“Yes, that six-pack of yours really tells me how the croissants have rocked you,” I say.
A charming smirk passes over his lips right before he drops my hand and rings the doorbell. “Notice my six-pack, huh?”
“The astronauts on the I.S.S. noticed your six-pack.”
He presses his hand to his chest. “Don’t flatter me. My ego won’t be able to fit through the door.”
I nudge him with my shoulder just as the door opens, Huxley appearing on the other side.
There’s something to be said about the genetics the Cane brothers possess because every one of them is extraordinarily handsome. All with dark hair, square jaws, sculpted bodies, and personalities that would make any leading lady fall for them.
Huxley has that tall, dark, and brooding thing going on, but can switch right out of it when he needs to, like right now, as he smiles at me.
“Lia, it’s great to see you. Been a while since my brother brought you around. Congrats on the engagement.”
“Thank you,” I say. “And congrats on your wedding as well. Breaker showed me pictures.”
“He should have brought you,” Huxley says, eyeing his brother.
“Charise was a fine date,” Breaker says while shifting to the side.
“Lia would have been better.” Huxley steps to the side as well and gestures with his hand to walk in. “Everything is on the back patio. Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” I say as I step into his beautiful house, where the entryway has a large picture of him and Lottie on their wedding day. The sun is setting in the background. He’s holding her possessively by the jaw as he kisses her. It’s raw, beautiful . . . erotic, a picture Brian and I would never take.
A position Brian would never hold me in.
A kiss I don’t think we’d ever share.
He doesn’t have that in him, that craving, grasping for air-type nature. He doesn’t see me as his and only his. He doesn’t look at me and think . . . mine.
That’s never bothered me, but for some reason, looking at this picture of Lottie and Huxley, and the words Brian said to me last night, it’s . . . it’s bothering me now.
“You okay?” Breaker asks, coming up next to me.
“Yes,” I answer. “Beautiful photo of them.”
“It was a beautiful wedding,” he replies and then smooths his hand to my lower back, right above the curve of my ass. “Ready to get some tacos?” he whispers in my ear right before he guides me toward the back of the house, his palm nearly searing my skin through the fabric of my dress.
“Yes,” I answer as my voice gets caught in my throat.
He must not notice because he leads me out back where JP and Kelsey are filling their plates while Lottie fills up a champagne flute.
“Hey,” Breaker says with a wave of his hands, causing all three sets of eyes to land on us. “Brought Lia with me because, frankly, she invited herself.”
I pinch his side, causing him to laugh. I whisper, “Because of that, game on.” I address everyone and say, “Breaker said the Bloody Marys are mediocre.”
“Oh, you bitch,” he whispers, causing me to laugh.
“What?” JP asks. “My Bloody Marys are not mediocre.”
“You have no idea what you just did,” Breaker mutters.
“I have an inkling,” I answer as JP sets his plate down, grabs Breaker, and takes him over to the drinks, where he runs through every step of making the perfect Bloody Mary.
“Hey, Lia.” Kelsey waves and grabs a plate. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you,” I say as I take the plate from her and then look over the buffet.
What looks to be fresh tortillas are stacked under a warmer. There are scrambled eggs, a variety of cheeses, salsas, refried beans, bacon, sausage, avocado, and cilantro. Breaker was right. This looks amazing. To the right is a colossal bowl of fruit salad made up of strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, and cherries. And to the right of that . . . the croissants with a bowl of jelly.
“This looks amazing,” I say.
“Take your time,” Kelsey says. “We’ll be here for the next few hours, slowly picking away at the buffet. It’s an event. I would start with two tacos and a drink.”
Lottie slides in next to me and says, “Then go for the bowl of fruit as a palate cleanser.”
“Then a croissant, only one to start,” Kelsey adds.
“Then some water,” Lottie says. “Then another taco, then croissant, then fruit . . . then croissant.”
“Keep it slow and steady on the booze drinks.” Kelsey hands me a mimosa.
“I’m not going to remember that, so I might need you two to guide me.”
“We got you,” Lottie says and then points at a table on the other side of the pool. “Meet us over there unless you want to listen to JP drone on for half an hour about how he makes the best Bloody Marys.”
“He better get it all out now,” Kelsey says. “I don’t want to hear about it when we get home.”
Chuckling, I fill my plate with two tacos made up of scrambled eggs, refried beans, cheese, bacon, and avocado and then head over to the other side of the pool, in the shade with the girls. Just what I wanted.
“I’m so glad Breaker brought you,” Kelsey says. “We’re always telling him to bring you, but he says you spend a lot of weekends with your fiancé.”
I nod. “Yeah, he’s out of town this weekend, so I was free.”
“Well, thank goodness for that,” Lottie says. “By the way, the knitted potholders you gave us are my favorite thing ever.”
“Mine too,” Kelsey says. “I need to know how you made them. I’ve wanted to pick up a hobby for a while, but I don’t know where to start.”
Lottie grips the table and says, “Oh my God, we should start a knitting club.”
“Don’t tease me. I’ve always wanted to be part of a knitting club.”
“Oh, we’re not teasing.” Lottie looks over her shoulder and calls, “Myla, over here.”
I glance over my shoulder and spot Ryot Bisley—former third baseman for the Chicago Bobbies—I know this because Breaker told me—and his wife, Myla. They recently joined forces with the Cane brothers, so seeing them here is no surprise.
Ryot tugs on Myla’s hand, whispers something in her ear. I watch as their eyes connect. An unspoken affection for each other passes by right before he pinches her chin and kisses her lips gently.
The sight of them makes my stomach hollow out as the thought, “I want that,” passes through my mind.
But don’t I have that?
Don’t I have that with Brian?
I want to believe that I do. I want to be able to sit here and think, if I brought Brian to this brunch, that he wouldn’t send me on my way and focus on the powerful man who he has at his fingertips but rather speak quietly in my ear, hold my hand, want to let everyone know that I’m his.
Myla makes her way over here, her curvy body something to behold. No wonder Ryot is watching her walk away. Hell, I can’t take my eyes off her either.
“Hey, girls.” When she spots me, she says, “We haven’t met. I’m Myla.” She holds her hand out, and I take it.
“I’m Lia, Breaker’s best friend.”
“Oh, I’ve heard so much about you. Congrats on your engagement.”