Porter’s expression remains composed, though a subtle smirk sneaks through. “We tend to keep things pretty fluid.”
Hayden clears his throat, trying for composure, but I catch the mix of nerves and reluctant amusement in his eyes as my best friends practically throw themselves at his brothers.
Dominic nods approvingly, swirling his wine. “Fluidity. We love to see it. Makes everything so much more…delicious.”
“Dominic,” I snap, shoving a salad bowl at his chest. “Less flirting, more leafy greens.”
He waves me off. “If I have to be here andnotget to enjoy the fruits of my labor, I might as well have some fun in the process.”
“You’re both feral,” I mutter. Elijah only shrugs, eyes openly fixed on Zane.
“And?” Dominic smirks over his glass. “You know we love an audience.”
Elijah snorts, leaning closer to Dominic. “I’m not convinced we aren’t the audience here.”
“Okay, out!” I say, shoving them toward the door. “Your work here issoappreciated but please go home.”
Dominic laughs, downing the last of his wine before grabbinghis coat. “Fine, fine. But if you don’t call me later with all the details, my husband will never cook for you again.”
Before crossing the threshold, Dominic pauses. “Remember, Elijah can cook, but if any of you are in need of dessert—”
“Elijah! Collect your husband, please.”
Dominic blows me a kiss. “Have fun, boys. Don’t break anything.”
With that, he winks at Zane, who smirks right along back, and then he’s gone, leaving me alone with three literal gods in my tiny apartment.
I steal a glance toward the couch where the three of them sit and wonder if I should have braced myself for all this. Because my apartment suddenly feels too small. Zane, sitting in the center of my tiny couch, is taking up more space than should be physically possible, legs sprawled, expression amused. Porter, on the other hand, is more measured, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp, watching everything. He doesn’t sprawl the way Zane does, but somehow his stillness is equally daunting.
Hayden’s shadows coil at his feet as we sit down to eat, restless but restrained, stretching into the corners of the room as if testing his brothers’ presence.
Elijah outdid himself: roast chicken, creamy garlic mashed potatoes, a citrus salad, bread still steaming. Heaven on plates.
I take my seat beside Hayden, who still hasn’t said much.
Zane and Porter, however, talk about their lives. Zane, as it turns out, is the mayor of a small Midwestern town that worships the ground he walks on.
I blink. “Wait, you’re seriously themayor?” I turn to Hayden. “I thought that was a joke?” He shrugs.
Zane leans back, flashing a practiced politician’s grin. “Seven terms and counting. Turns out charisma is a renewable resource.”
“That’s…amazing,” I say, impressed. “What kind of town keeps electing the same guy? No offense,” I quickly add.
“The kind that knows a good thing when they see it.” Zane winks. “What can I say? I have a gift.”
Hayden snorts. “And it’s not humility.”
Porter sighs, barely glancing up from his plate. “It’s terminal.”
Zane nudges him. “Jealous?”
Porter rolls his eyes but doesn’t answer and the whole thing is very…brotherly.
I rest my elbows on the table, fascinated by the scene unfolding around me. “Okay, but why mayor? Out of all the things you could do with your mortal life?”
Zane smiles. “Seemed like a good fit. The same reason Hayden here gravitated toward the funeral business, I guess. I like people. And I’m very good at telling them what to do.”
Hayden scoffs, his demeanor starting to loosen. “Biggestunderstatement of the century.”
