“Do you mind?”
“An audience? Not as much as I thought I would. Kind of hot.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Riley called—loudly from the doorway instead of just in Isaac’s ear. “Bearing witness is much better than just listening in.”
They shared an annoyed look, and Andrew stepped back, tossing the condom away and pulling up his pants. Isaac took more time but had soon tucked himself away too.
"You tell anyone…” he warned Riley, who was no longer trying to hide.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Riley bit his lip as he eyed them both covetously. “And I thought the roof was steamy. If you ever want extra participants—”
“Don’t push it,” Andrew said.
Then he turned to Isaac, stepped in close, and whispered in the ear without the earpiece, “Your turn next time. You're going to turn in that wallet, right?”
“I will.”
“Meet up later? For thecase,” he added hastily, a blush coloring his fair cheeks that seemed so silly after he’d just dominated Isaac against an alley wall with an impressive show of strength.
“Can’t wait,” Isaac said.
Andrew gave Riley a final reticent glance, who had the nerve to wave at him, and then headed out of the alley.
Isaac slumped against the wall, feeling blissfully sore and content.
“Does my insane jealousy over how hot that was in any way exempt me from whatever revenge you’re plotting?” Riley asked.
Gesturing with an irritated twirl of his finger, Isaac motioned for Riley to go back inside. “We’ll see.”
Chapter 6
ANDREW
Afterwork,Andrewenteredhis house to the smell of—Biang Biang noodles? He could tell from the way his nose hairs wanted to burn away. His mother had always made the dish especially spicy, and he and Steven had been trying to outdo each other to get the recipe right ever since she passed away.
He also entered to the sounds of instrumental jazz on his record player—again.
“There you are,” Steven said as he came into view from the kitchen, carrying the delicious smelling noodles with potholders that he set on the dining room table. There were also vegetables and even some bao, though those looked store-bought, and a beer at each of their usual place settings. “You’re late.”
Bitterness tinged the back of Andrew’s throat, and he fought to keep his hands from tightening into fists like they had when he saw Olivia. His ex and his brother should not create such similar feelings in him, yet with both he felt like they trampled forward without any care that he might be underfoot.
“Hard to be late for something in my own home,” he said stiffly. “Pretty sure we didn’t confirm family dinner for this week.”
Family dinner was a staple, even with their father moved halfway across the country for his retirement—and to not be as readily reminded of the loss of their mother by staying in the city—but that didn’t give Steven permission to just come over.
Andrew had gotten caught up in work for other clients after the alley. He’d called Kevin, who’d left Avalon after looking over Dalton’s research, and they decided to reconnect on Monday. He hadn’t had the chance to come home yet and shower.
Ford’s scent must be all over him.
“When we don’t confirm, at least one of us still makes sure it happens,” Steven said, taking his seat and staring expectantly at Andrew to join him, who hadn’t moved from the entryway.
“You know I hate the records without singing.”
“Your bad taste is beside the point, but if you hate them so much, why not let me have them?”
Never. They’d split the records evenly, what Dad hadn’t taken for himself, and that’s how things were going to stay.
“Come on, quit being a brat. What would Dad say if he heard we skipped a week?”
