck all the usual bullshit. Let’s just have a boys’ night and clear our heads.”

Maverick was already pulling out his phone, his thumbs working like crazy, as Wyatt ambled to his feet. “I guess I’m on beer duty?”

“I’ll text you a list,” I agreed, happy that they were so easily placated.

It would be good for all of us to let off some steam for the night. It might be the last night of peace we had for a long, long while.

CHAPTER7

Maverick

Ihad the worst hangover in the history of hangovers. I can’t even remember when we stopped drinking or if we did, my blurry eyes taking in the sight of several empty beer bottles on the bedside table as they opened to the cooing of morning doves, just outside the window.

“Shut up!” I mumbled at their sweet, low blubbering. Under normal circumstances, I would have found their communication charming, but today, my head was pounding far too hard for any noise. “Go away.”

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