Page 3 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

“He also demanded we take you to get a decent dinner.”

I laughed, nodding downward. “I already ordered dinner.”

Kayden pointed and smiled placatingly. “That’s not dinner.”

“Oh, no? Then what is it?”

“I don’t know. But you’re sure as hell not eating it.”

Almost on cue, my stomach growled.

“You sure? I’m kinda hungry.”

“Very sure,” said Kayden. “A million percent sure.”

“Because I know you’re a fancy chef now, and all that—”

“Executive chef,” he interjected.

Bishop caught my own hazel eyes with his. He rolled them dramatically, and I laughed.

“Executive, huh?” I grinned back at Kayden. “I remember you turning hamburger patties into hockey pucks in my backyard, whenever Jase let you take over the grill.”

“Yeah, well your brother always set the flame too high,” Kayden responded. “And the ground beef your mother bought was way too lean.”

“Sounds like a whole lot of deflection,” Bishop quipped, confidentially.

“Yeah. Sure does.”

“Especially since we’rebothchefs now,” he went on. “And I could outburger this asshole with one hand tied behind my back.”

The look Kayden shot his friend was almost deadly. Far too deadly for a simple rivalry.

“What do you mean you’rebothchefs?” I squinted, turning back to Bishop. “Last time I saw you, you were still in the Marines.”

The shorter of my brother’s two best friends remained uncharacteristically silent, as I gave him the usual once-over. Bishop still stood at a solid six feet, and only an inch taller than me. Right now though, his body was packed with delicious acres of lean, striated muscle. Even more than the last time I’d seen him.

“Yeah, well, I’m finally out,” he said, by way of explanation. “And right now, the two of us are working together.”

The pencil-thin high school lacrosse star that had tormented me throughout most of my childhood had enlisted straight out of high school. Each time he came home on leave, he looked bigger, stronger, more capable. He still took pleasure in torturing me whenever he could, but over time we developed an underlying flirtiness to our banter. The last time he came back, Bishop had looked so hot it made me utterly furious.

But not so furious that I still didn’t fuck with him.

“You’re working together?” I eventually laughed. “Where?”

“Right here. In Greece.”

My eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. “No fucking way.”

“Actually, we’re staying on a private island,” he smiled. “Not far from here.”

“What?” I blinked. “How?”

“Well, next week we’re working this special event—”

“Bishop…” The sternness in Kayden’s tone was lined with incredulity, as he cut him off.

“It’s very exclusive, very private,” Bishop went on. “We’re here scouting ingredients, and ordering proteins for—”

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