Page 81 of My Three Rivals

He nodded, taking a long swig before answering.

“Yeah, but Teresa caught Wyatt about something in the winery. She and Mirelle are working on a new blend, I think. Some rose, I dunno. I can’t keep up with all the wine jargon. That’s more Wyatt’s thing.”

“Oh, yeah. I hear the new blend is lovely,” I agreed enthusiastically. “Five Penny hasn’t had a new vintage in… geez, I don’t even know how long. I’d have to look at the books. We really needed something like this. It could kick off sales and pick things up big time.”

Maverick raised a blond eyebrow. “Youheard? You didn’t taste it? Don’t you own this joint?”

“Only half,” I mock pouted, slipping off the granite countertop and moving to wipe down the surfaces. “The other half is owned by these savages who steal all my covers at night, too.”

I wondered if he could read my nervousness, my words racing out faster than usual from my lips. But Maverick only hooted and sat on one of the island stools not occupying his briefcase. I wanted to tell him to go get his friends immediately, my pulse racing in my veins, but somehow, I managed to keep my composure. “Where’s Atticus, then?”

“I’m here,” Atticus announced, sliding in through the back door in his usual suave manner. His lips found mine almost without looking as he flipped through the mail, but his eyes lingered on me when they parted. “Sorry, I got sidetracked outside, too.”

“You’re here now.” I grinned at him, but he held my stare, his pretty hazel eyes narrowing.

My heart jumped into my throat under his scrutiny.

He knows!

“What’s different about you today?” Atticus asked curiously, sending my heart into a tailspin.

“I’m impatient to sit down and have dinner?” I lied.

His eyes narrowed disbelievingly, but before he could respond, Wyatt burst through the front door, and I exhaled with relief.

Finally!

“Sorry!” Wyatt apologized, hurrying up the steps to kiss my neck, shrugging out of his suit jacket like he always did after business meetings. He couldn’t get out of his stiff clothing fast enough. “Damn, that girl can talk! I mean, you cannot get a word in edgewise, no matter how hard you try.”

“Mirelle?” I asked in surprise.

“Teresa!” all three replied in unison.

I gawped at them, shocked but pleased to hear it. I would never forget how I’d met the girl, trembling and terrified in a Home Depot, unable to bear the idea of the word “winery.”

But then again, we’d all come a long way.

“Go wash up and sit down,” I ordered them. “Dinner’s almost ready. I’m just finishing up the bread.”

“I’ll help you,” Atticus offered, rolling up his sleeves, and I couldn’t refuse. We shared a smile over the kitchen that he loved so much, his personal touch to the fully remodeled house.

Gone were all their personal bachelor pads now. Atticus kept the rental properties to bring in side income that benefitted Suncrop and Five Penny respectively, but all of our resources were pooled now.

“You’re distracted,” Atticus pointed out, and I realized I had again floated away. I blushed under his too-astute assessment.

“The new shelter is ready to open tomorrow,” I offered, still lying about what was on my mind.

Atticus paused his cutting of the cucumber for the salad and blinked, his smile brilliant and genuine, his dimple as deep as ever.

“Your grandmother would be so proud, Little Fire.”

The sentiment warmed me more than anything else he could have said, the places named for her, after all.

The Adelaide Pickett House had been started as a place of refuge for victims of trafficking, small donations from a single label of wine beginning the charity three years earlier. The idea had taken off with such speed and public warmth, I’d been able to expand and grow, upping the proceeds and getting Suncrop to join in on the donation.

At this rate, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the growth, but that was a matter for another time.

“You’re exhausted, Little Fire.”

---