Page 92 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

But none as beautiful as Kayden’s blue eyes.

“You know,” I chuckled, “another minute or two, and I would’ve found out what he did to the basil.”

“No fucking way.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault if Bruschetta Joe’s sweet on me,” I smiled and shrugged. “Maybe he’s getting older. Maybe he realizes a recipe that legendary, that important, needs to be passed on.”

Kayden slicked back his hair and let out a long, frustrated sigh.

“Older, huh?”

“Yeah,” I grinned. “Face it, we’reallgetting older.”

“And some of us; wiser!”

A splash preceded Bishop’s arrival, as it usually did. He swam over with long, powerful strokes, then proceeded to wrap his legs around me from behind.

“So what are you guys talking about?”

“Cooking,” I told him.

Those strong legs felt amazing as they snaked over my thighs. Squeezing me like a python, he pointed at Kayden.

“He still droning on about opening that restaurant?”

I tried not to laugh. “Not in the last hour, no.”

“We narrowed it down, at least. Concord or Derry.”

Two hands slid up the insides of my thighs, causing me to jump. A second later, Andre surfaced. He’d swam such a long distance underwater, I had no idea he was coming.

“Or we could go big,” Bishop shrugged. “Something near New York, or Boston.”

Andre twisted a finger in one waterlogged ear. “Are we talking about the restaurant again?”

“I don’t think we ever stopped,” joked Bishop.

Andre’s wild green eyes looked even wilder in the day’s dying light. Reflected in the shimmering water, the tan skin of his pecs and shoulder made him look like a Greek god.

“Chalk me up for going big, then,” he decided. “The bigger the better.”

“The bigger the more expensive,” Kayden lamented.

“Yeah, so…” Andre smiled, adding a shrug. “What’s the problem?”

Still wrapped around me from behind, Bishop must’ve sensed my confusion. “These two have a small pile of money,” he murmured into my ear.

“Oh, it’s not small,” said Andre.

“It’s not exactly ours, either,” cautioned Kayden.

“Like hell it isn’t,” spat Andre. “Remember the shitbags we took it from?”

If Kayden remembered, it wasn’t a memory he cared to recall. He looked at some distant point for a moment, then shook his head.

“It’s ours, trust me,” Andre reiterated. “And we’re putting it to good use.”

Kayden’s shoulders flexed with every slow movement of his pinwheeling arms. Looking thoughtful, he scratched at his beard.

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