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“I’m gonna say maximum you get laid is eight times. On a good week.”
Elijah whistles and leans back in his chair. “Lucky bastard. Some of us haven’t been laid eight times in the last year.” I wish I could say I was surprised by my oldest brother’s admission, but unfortunately, his marriage looks nothing like Nathan’s.
A cocksure grin spreads across Mason’s face, and he’s obviously delighted with his stats. It’s adorable that he actually thinks he’s won. Nathan shoots me a conspiratorial glance. “You want to close this one for me, counselor?”
I roll my eyes before fixing them on Mason’s expectant face. “You must know why you get so much uncle time with Luke on a Sunday, right?” This is my first Sunday dinner in a while, but I’ve already figured out the score. One nephew and four doting uncles, not to mention a besotted grandfather.
Mason frowns. “Because we’re the best fucking uncles in the world.”
I can see Nathan smirking from the corner of my eye. I place my hand over Mason’s and squeeze. “Surely you’re not naive enough to believe it actually took Nathan and Mel a full twenty minutes to choose the wine for tonight’s dinner, bro?”
It takes him a few seconds, but realization dawns on his face. His jaw drops, and he looks from me to Nathan. “You—” His attention comes back to me, then returns to the happiest fucker in the room. “In the fucking wine cellar? Really?”
Nathan offers him a casual shrug. “Like I didn’t catch you and that pretentious soap actor down there the Thanksgiving before last?”
Mason scoffs. “Exactly! Now I’ll never be able to go down there again.”
“You mean go downinthere again?” I can’t help but tease him.
“Not that I like to brag”—Nathan makes a show of checking his watch—“but I’ve already had sex more times this weekend than you do in one of your good weeks, Mase. At home. In the caron the way over here. In my room upstairs. In the tub. And yeah, in the fucking wine cellar. Thanks for the childcare, by the way.”
“Fucking married people,” Mason mutters. “It’s not a fair comparison.”
“Not all of us are so fortunate.” Elijah sighs and downs the rest of his Scotch. “I’m here to skew the averages back to normal.”
“That’s because you’re married to Amber the Ice Queen,” Mason replies, grimacing. “Man, that woman would freeze your dick off with a glance.”
Elijah glares at him. “You don’t have to like my wife, Mason, but you do have to respect her. I’m allowed to complain about my love life. You’re not.”
“Besides,” I say, jumping in to head off this potential flare-up, “Amber isn’t as icy as you think, Mase. Her not liking you doesn’t make her a bitch. It just makes her a good judge of character.”
Everyone laughs at that, even Mason. He’s quick to rouse but equally quick to forgive.
Maddox pours himself a coffee from the cafetière on the table. “Anyway, let’s not turn this into a dick-swinging competition. We all know I’d win.”
Mason barks out another laugh. “Says the guy who gets laid even less than Elijah.”
“My celibacy is a choice, nutsack,” Maddox quips, dodging the balled-up napkin Mason tosses at his head. “I never strike out, so therefore my stats are perfect.”
I take another sip of my drink, savoring the warm buzz of alcohol and the even warmer feeling of being surrounded by my brothers again. It’s been too long since we’ve all been in the same room, trading barbs and inside jokes like no time has passed at all. My relationships with these guys aren’t perfect, but they’re the best family a guy could ask for.
“So, Drake.” Mason leans forward, a glint in his eye. “Let’s get back to where we started. You blew me off last night. You at least owe me some of the details—tell us more. How did you meet her?”
I open my mouth to reply, then shut it again. Really, what’s to tell? I don’t even know her last name, where she lives, or any identifying information about her. She should be instantly forgettable, simply another pleasant night of mutually satisfying sex.
Truth is, I remember way too much about her. I remember how her pussy tastes and can still almost feel her silky cum on my tongue. How wet and tight she was as I slid my cock inside her and the sexy sounds she made when she came. How my name sounded on her lips, like she had no control over it at all.
Even worse, I remember other things—things from before I got her naked. Her laugh. The sorrow hidden behind her smile. The way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her friends and her mom. How she called me out over breakfast. She was the perfect combination of sweet and sassy, and even thinking about her is distracting. I should have gotten her number, should have asked to see her again. Except I’m me—I don’t do relationships and I don’t break my own rules. So instead, I went cold on her as soon as we finished fucking and bundled her off on her way. Handed her over to Constantine like she was nothing but a package I needed delivered. That’s the other thing I remember. The way she looked at me as she left, draped in that creased bridesmaid’s dress. She was disappointed in me, and I hated it.
My brothers stare at me, anticipating my response. And I guess it’s my fault I didn’t shut them down completely. I didn’t tell Mason to go fuck himself. I allowed her into the conversation, into my mind. Maybe I actually want to talk about her. Hell, maybe it will chase her away if I do. “Well, if you really must know…”
“Oh, we must,” Nathan interjects, his grin widening.
I clear my throat. “I kind of stumbled into this wedding. Purely by accident, of course.”
Mason shakes his head, amused. “How the fuck do you stumble into a wedding, bro?”
I lean back in my chair, a wry smile playing on my lips. “Well, it’s a long story, but let’s just say it involved the finest steak I’ve ever eaten, a good tux, and an open bar.”