I suppose it makes sense, though.”
“In what way?” inquired Melanie, plopping down in the seat beside Sunday.
Across from them, Olivia was using the remainder of the table to clean one of her beloved guns—a classic Glock that was lightweight enough to carry around with her but powerful enough to get the job done—whatever that might be.
“Well, Drake’s page is full of inspirational quotes about mental health and random posts about his private practice,” explained Sunday. “His most recent post is about an article in a psychology journal that he contributed to.”
“Sounds like he has a very specific image he’s trying to maintain,” Melanie commented. Olivia nodded silently.
“He’s good at it, too,” Olivia remarked. “Everyone is convinced that Drake is the perfect man. Even his parents.”
“But you said Rhys isn’t his biggest fan, right?” Melanie asked, reaching forward and lightly squeezing Olivia’s hand.
“No, he’s not,” Olivia confirmed. “Like I said, Rhys wants to see his brother knocked down a few pegs. I originally assumed that his motivation for encouraging the divorce was because he had feelings for Lila, but now I can see that Rhys is operating on a much deeper source of motivation.”
“Interesting,” Sunday mused. “What do you think those deeper motivations are?”
“Not think, know. He and I talked about it.”
Sunday’s face softened at Olivia’s response. “Oh really, and what did he say?”
“Lila is pretty much the only family he has, he’s not close to his brother, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Sunday concurred.
“He said, ‘His dad is just like Drake and his mom, is well, a puppet.’”
“Interesting. Well, he definitely does a lot of things alone. When I was looking at the social media accounts, Rhys has a lot of pictures of places he has been. And it seems, he’s gone everywhere on his motorcycle.”
“Hmm.” Olivia had no clue why she was so fascinated by Rhys, but she was. “Has he gone anywhere interesting?” When she moved around the table to peer over Sunday’s shoulder at her computer, she caught a glimpse of a shirtless Rhys smiling in a mountainous scene. Warmth that filled her cheeks as she stared at his tattooed chest and arms that were deliciously toned.
“He took his Harley up the Oregon Coast,” Melanie murmured, narrowing her eyes as she read the captions on the photos.
“What do you think I should do about his offer to help with the case?” Olivia asked, she knew that she needed to get back on topic or she would admire that man’s body all day.
“Well, I’m sure his participation could be helpful in some instances, but for now, let’s just—” Melanie began, but she was cut off by Sunday cursing low under her breath.
“Wow,” Sunday whispered, staring at the screen with awe.
“What is it?” Olivia asked, wondering if she might’ve just found something useful in one of the social media accounts.
“Just…look at them.” Sunday smirked, pulling up two separate photos of the brothers on the screen. There were no pictures of them together, further verifying Rhys’s claim that they weren’t close. “The jawline, the perfect nose. Few men have such excellent bone structure, and to think the universe conspired to make two of them.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. She really thought that her friend was focused on work, not the two hot men on the screen.
However, Olivia had to admit that Sunday had a point. She wasn’t attracted to Drake in the slightest, but Rhys was a different story. He was self-assured without being arrogant, and that made him possibly one of the sexiest men Olivia had ever seen.
“Hmm,” was all Olivia muttered in response.
“Something on your mind?” Melanie asked her.
“What? No, nothing,” she replied, sitting back down across from them and resuming her cleaning of the gun.
“Do you have a thing for the nice twin?” Melanie asked boldly. Olivia lowered her head, pretending to look closer at one of the hinges on the handle of the gun.
“Seriously?” Olivia scoffed. “First of all, I’m a professional, so no, I don’t. Besides, he’s only mildly attractive.”
“No way.” Sunday cackled. “Is this what you would call mildly attractive?”
Sunday turned the laptop around to face Olivia.
Olivia’s stomach flipped at the image of Rhys smiling at the camera, the aquamarine water of whatever tropical ocean he was in licking the deep V-shape of his lower abdomen. In one hand, he held a beer, while his free arm was draped around a bronzed Goddess wearing a tiny red bikini. He looked relaxed and impossibly sexy. Olivia felt a swoop of self-consciousness. She was nowhere near as effortlessly hot as the