Mark broke the kiss, and Crystal let her legs slide down his body. She could only imagine how they must look to Denny. “I knew I’d regret letting you invite yourself to stay,” Mark grumbled as he threw a carrot at Denny. They teased each other good-naturedly while she settled at the bar, listening to them bicker. They were very much how she imagined brothers would be like. Mark blustered and scowled, but there was no real heat behind his words. It was obvious that they loved each other and had an easiness between them that spoke of the years they’d spent together.

When Denny came over to throw an arm around her, she smiled over her shoulder at him. “Oh, Crystal, the stories I could tell you about the man you were slobbering all over,” he teased.

“Denny,” Mark snapped with a clear warning in his voice.

“Ah, come on. Sharing is caring. We’ve had some funny moments through the years. Crystal would really get a kick out of the chick who tattooed your name on her—”

“Denny! I swear—”

“Not her?” Denny continued as if he wasn’t in the least concerned by Mark glowering at him from only inches away. “How about the one who sang that Britney song during the big event? What was it? ‘. . . Baby One More Time’? No, wait—‘I’m A Slave 4 U’! Shit, that one was funny.” By this point, both men, and she used that term loosely because they were behaving more like boys, were circling around the island. Mark was yelling threats and Denny was holding his sides while he continued with his trip down memory lane. “No—no, I’ve got it, the one you caught trying to make a mold of your—ouch! Dammit, I’m telling my mom that you hit me with a spatula. Your ass is in so much trouble!”

Crystal couldn’t help it; she doubled over in her seat, laughing until tears rolled down her cheeks. “How in the world,” she gasped out, “did that girl do that?” She wheezed.

Mark glared at Denny, who yelled, “Play-Doh,” as he ran to the living room for cover.

Mark held his hands up as if trying to plead his innocence. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just messing with you.”

Raising a brow, she teased, “So you’re saying that none of that actually happened, right?”

“Whoops, looks like dinner’s ready. Don’t want to let it burn,” he said hastily as he turned away and busied himself at the stove.

“Good save,” she said lightly, letting the topic go. Oddly enough, hearing about his encounters with other women didn’t really bother her that much. When Denny sidled back into the kitchen and gave her a wink, she felt like she’d passed some kind of initiation test by not overreacting to his stories. Even Mark gave her an easy grin when he set a steaming bowl of chicken stir-fry in front of her. If not for the way his gaze strayed to her breasts for a beat too long, she might have been afraid that she was officially one of the guys now, but it appeared there was no danger of that. As she sat joking and laughing with the two of them, she realized with a pang somewhere in the vicinity of her heart that it would be far too easy to become attached to these men—in fact, she was afraid that she already had grown rather attached.

• • •

Mark sat at the bar, sipping a glass of wine while Denny and Angel cleaned the kitchen and picked on each other like old friends. He wasn’t jealous in the least that his cousin was getting along so well with the woman in his life. Strangely, he felt the most peaceful he had in years. It wasn’t that he and Denny didn’t have meals together often. In fact, it was normal for one of them to cook dinner when neither of them had plans that evening. What was unusual was how seamlessly she fit in with them, as if she’d always been a part of their group. Denny liked Angel, he could tell—and not in a sexual way. His connection from the first had been more of that of a sibling.

After dinner, Crystal had dragged Denny up with her and demanded he help her clean since Mark had cooked for them. His cousin had put up a token argument, saying something about it being women’s work, which caused her to smack him lightly on the back of the head. Mark had smiled, both amused and, fuck it all, enchanted. That was what he was—charmed and entranced by her. He kept waiting for the overwhelming urge to push her away and move on, but it never came. Even when he’d freaked the previous night and had taken off after their talk about her ex-husband, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. He’d spent the day wanting to go to her but trying to resist. Until Denny told him to check his Twitter account. He’d been pissed to see something like that from her—then, strangely enough, he’d been upset that he’d hurt her. Because clearly she’d misinterpreted the cause of his abrupt departure.

He allowed himself to admit that he not only wanted to be in a relationship—he was in one with Crystal. Whether she knew it or not, all things Crystal Webber captivated him, and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon. When he thought of the future now, she was always there. He didn’t know what that meant, but seeing as he was sitting there calmly watching her flick water at his cousin and had no desire to run, he figured it was a good sign. He knew most people would consider this moving too fast. But to him, this was reaching for something that he’d never dreamed was possible. She was all goodness, light, and maybe even redemption, and he wanted it—needed it—because, after the first night with her had opened his eyes, he knew he couldn’t go back to the meaningless life he’d been living all these years.

A thump on his shoulder suddenly pulled him from his thoughts. Angel stood in front of him with a mischievous grin, holding a towel. Obviously, she’d swatted him with it. He greedily took in the sight of her, looking so content. He wanted to take her to the bedroom and lose himself in her for hours. From the flush spreading across her cheeks, she knew exactly what he was thinking. Never taking his eyes from her, he said, “Good night, Denny.” He heard his cousin laugh softly, but this time he held his playful comments and simply waved before leaving.