As much as David irritates me, I could kiss him right now.

“Oh, are you two back on again? Is that what this is?” Tripp mutters under his breath, just loud enough that a few hear.

“Piper, come with me.” My dad gives a curt nod and, not wasting another second, collects his notebook and phone, and stands.

I guess the meeting is over.

I feel like puking as I fall into step next to him and we walk side-by-side along executive lane, to the end.

“Who’s your source?” Dad demands to know the second his office door closes behind him.

“Someone who overheard Tripp’s conversation.”

“Piper . . .” His hands are on his hips, his jaw taut. “You’d better start talking, because otherwise I’m going to give the green light to KDZ. We have no reason not to.”

Dammit. I squeeze my eyes shut.

A knock sounds on the door.

“Not now!” my dad barks, but David steps in.

“I don’t mean to interrupt—”

“Yes, you do,” Dad snaps. “What is it?”

David smirks, but then his expression turns serious. “I ran into John Deveaux on the green over the weekend and he asked me what I thought of Tripp. You know . . . what he brings to the table.”

It takes a moment for what David is hinting at to click. “Tripp is putting out feelers.” To one of our biggest competitors, too.

My dad’s lips purse together in thought. “Deveaux lost his VP of Development. He’s looking for a replacement.”

“How long have they been in talks?” My mind works over the pieces. What’s Tripp’s play here? That we agree to going with KDZ, he pockets his cut on the deal, and then bolts? Not that I wouldn’t be relieved if he left, but this might explain why he’s so adamant that we sign now.

“My guess is, if John is approaching you, they’re about to make an offer,” my father mutters. “What’d you tell him?”

“The truth. That Tripp has built one hell of a network of connections but he’s past his prime, and Kieran, I agree with Piper. He’s up to something.”

My dad throws his hands in the air. “So you’ve told David, too.”

“Yes, I have, because I know David has Calloway’s best interest at heart. And you said so yourself—I need to surround myself with people I trust.”

Dad frowns. “What’s going on here? Is Tripp right? Is this back on?” He waves a hand between us.

“No,” I say.

“And has my daughter divulged this super-secret source to you?” Dad peers at David through steely eyes.

David takes a deep breath and my stomach drops. One crisis at a time, please. I’m not ready for the Kyle confrontation. “Give her some more time to find out if this kickback rumor is true. Don’t you think it’s timely that Tripp’s looking elsewhere?”

“Of course he’s looking elsewhere. Wouldn’t you be, with the way he and Piper have been carrying on?” Dad shakes his head. “Get me something by tomorrow night or we’re going ahead with KDZ. Both of you, get the hell out of here now.”

David slides out of my dad’s office on my heels. “Have I told you how much I love having my ass chewed out by your father?” he hisses.

I exhale loudly. “Thank you for backing me.”

“You need to consider that your blue-collar playboy may be wrong.”

“He’s not wrong,” I insist, even as that cloud of doubt swells. What if Kyle is wrong?

“Then prove it and fast, because I just went out on a limb for you and I have no fucking idea why.” He storms into his office.

Mark and Renée share a wide-eyed glance and then Mark is on his feet. “Do you need something?”

“No.” I breeze past him but then stop abruptly, my mind spinning. “Yes. I need to know exactly how much Calloway has spent with this damn phone company, when our contract is up for renewal, and what the penalty is for breaking it tomorrow.” Because I am not above all-out threats to get what I want.

I walk through the door at nine that night to the sound of Christa’s lecturing tone. “He shouldn’t have tried stealing third base.”

“But that’s what he’s known for,” Kyle retorts.

“Exactly why he shouldn’t have done it!”

I round the corner to find the two of them on the couch. Christa’s already in her pajamas, Kyle’s still wearing his gym clothes, and, unbelievably, Elton is perched on Kyle’s chest, his deep rumbling purr carrying across the room.

“The Red Sox lost,” Kyle announces, stroking the cat’s back. “Christa thinks it’s my fault.”

“I didn’t say that,” she retorts, clearly missing his teasing tone.

Despite my hellish day, the sight of the two of them sitting together brings a smile.

And coming home to Kyle here . . . this place is actually beginning to feel like home.

A home that is taking shape, I realize, as my eyes wander the space—to the colorful landscape artwork covering the walls, to the Edgewood Made table and white leather chairs filling the dining area. Ashley and Marcelle have been busy.

I scan the kitchen. “Where’s Ash?”

“Out to dinner. With Chad.” Christa gives me a knowing—and unimpressed—look.

“No . . .” I moan, wandering over to fall onto the couch next to Kyle.

“Why is this bad again?” he asks.

“Because he’s an idiot and she’s too good for him, but he’s come to beg for her forgiveness for being an idiot and she’ll take him back because she’s settling.” I could win a fortune betting on the outcome of this.

“Right. Got it. So Ash needs to meet someone else.” Kyle bites his lip. “You should introduce her to Mark.”

“Mark’s in love with Renée.”

“Good luck. Renée’s gonna be banging David within six months.”

I laugh. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” he says with that cocky confidence.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what about Eric?” Christa throws in. “She always had a thing for him. Is he still single?”

“Yeah, as far as I know.” Kyle’s brow furrows. And then he’s chuckling as Elton burrows his nose into his ear. “This feels really weird.”

“Do you two want some time alone?” I tease.

“I can’t help it if he likes me more than you.”

“He likes your drying sweat, is all,” Christa mutters, tossing the TV remote onto the coffee table with a clatter.

“Ow!” Kyle hisses as Elton suddenly leaps off him and over the back of the couch, to tear across the penthouse. He stops by the French doors and spins around to attack the tip of his tail. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Kyle accuses, lifting his shirt to inspect the long, red scratch marks across his ripples of muscle, which are much more defined after being worked at the gym.

“And on that note . . .” Christa makes a point of rolling her eyes as she averts them, but I don’t miss the hint of pink in her cheeks before she stands and strolls toward her room.