Enjoy your dinner, Marshall.
Cursing, I slid my phone back into my pocket and then tucked my cock up into the waistband of my briefs. The erection was clearly not going anywhere, but I was not going to give my brothers fodder to tease me through the whole rest of the meal.
By the time I got back to the table, the food was there, obviously ordered in my absence. I kicked the side of the booth so Smith would get out of my way, and I felt all three sets of their eyes on me as I returned to my seat.
“Is the boyfriend in the restaurant?” Finn asked, poking at his salad.
“There is no boyfriend.”
“You look like you just fucked,” he said, angling his head to the side and giving me a very slow onceover. “You’re flushed.”
“Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself speak?”
“Very rarely,” he said with a grin.
I turned my attention down to the salmon I ate every week. It was always properly seasoned and well-cooked. It waspredictable. Silas was not predictable. I dropped my right hand onto the edge of the table, letting my fingers hold the weight while my palm curled around the side to steady myself. The restaurant wasn’t tilting on its axis; that was just me.
My three brothers lapsed into a casual and teasing conversation with each other, and I managed to fight my way through half the salmon before giving up. I turned down a third glass of wine, which earned me a raised eyebrow from Hunter, but no admonishment or question from the rest of them. Time ticked by achingly slow, and at seven-fifteen, I bumped into Smith with my shoulder.
“Just because I only had two doesn’t mean you have to stop at two,” I said, remarking on the fact he’d quit drinking when I had.
“I didn’t have lunch,” he said back.
“Two is enough then,” I said, and Smith smiled at me. “Let me up again. I need to get home.”
He moved out of the way without argument, and Finn opened his mouth to call me out, but Hunter smacked him hard in the center of his chest.
“Everything is fine,” I assured them. “I’ve just been working long hours this week, and I’m feeling a little sluggish.”
“You work long hours every week,” Finn countered.
“And yet I still slog through to tolerate your company every Friday.”
He gave me the finger, and I gave Smith a hug.
I loved my brothers, all of them, even if they each had their own idiosyncrasies that drove me up the wall. I was sure my emotional detachment bothered them sometimes too, especially Smith, who looked up to me more than any of us ever had to our father.
“Let’s get together soon,” I said to Smith, out of earshot of the twins. “Just the two of us.”
He nodded, not giving anything away.
I left cash for my drinks and dinner, then jogged back to my car. The drive home took a lifetime, thanks to traffic on the 405, but I made it home with ten minutes to spare. There wasn’t time to do much besides take my shoes off and turn on the lights, pour myself a glass of wine, which was more out of habit than anything else, and then Silas was on my doorstep, finger pressed against the doorbell.
“This is fine,” I said to myself, padding my way from the kitchen to the front door. The wine remained untouched on the counter. I wasn’t going to drink it; I just hadn’t been thinking. It was routine, but Silas…Silas was not routine.
I steadied myself with another telling breath, then twisted the doorknob open and let him inside.
CHAPTER 11
SILAS
Ihad been nervous, to the point that I almost turned the car around at least four times, but as soon as Marshall opened the door and I saw him standing there in his slacks and his button-up, bare feet and exposed forearms, everything—once again—settled into place.
“Silas.”
My name was a low rumble somewhere in the back of his throat that sent gooseflesh racing up my arms.
I stepped into his foyer and toed off my sneakers, sliding them together against the wall so as to not take up too much room without being invited to do so.
