“I do not.” I grab another tart. “It’s…tasty. And there’s a lot of variety.”

Killian grins. “You make a face every time you pick something up.”

“I’m squinting because they’re hard to see.”

Brenna shakes her head. “Why don’t you order a sandwich? I hear they do a mean roast beef.”

“I do love roast beef. It’s my favorite.”

“I know.” It’s a clear slip of the tongue, and she hides it by helping herself to a slice of lemon cake. But I heard it loud and clear.

She knows my favorite sandwich. Why shouldn’t she? We all know one another inside and out. Still, it throws me for a loop. I never thought she paid any real attention to what I was doing over the years. Her style has always been to ignore me as though I’m a blight in the room. At least that’s what I thought.

Not looking her way, I grab a scone and eat it.

Brenna makes a pained noise. “You’re supposed to break off bites and put them in your mouth one at a time, Ryland.”

I love when she says my full name like she’s a harried schoolmarm. I swallow down my scone before answering. “That was a mouthful.”

Her nose wrinkles, as her eyes light with amusement. “You eat like a pig.”

“I concede that I can be messy, but that’s only because I thoroughly enjoy eating.”

Pink washes over her cheeks, and she shoots me a pointed look. I deserve it; I wasn’t exactly subtle.

Killian snorts and shakes his head. “Dude, you should know better than to try sex jokes with Brenna. She has no sense of humor for them.”

Brenna’s spine straightens. “Excuse me? I am not a prude.”

“You are with us. At least when it comes to that,” he says with a shrug. “You hate it when we talk about sex in front of you.” Stupid man. Does he not know his cousin at all?

Brenna nods as if in understanding. “Ah. I see. So you’d like to hear about the last time a man made a meal of me? Because I must say, he completely devoured me, and it was indeed messy.”

Oh, hell.

Instantly, my mind flashes to the image of me kneeling on the floor between her spread thighs as I devoured her. My cock pushes insistently against my jeans. Despite my discomfort, I grin wide.

Not that Killian notices. He’s twisting his lips in a grimace. “Hell, Bren. You’re putting me off my tea.”

“Am I?” She shrugs delicately. “Funny, I find my appetite increasing.”

I can’t help it. I pick up a scone. “You want one with clotted cream?”

She catches my gaze and grins. “Yes, please.”

We both snicker as Killian throws his napkin on the table with a huff. “Fucking hell. I cannot handle it if you two finally start working together to piss me off.”

Brenna’s laughter dies a swift death, which kills mine too. Because she looks horrified that Killian might actually be thinking of us in terms of allies. I don’t know what to say, but it isn’t a great feeling. It’s far too close to actual rejection.

I fake a casual shrug and smear a big dollop of cream on the scone. “It’s easy enough pissing you off on my own.” Calmly I set the scone on Brenna’s plate.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

Then the unexpected happens: her fingers drift over my thigh under the table. The touch is fleeting yet distinct. My heart thumps hard in my chest. I’m so aware of her at this point that every time she moves, I catch the scent of her skin and hear the soft hitches in her breath.

Today, her fragrance smells of hot buttered cinnamon-sugar toast and strawberry jam. It makes me want to bury my nose in the crook of her neck and hold her forever.

Unable to help myself, I slowly move my hand up to the back of her chair, hidden from Killian’s watchful gaze. The sleek tip of her long ponytail tickles the tops of my fingers. Blandly reaching for another scone with my free hand, I use the moment to trail my fingers along the length of her ponytail.

She shivers delicately, and the downy hairs along the edge of her neck lift. Immediately, I get fully and achingly hard. I want to wrap my fist around that silken length of hair and hold on tight, work my hard cock into her tight, slick heat. I want to pleasure her body, watch her lips part and sigh my name.

As if she knows the direction of my thoughts, Brenna keeps her gaze firmly away from me. “Have you had enough of my sex talk?” she asks Killian.

“Totally,” he answers far too easily. Then he grins evilly. “Did I ever tell you about Libby’s favorite—”

“Keep going,” Brenna cuts in. “I’m certain Libby will want to hear all about you describing her sex life to me.”

That shuts him up in a hurry. He hunches over his tea with a surly frown. “It’s no fun when you call my bluff.”

I chuckle. “She’s got your number, man.”

He slides me a look filled with aggravation but then smiles. “Always has.” Lightning fast, he reaches out and musses Brenna’s hair, laughing when she squawks and swats him away. “Aw, come on, cuz, don’t be like that.”

“Ass,” she says, smoothing her hair. But there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes.

It hits me how close they are. Sometimes I forget about their connection. Mainly because we’re all so close. But as I am currently sneaking around and doing dirty things to Killian’s cousin, whom he thinks of as a sister, I’m suddenly feeling a twinge of uncomfortable guilt. Not because I think I need permission from Killian or anything; Brenna is her own person. But I’m lying to him, and he cares deeply about her.

Truth is, I don’t like lying to any of them.

Killian takes another sip of tea. “You know I actually invited you—not you”—he glances at me before returning to Brenna— “for a reason.”

“Hey,” I protest.

Killian’s expression turns quelling. “Dude, you couldn’t be bothered to show up for the last two band meetings, and you’re acting outraged because I didn’t expect you here?”

A thick, ugly blackness threatens to close down my throat. I swallow past it. “I told you, I had a headache.”

“Twice in one week?” His snort is dubious and annoyed. “And yet you’re here now. For the food.”

Heat invades my face. Brenna stares at me with a frown, but she doesn’t say a word. I’ve told her I have headaches. I’ve told them all. Evidently, that’s not going to fly. Even so, his implication that I care more about food than I do about the band sets my teeth on edge.

I lean forward, pinning him with a glare. “I didn’t say one fucking word when you went AWOL for an entire summer, drinking your ass off and dicking around. Not one fucking word.”

Killian hisses, but I speak over him. “Because I knew you needed to tap out for a while. Life is sloppy. Sometimes people can’t show. Now, are you going to give me the same courtesy I gave you or pull some diva rock star bullshit?”

Anger sparks in his eyes, and I know he’s about to blow. Good. I need to work off my own steam at this point. But then a cool, smooth hand lands on my forearm. I glance down to find Brenna is holding on to both my arm and Killian’s.

“Cool it,” she says briskly. “You guys hate fighting and will regret what you’ve said later.”