I nodded as he strode toward me then beckoned my hand at Brennan. His jaw worked but he traipsed after his brother, only pausing along the way to brush a kiss to my temple.
“You’re not supposed to get involved when we fight.”
“I’m not letting either of you ruin my buzz.”
“Your buzz?” He tangled our fingers together. “Afternoon tea amped up a notch?”
“Oh yeah, we had strippers and everything—” I chortled when he scowled. “I’m joking, Brennan.Joking.” At his grunt, I ghosted my fingertips over a graze on his cheek. “You fought?”
His lips pursed. “You said you had brownies?”
I nodded and watched him trundle off to the kitchen.
Aidan leaned against the counter, his fingers already in the box of baked goods I’d just purchased. Brennan, of course, snatched the muffin he was about to eat and, out of spite, took a massive bite.
“Brennan, you don’t even like blueberry muffins,” I chided.
“I took it in your honor. They’re your favorites.”
“My hero,” I sniped. “Now, do I have to invite your mother over, or shall I just bang your heads together without her input?”
Aidan snagged a donut. “Ma’s at the spa.”
“You’re a poet and you don’t fucking know it.”
“Brennan.” When that earned me his version of a pout, I sighed. “What’s going on? Savannah was really upset today,Aidan. I hope you know you’re pissing people off left, right, and center.”
“She asks too many questions.”
“Duh. Marriage hasn’t exactly mellowed her out, has it?”
“It definitely fucking hasn’t,” he griped then took an extra-large bite of his donut.
As much as the sweet treats stopped them from arguing, it also meant their mouths were too busy to answer my questions.
“Well?” I tapped my toe on the Italian marble that Brennan had imported especially because I loved the color.
“You’re not my wife, Camille. I don’t have to?—”
“Watch your fucking tone,” Brennan snapped. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that in HER home.”
“Like what? A human? It’s your job to lick her ass, not mine.”
My eyes widened when both of them dove at each other. “Not my—” My shoulders sagged. “—table.” The damn thing, six feet long and over 200 pounds of raw mahogany that had needed assemblingin situ, nearly flew across the floor as they fell into it.
When they veered toward the dresser that displayed my collection of Delft miniature houses, I squeaked and darted into the pantry.
I had no idea what made me do it.
Maybe it was invoking the threat of Lena? (She gave off poltergeist vibes.)
Grateful I’d been weight training with Brennan recently, I picked up the copper holder that I stored my potatoes in, hugged it to my chest, and ran back into the kitchen.
In the time I’d been gone, they’d angled away from the dresser, but seeing as they rolled around the floor like maniacs, only God knew how long my miniatures would be safe.
I got as close as I dared, lifted the copper urn, then upended it.
Right over them.
