Page 63 of My Three Rivals

I burst out laughing at the sight as Wyatt groaned. “Don’t you know not to fry bacon naked?” he grumbled, but Atticus was unperturbed as he ventured in, placing the huge breakfast on my lap.

“I’m never going to finish all this,” I complained, taking in the pancakes and hashbrowns.

“Good. Because I’m starving, too,” Atticus chuckled, crawling back into bed with us to pick up one of the three forks he’d left on the platter alongside the overflowing plates. The sight of them made me smile, although I didn’t know why at that moment.

“Eat before it gets cold. Do you know the lengths I went to in order to make this?”

“Does it include second-degree burns on your dick?” Wyatt muttered.

I hooted and took my own utensil, handing Wyatt one.

“My dick is just fine. Wanna see?” Atticus retorted, jabbing his fork into a piece of bacon.

“Where’s Maverick?” I asked, cutting off their silly banter. “Isn’t he going to eat?”

Atticus winked at me but avoided my stare immediately after. “He’s just taking care of some business in San Francisco this morning.”

My eyes narrowed, and I set my fork down on the plate. “What business?”

“Don’t worry about—”

“Don’t do that!” I growled. “You promised we were in this together. Stop treating me with kid gloves. What is he doing?”

“Lou?” Wyatt guessed, and my blood ran through with ice chips.

My breath caught when Atticus didn’t answer immediately.

“You sent him to Lou alone?”

Atticus sat up. “Maverick can handle himself.”

Terror rushed through me. “Why? Why did he go to Lou? To confront him?”

Sighing, Atticus pushed the tray away and placed my cheeks between his hands. “You wanted us to stop paying him, but to do that, he needs to understand our position. We couldn’t just stop the payments and ignore his calls, Little Fire.”

My heart thudded in my throat, a wave of dizziness overtaking me.

“What does he hope to achieve today?”

Atticus released me and shrugged. “I don’t know. But one way or another, Lou needs to understand what’s going on. Otherwise, he’s going to come looking for his payments.”

How is he so calm? Why didn’t they tell me this plan?

“Come on, Tegan, eat. You need to keep your strength up if we’re going to make the production demands. Mirelle is waiting for you in the winery.”

Inhaling, I nodded, but my eyes darted toward my charging cell on the bedside table. I needed to call Maverick and make sure he was okay.

“Don’t worry, Little Fire,” Atticus coaxed me, but I wished they would stop saying that to me.

Just because it was out of my eyes didn’t mean I wasn’t going to worry about it.

Were we ever going to enjoy a peaceful, calm morning?

I wasn’t holding my breath on that.

* * *

I called Maverick three times between the time Wyatt and Atticus left my room, and I dressed to meet Mirelle in the winery.

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