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“Yeah, but it took quite a bit of prep,” Saxon adds. “Credit where credit’s due.”
She smiles. “Shall I be mum?”
“Seems appropriate.” He hugs her from behind, brushing his fingers over her bump, kisses her neck, then takes his seat.
Catie dishes up the dinner, and we eat while we chat. Their house is just across from the beach, and where the sliding doors are open, the sea breeze brings with it a salty tang and a welcome evening coolness, as it’s been so warm today.
We talk about all sorts of things—their pregnancy and how the babies are doing, Kingpinz, Craig, and their younger brother.
“Kip told me about Damon’s ex destroying all of his suits,” I say. “I’m guessing he doesn’t buy off the peg either. Cutting those up has to be a crime.”
“He didn’t care about that,” Kip says. “He did care when he found scratches all down the side of his E-type Jag.”
“That’s what happens when you stick your dick in crazy,” Saxon comments, helping himself to more mashed potato.
Catie and I exchange an amused glance. “Was she mad, then?” Catie asks.
“Certifiable,” he says, adding a generous second helping of the casserole. “But she was young and blonde, so he didn’t stand a chance.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-seven in April,” Kip says.
“And Rachel was only twenty, with big…” Saxon suddenly remembers whose company he’s in. “Eyes,” he finishes lamely, and Catie snorts.
I grin and get to my feet. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Of course,” Catie says, “just along there on your left.”
I visit the bathroom, then come out and sit back at the table. “I was thinking that you could have asked Damon to join us,” I say. “Or would he have felt like a third wheel?”
“Probably,” Catie says. “Kip, can you pass me your plate, please?”
He hands it to her, putting his arm around me as he leans back, resting it on the back of his chair. Opposite me, Saxon laughs. I give him a curious look. His eyes are dancing. Catie presses her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh.
Puzzled, I glance at Kip. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he says, “don’t mind them. Give us a kiss.”
I give him a strange look—it’s not something he’d normally say. Then as I stare into his eyes, I feel a prickle of warning. It looks like Kip—same black shirt, same mouth, same brown eyes… but it doesn’t feel like him, and it doesn’t smell like him…
I look back at the other brother, who’s watching me with amusement.
“Very funny,” I say, and smile at Catie. “Did they do this to you, too?”
“Yep,” she says as they both laugh and get up. “Luckily I spotted it, too.”
Kip pulls off Saxon’s tee, and Saxon unbuttons Kip’s shirt, and they swap, going around the table to take each other’s places. “We’re identical,” Saxon complains. “What gave it away?”
“Your cologne,” I tell him, “partly. But not just that.”
“It’s the eyes, isn’t it?” Catie says. “The other one just doesn’t feel right.”
“That’s it,” I reply, “exactly.”
Kip leans forward and kisses my temple. “Good to know,” he murmurs, and I inhale the subtle scent of his cologne, which never fails to send goose bumps rising all over my skin.
When we’ve finished the casserole, we clear the table, then they serve up a chocolate cheesecake they made together.
