Page 4 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

“Bishop!”

Kayden kicked his friend while clearing his throat. But I had to know.

“Is he talking shit?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Alright then, prove it.”

Kayden blinked. “Prove it? Prove what?”

“Well, my dinner’s cold,” I pointed downward. “You owe me a hot meal.”

“And we’ll take you to one,” he agreed. “In fact, there’s a place right around the corn—”

“I don’t want something from some stiff, uppity restaurant,” I countered. “I want somethingyoumade.”

“Me?”

“One of you, sure. Or both. Youdidsay you could outcook each other.”

Kayden’s handsome face broke into a grin. It reminded me of all the fun times we’d shared, ragging on my brother, taking Jase verbally apart as we played board games, or soaked in the hot tub, or camped on our big leather couch, just shooting the shit. Kayden and I both had sharp tongues, and knew how to use them. Together, we were a force to be reckoned with.

“Are you kidding? Me versushim?”

I shrugged. “Why not?”

“Because I’d bury him. It wouldn’t even be close.”

Bishop laughed, leaning in. “Is he serious?” he jerked a thumb. “After all those hockey pucks we suffered through?”

“Besides,” I went on, “If I know my brother, he sent the two of you here to cheer me up. And eating something exquisitely delicious, prepared by a pair of executive chefs—”

“He isnotan executive chef!” grunted Kayden.

“—might be just the thing,” I finished, ignoring him.

The two men stared at each other, communicating silently for a moment before sharing a nod. Bishop fished a few colorful Euro notes from his back pocket, then tossed them on the table.

“Hope you like getting wet,” he winked at me.

A ball of heat suddenly coalesced in my stomach. “Wet?”

“Sea-spray,” Bishop smiled, jerking a thumb. “Our kitchen’s on another island, remember? And this asshole’s gonna hit every bump and wave on the way there.”

~ 3 ~

KAYDEN

The cruiser sliced through the water like a knife, parting the waves, thrusting us forward and into the gathering shadows of night. Like everything else that came with the island, it was far more expensive than it needed to be. Complete overkill, when it came to ferrying us to and from the immaculate, private dock.

It was just one more unnerving part of the whole puzzling arrangement.

I steered it left, around the blinking green marker and into the channel. I hated boats as a general rule, but this one I could actually get used to. The whole time though, I wasn’t thinking about the boat. I kept thinking of her.

Jocelyn.

I still couldn’t believe she was here. Of all the places she could’ve gone; of all the states and countries and continents she could’ve picked to temporarily escape her grim reality, she somehow ended up here, in Greece, only a few short islands away from where we were staying.

---