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“Crab daddies!” Alex shouts.
“No crabs,” I tell Kipp.
My five foot eleven and three-quarters, twenty-nine-year-old, I-shave-my-face-every-day husband pouts. Pouts.
“Put that away,” I say sternly, aiming a finger at his face.
He does, but not before grabbing another box off the floor and blowing me a kiss.
“Oooh,” Alex sings once Kipp is out of sight, his hazel eyes turning my way. “Teddy and Kipper, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes dancing, and then comes marriage. Then comes a baby in a—hey.” Alex bats my hand off his mouth. “Rude.”
“You’re trouble,” I point out, wiping my palm before grabbing an upholstered armchair.
“And proud of it,” he retorts.
Yeah, yeah.
I head down the stairs with the armchair in tow. Kipp stops when I walk past him at the bottom landing. “Uh,” he says, turning to watch me. “Can I be next?”
I set the furniture in the truck, pushing it against the side before facing Kipp. He’s waiting with a grin.
“Sure,” I reply, striding his way.
His eyes go wide. “Wait, what?”
Kipp grunts when I haul him over my shoulder. I secure my arm above his ass and head for the stairs.
“Holy shit,” he breathes.
I get a strong sense of satisfaction as Kipp goes silent for the rest of the short climb up to the second floor. When I set him down, his face is flushed and his hair is disheveled, giving him a decidedly sexy bedhead look that would only look better earned naturally.
“Fuck, Teddy,” he whispers, recovering quickly and fanning his face. “Is tossing me around on the table? Because I’ve never been with a guy who could pick me up before, and that was hot as hell.”
“Yeah, sweetheart,” I say in a low voice, tugging his shirt back into place, fingers lingering. “I think that could be arranged.”
His blush darkens.
My ringing phone interrupts the moment, and I pull it from my pocket, the smug smile I’d been harboring slipping away. I’m tempted to dismiss the call, but I have a feeling I know why my brother is trying to get in touch, and it’d be better to head him off now before he gets any big ideas.
“Excuse me,” I mumble to Kipp, walking down the hall. His forehead pinches in clear worry, but he heads back inside as I answer my phone. “I’m not selling my shares, no matter what Antoni implied.”
Cameron is quiet for a beat. “Is it true? You got married?”
I sigh, stepping out of the way as Alex and his boyfriends pass with boxes in their hands. “None of your business.”
“It is my business if it becomes our business. Did you get a prenup?”
Jesus Christ. “Let me repeat myself, Cam. My life is none of your business. It stopped being your business the moment you fucked me over. With my boyfriend.”
“Theo,” he chides. “Are you really hung up on that? It was five years ago.”
I clench my jaw tight. I haven’t been Theo for a long time. Cameron and Antoni are the only ones who still call me that, and the nickname chafes like an ill-fitted boot.
“If you’re asking if I’m ready to forgive you, the answer is no,” I say.
“Why won’t you sell the shares? You don’t even work here anymore.”
“And whose fault is that?” I grit out.
