“Told you not to trust him,” Byron Phoenix said as he ambled into the two-story foyer from the hallway that led to the great room and the study.

“I never trusted him,” Lucas responded, turning to face his deceased mother’s second husband, Byron, who was dressed in his usual blue jeans and Western-style shirt. His trimmed brown hair was streaked with silver. He had a highball in his hand-cola and something. His custom-leather tooled boots clicked against the tile floor.

“He shelled out for her lawyers?” Byron came to a halt, his broad shoulders squaring, thumbs hooking into his belt loops while his gaze followed the stairs to the second floor where Devin and Amelia had been given adjoining rooms with a shared bathroom.

“Probably should have seen that one coming,” Lucas admitted. At least it explained why Steve had gone out to Lake Westmire, and why Devin had at first denied the fact that he’d been there. “At least she’s finally home.”

“But so is that mama bear Devin Hartley,” Byron pointed out.

“She is a problem,” Lucas admitted. He’d won today, but then so had Devin.

Byron puffed out his broad chest. “We shoot intruders back in Texas.”

“If we shot intruders here in Seattle, you’d have been dead years ago.”

“You know I loved your mama.” Byron’s words weren’t defensive, he was simply stating fact.

It had taken Lucas a few years, but he’d come to respect that the rough Texas cattle baron made his mother-Crystal-happy.

“Back then, everyone called you an intruder,” Lucas pointed out.

“Are you defending Devin?”

“No.” Lucas hadn’t meant to take up Devin’s side. She was a very big problem for him. She obviously wasn’t going to disappear easily, and now she had Steve to bankroll her efforts.

Lucas glanced at Byron’s crystal glass and decided a drink was a good idea. He started toward the great room, which was accessed by a wood-panel and portrait-lined hallway. Byron fell into step.