Their ribbing seemed good-natured and not pure meanness like her cousins’ constant barbs.

The salad course arrived and they dug in.

After Deacon finished his beer, he switched to water. “Does Clive know you’re here?”

“No. He’d have to show his rat face at the office more than twice a week to know anything.”

“It’s not goin’ any better with him?”

“Worse, actually. It was goddamn blackmail that our fathers agreed to give him a position in the company.”

Blackmail sounded harsh.

“They could’ve said no. Instead they both bent over for Aunt Suzette just like she wanted.”

Tag’s posture went rigid. “Now we’ve got a chance to kick his worthless ass to the curb and cut him out, if you’d just—”

“We’re not discussing this shit tonight, Tag, so fuckin’ drop it. Keep it up and we won’t be discussing nothin’ tomorrow neither.”

Molly tugged her fingers out of Deacon’s death grip. As she debated on whether to excuse herself and head to the ladies’ room, the door opened and the food arrived.

Every bite lived up to the hype. She moaned when the first bite of tender steak and sharp cheese hit her taste buds.

Tag’s phone rang and he excused himself from the room.

The second the door closed, Deacon placed a hot kiss on the side of her neck. “Word of advice.”

Crap. Had she mistakenly used the appetizer plate instead of the bread plate? “What?”

“That sexy little fucking moan you made when you were enjoying your food sounds awful damn close to the sexy little fucking moan you make right before you come.”

That’s when she knew it was possible to blush from head to toe. “It is?”

“Yep. And that noise belongs to me. Just me.” His soft lips feathered across her jawline. “So if you keep your nonverbal approval to yourself, you’ll save my cousin a bloody lip.”

“God, Deacon. You are paranoid. I doubt Tag heard anything besides you thumping your chest every time he looked at me.”

“Oh, he heard it, all right. I saw his face. That’s why I wanna punch him in the mouth. Fucker is probably in the bathroom right now, rubbing one out.”

Ridiculous man.

“And you are gonna make them noises with me later, and it won’t be because of food.”

“I’ll do my best. But no promises if the chocolate crème brûlée with raspberry sauce tastes as orgasmic as it sounds.”

Deacon’s mouth captured hers in a kiss more seductive than any decadent dessert, and she couldn’t help but moan. He murmured, “That’s what I’m talking about, babe. That noise is mine.”

Tag returned and they finished the rest of the meal in silence.

The plates were cleared and the waiter took dessert orders.

“How long are you here for?” Molly asked Tag.

“I’ll leave after the breakfast meeting with Deacon.”

“Do you practice law outside of the family business?”

“No. JFW began as an oil company, but we’ve diversified over the years. Plenty of legal scrabbles to keep me employed and I also handle investments.”

“Oil?” She sent Deacon a sidelong glance. “Your family is in the oil business? I didn’t know that.”

“Because that’s their business, not mine. Fighting is what I do.”

“I’m a third generation oil man, as is Deacon and our cousin Clive. Granddad started the business in the 1950s.”

“Jesus, Tag. Don’t bore her to fuckin’ death with a family history lesson.”

Two sentences wasn’t exactly a history lesson. “The only experience I’ve had with multigenerational business is farming,” Molly said, trying to smooth things over. “And not much experience, since my grandmother sold most of the farmland after my grandfather died because she didn’t have anyone to pass it down to.”

Tag lifted a brow. “You weren’t interested?”

“In farming? No. I watched my friends struggle with not wanting to take over the family farm. But most of them ended up doing it anyway.”

“That happens in a lot of family businesses—doesn’t it, Deacon?” Tag asked. “One person shirking responsibilities.”

Deacon stiffened beside her.

So much for smoothing things over. Tag seemed intent on riling Deacon.

“Not everyone is cut out to be cutthroat, Tag.”

“Says the man who beats up other men for a living.”

Tag and Deacon glared at each other.

This macho family crap drove her crazy. “So it’s just you and Clive toiling in Texas?”