“It was the night you were gone to your sister’s art show.”
“Figures.” Rodrigo sighed.
“You know what that means.”
Rodrigo’s handsome face brightened. “You think she’s ready for DP.”
“What? No, I most certainly am not!”
; They kept talking over her head, making plans to defile her sometime soon, as though she wasn’t right there listening and voicing her objections.
“Did you hear something?” Rodrigo asked as they re-entered the bar.
“I heard a lot of things,” said Severin, the ghost of a smile curling the corner of his lips. “None of them was her safeword.”
Chapter Three
“What’s with the face?” Fidel asked, circling Rodrigo as he looked for an opening.
It was hard to say who was bigger now, considering how much they both worked out, but in Rodrigo’s mind, his brother would always be half his size and goofy looking, with his shoe untied, wearing Rodrigo’s secondhand clothes. Instead, it was possible they were an even match in size, and Fidel hadn’t worn a secondhand anything since he’d landed his first role as an actor.
“What face? It’s just my face, douchebag.”
Fidel straightened and backed a step, stripping his dark hair back from his eyes with an impatient hand. “You’re distracted. You’re going to get hurt if you’re not paying attention, then I’ll have no one to work out with and I’ll get fat.”
“You’re the vainest man I know.”
“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” Fidel waggled his perfectly sculpted brows. As well kept as Rodrigo was, compared to Fidel he was low maintenance.
“I don’t hate you because you’re beautiful. I hate you because you’re a fucking prick.”
“It’s part of my brand,” he said, feinting left and taking a jab at Rodrigo’s shoulder. He connected, but it glanced off rather than landing squarely, stealing most of the impact. “Let me guess – a girl?”
He didn’t respond. He wasn’t entirely wrong.
Rodrigo dodged back and forth, advancing, backing his brother almost to the fence before throwing a punch at his perfectly symmetrical face. Rather than damage Fidel’s main asset, he held the punch inches from the bridge of his nose, letting him know that even though they were matched in size, Rodrigo was still to be respected.
“Fuck.” Fidel laughed long and low, then pushed Rodrigo’s fist aside. “Good thing your hatred for me is tempered with a fear of Mama’s wrath.”
Rodrigo grabbed his towel and wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. It was good he’d gotten the last shot in before the end of the match. It had been close, but there was no doubt who’d won now.
“You two need to chill out and start playing video games or something,” Mayte said, peeking her head out the door and shaking her head in mock disapproval. Their sister would have been in on the action if she weren’t heavily pregnant with her second little brat. “Dinner is ready. Mama said to put some clothes on before you come to her table. Be quiet when you come in, though. Santiago is having a nap, thank God.”
“We’re gentlemen,” Fidel called back. “Of course we’ll be presentable.”
Hurriedly, they dried off then dressed in fresh clothing. A shower would have been ideal, but they always lost track of time when they were sparring, and being late for dinner was a capital offense in their mother’s house.
“So what then, if it’s not about a girl. Him again?”
Rodrigo threw his brother a withering look.
“There are other dicks out there, if that’s what you want. It’s not like you don’t have options, and it’s been what – six years? Eight? You are firmly in the friendzone.”
He held up a hand, hoping to silence his brother in case someone else came outside. Surprisingly, he dropped the subject and went ahead into the house.
As wealthy as her children had become, Mama still lived in the house they’d grown up in. They’d tried to move her into a nicer place, but she loved her garden, the trees their papa had planted for her, and her nosy neighbors. Half her joy of living came from neighborhood gossip and bragging about her kids, even if her boys were childless and unmarried. She always had plans to fix the latter.