Page 14 of My Three Rivals

A sleek, gray-blue head cocked from the roost to look at me, and I waved a floppy arm, but the animal remained in place, a throaty call emanating again as if to tease me. To add insult to injury, someone knocked on the door.

“Rise and shine, honey bunny!” Atticus purred. “We’re off to claim our new property.”

“Now?” I groaned, turning over, half-expecting to see a naked body in my bed. To my surprise, I was alone. “What happened to the women?”

Atticus snickered. “They’re in my bed, but I told them they have to leave, too.”

Groaning, I threw a pillow over my face and waved him away. “Give me time,” I begged. “What did you do to us last night?”

Atticus laughed again. “I’ll get the coffee going, but don’t take too long. I want to get out there this morning.”

Normally, I would have asked him what his rush was, but my head pounded too much for anything but stillness.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

I didn’t move the pillow from my head, but I sensed his retreat, leaving me in my agony. I needed a shower, but I couldn’t move.

Maybe we could go tomorrow. He already put it off once.

“Hello?”

I sprung up at the sound of a woman’s voice and realized that the cleaner was standing in the doorway. “Are you all right, sir?”

“No,” I answered honestly. “I’m probably dying.”

She stared at me, her blue eyes worried, and I managed a weak smile. “You need to get in here?”

She nodded sheepishly. “Yes, sir. There’s a guest arriving today.”

Shit.

“All right. I’m just going to take a shower. Give me fifteen minutes.”

She grimaced, and I realized I was screwing up her day. “Ten minutes?”

Shrugging, she turned toward the hallway again, and a minute later, I heard the vacuum. Rubbing my temples, I ambled from the bed, each step painful.

* * *

We each took our own vehicles up the West Side Freeway, winding through the city until I was on the Golden Gate Highway.

Out here, there were far fewer buildings, the commercialism left for the Sacramento center. I couldn’t help but breathe easier in the fresh air, rows upon rows of fields lining each side, until I found my Porsche bumping down an uneven dirt road. I’d only been to Five Penny once, and I wasn’t looking forward to this encounter in the least, which was why I had let Wyatt and Atticus get a head start.

But when I pulled up through the wooden gates, an aging sign announcing the location in chipped calligraphy overhead, I realized my mistake.

The squabble had already begun, Tegan flailing her arms as Atticus and Wyatt stood smirking with their bags in hand next to their respective vehicles. Even before I parked, I could see how inflamed Tegan’s cheeks were, and a rush of blood ran through me at the sight.

She was so hot when she was mad.

I frowned at the unbidden thought and parked next to Atticus’ Escalade, slowly emerging. I had no right to think about her like that—but she made it so difficult in her form-fitting tank top, curving around the lines of her tight, even body, perky breasts bouncing as she waved her hands furiously. She was giving me a semi.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think you own,” Tegan was saying as I stepped out of the Porsche. She barely glanced at me, but I saw her cheeks flush a shade darker with my arrival. “You’re not stepping foot in my house.”

“Sure we are,” Atticus replied in his usual, smooth way. “Because it’s our house, too.”

Tegan’s chin slacked, and she shook her head vehemently. “NO!”

“Uh, yes,” Atticus countered, stalking up the steps toward the front door.

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