Searching the Manor was the reason I was in Sawyers Bend. Somehow, through good luck disguised as bad, I'd ended up exactly where I needed to be. This whole thing was too good to be true. I'd arrived in town despairing over how to get close to the Sawyer family. Now, I had carte blanche to search their historic Manor.
Never mind that I was due for some good luck. I knew it didn't work that way. Not for me. Which meant I was missing something, some angle they had for offering me the run of the house and access to their art collection. Why? What could they have to gain?
Stalling, I said, "If you want pictures, I'll need my phone."
Tenn shot me that grin I wanted to hate. I didn't. It lit his deep, blue eyes from within, sending my belly tumbling over itself every single time he aimed it my way. "Griffen has an extra tablet with an app you can use to take pictures and notes. He set it up thinking he and Hope could work on the project, but they never seem to have enough time."
"And Griffen is good with me taking over? He didn't seem like he was my biggest fan yesterday."
Tenn smiled again, his expression softer this time. "Griffen is protective of his family these days. He doesn't trust you, but he trusts me. I promised him you wouldn't damage anything."
"I won't," I agreed immediately.
I took possession of the tablet after breakfast and headed upstairs with a bounce in my step, thinking it was only a matter of time before I found what I was searching for.
Hours later, I was bored, frustrated, and wondering what the hell had been wrong with Prentice Sawyer. He owned Heartstone Manor, a treasure in itself, as well as what had been rumored to be a renowned art collection. Instead of taking care of everything he'd been given, he'd let the house decay and lost half of the art.
Griffen had the house back on the right track, but the art collection was a fraction of what it should be. Granted, Heartstone was massive and it was always possible things had been packed away in a room in the attic or lower level, just waiting for me to stumble across them. Maybe.
I thought of the bust of Emperor Vitellius. It had been listed for auction by Prentice Sawyer, probably only weeks before he'd died. How many other pieces had been disposed of the same way? Where was the money? And why was Thatcher so sure the statue would end up back here?
Too many questions and I couldn't ask for the answers without giving away my part in the whole mess. Not a good idea considering I didn't exactly know what my part was. I was getting ready to bang my head against one of these beautifully papered walls. What if the bust of Vitellius wasn't here? What if Thatcher was wrong? Why hadn't he called? Was he hurt? Was he—
Stop, Scarlett. You can't do anything about Thatcher right now. Just keep your head down and look for the bust.
I was lecturing myself an awful lot lately, and it wasn't doing any good.
I needed a break, needed to clear my head instead of banging it against a wall. One more room, and I'd go outside, get some fresh air. Maybe see if the boys wanted to kick around the soccer ball for a few minutes. A sound in the hall caught my ear.
"I heard Tenn brought us a tasty little snack."
I looked up to see a man, early twenties at my guess, with platinum hair and bright blue eyes, his white polo shirt tucked into a pair of pants I was sure he'd call salmon. From where I was standing, they just looked pink. I narrowed my eyes, wondering if that belt had whales on it. I wouldn't be surprised. Yep, just as Savannah had described.
"You must be Bryce," I said, flicking a glance over my shoulder. "Savannah told me to look out for you."
I instinctively knew she was right to warn me. This man was dangerous. Not in the way Hawk or even Tenn could be dangerous. They were tough, but this man was mean.
And I was no one's snack.
Chapter Fifteen
TENN
At the sight of Bryce entering the room, I came to a halt outside the bedroom door. Savannah had told me she thought Scarlett was going through the rooms up here. I hadn't seen Bryce on my way up. How long had he been lurking around before sneaking into the room to take Scarlett by surprise?
I was ready to crush his face with my fist, and he'd only gotten out a few words. Typical. He'd always been a spoiled little snot. My Aunt Ophelia couldn't bear to tell her little prince, ‘No.’ Ever. My siblings and I were rarely all in agreement, but we were united in our hatred of Bryce.