Page 43 of My Three Rivals

Maverick stood to help her with the dishes, and the minute she was out of view, Atticus turned to me.

“Are you drunk?” he asked in a low voice.

I shook my head.

“Good,” Atticus continued. “I thought you were going to say something to her… you know.”

“No,” I scoffed, hoping the heat of my face wasn’t evident to him.

Why did I speak so openly with her?

Of course, Atticus and Maverick knew all about my history. Even if I hadn’t come clean with them in college, I had no doubt that they did a full background check on me, just like I had on them before signing into Suncrop with them.

“I know she makes it easy,” Atticus told me in a low voice as Maverick and Tegan laughed about something in the kitchen, covering our conversation. “But you have no idea what she would do with our secrets, Wyatt.”

I nodded, swallowing. I smirked. “She doesn’t even know half of her own family’s problems. I’m not going to feed her any of mine.”

Although Atticus appeared placated by my words, I found myself wondering if the truth about her brother would ever make it to Tegan’s ears.

And we still needed to figure out what to do about Lou.

CHAPTER19

Tegan

For as much as I expected the other shoe to drop, the partners’ track record ingrained deeply in my brain, they started to do exactly what they promised.

The day after our treaty meal, I woke up at my usual time, well before the crack of dawn, and headed outside to see that all the disabled Bobcats were off the property.

When did they manage that?I wondered, moving to sit on one of the old chairs. I was stunned again to find that all of the porch furniture was gone.

Distinctly annoyed but intrigued about why they would have only touched the rotting, ancient chairs, I headed out toward the front of the house, where I saw a huge commercial dumpster, the patio furniture at the bottom.

“The new stuff is coming today,” Wyatt called from the doorway of the house.

I turned on the driveway to look at him in disbelief. “You trashed the chairs?”

“And the table, the ugly old tiki torches, and some other stuff that was probably toxic,” he agreed. “We stayed up and did an inventory, ordering online after you went to bed.”

My heart softened as I realized he was speaking the truth. “I could have helped.”

“Don’t worry,” Wyatt chuckled, turning back toward the house. “There will be plenty for you to do, I’m sure.”

He wasn’t wrong.

I quickly discovered that the men of Suncorp were extremely methodical when they weren’t busy trying to ruin my life. From the minute they committed to helping me, changes were made.

Old, molding pieces were scrapped, broken walls replastered.

A mousy, mustached man came in on the third day, scurrying around with a clipboard and tablet, peering through every part of the house and making me nervous.

“House inspector,” Maverick explained, catching my pained look when I stood in the door of my bedroom, ensuring the guy didn’t go through my underwear drawer.

“Is this really necessary?” I groaned. “It’s so intrusive.”

“So are termites,” Maverick quipped, slapping my butt.

But there were no termites or any other major structural issues, according to the inspector. The plumbing and electric were going to need overhauls, and Atticus put in a call immediately.

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