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Liam seems unconcerned. “I doubt that’ll be a problem. Our filing and whatnot has grown too much for us to handle on our own, so any help would be useful. And most of the work is more time-consuming and tedious than it is difficult.”

Hmm. I’m wondering if I need to bother continuing this conversation when Liam leans over to me. “Look, if you’re worried about something there, you probably don’t need to be. Zed’s a flirt, but I doubt Dean’s even his type.”

“I don’t care about that,” I say a little too quickly.

Whatever Zed just said, I missed, but Dean is nodding enthusiastically and smiling. Laughing.

Then I hear “See? Gotta stop selling yourself short.”

Fuck, the way Dean lights up at the praise? I don’t think I’ve seen him look that way since before he and my sister got pregnant.

Things were very different between us after that.

But then Dean goes and fumbles the can of club soda in his hand, flipping it right into Zed’s lap.

“Oh God, I’m so, so sorry. Let me…”

Whatever else he’s saying gets lost as he scrambles to grab the can and run for some napkins on a nearby table. But Zed only shakes his head and takes Dean by the arm, urging him into the house so they can both get cleaned up.

Or maybe he wants to get Dean dirty, too.

“I might have been wrong,” Liam murmurs. “About Dean not being Zed’s type.”

“Let me guess, Zed likes submissive bottom boys who get off on degradation and praise?”

“If he’s an exhibitionist who’s into sharing, that’s pretty much Zed’s perfect partner.”

I think of Dean’s upcoming date, the one with the client who likes to watch other guys fuck him. Not sure how much he’s into it, but he clearly doesn’t mind. Not when he’s getting paid, at least.

My first impulse is to follow the two of them inside. Head them off. But I’ve got no reason to. It would be too obvious.

“Well, good for him,” I say. “Sounds like they’re perfect for each other.”

“And you’d rather they not be?” Liam doesn’t seem intimidated by my flat stare, but I suppose that makes sense. Ravi’s guy was some sort of big-deal special forces back in the day. Still is, possibly? The man doesn’t exactly look rusty.

“I don’t care what he does.”

The way my three beers slosh in my stomach? We’re not talking about that.

Liam makes a noise that conveys clearly how full of shit he thinks I am. What the hell am I supposed to say, though? That Dean was always supposed to be mine, and if I can’t have him nobody else can either?

I know exactly how that’ll sound.

“Uncle Mike! Miss Eve said she knows somebody who could do braids for me.”

“My cousin. She’s still learning,” Eve calls over to me. Then to Ella, she says, “Remember, we have to ask your daddy if it’s okay first.”

“Is it okay, Uncle Mike?”

Reaching out, I give a gentle pinch to her cheek. “Like Miss Eve said, we’ll need to make sure it’s okay with your daddy.”

Even though it’s never really my desire to undermine Dean’s parenting, it’s physically painful to defer to him on this. On anything.

“Let’s go ask him.” She’s already tugging on my hand as if she can drag me out of the chair.

But I don’t know what’s happening right now with Dean and Zed. If I were Zed, I’d probably have his pants down in the guest bathroom by now. Have his miles of pretty, tan skin draped over a marble vanity. For example.

My throat tightens. “How about this? You go play one more round of horseshoes and I’ll find your daddy. It’s about time for us to go home, anyway.”