Page 94 of To Have and To Hold
“You should call Z,” he suggested. “See if they’ve had dinner. They can meet us.”
Reese untangled their fingers and grabbed his phone. Evidently, he thought that was a good idea.
Brantley was pulling into the parking lot when Reese’s phone buzzed.
Reese huffed a laugh. “They’re already here.”
His phone buzzed again.
“He said they’ve got room at their table.”
Perfect.
With thoughts of the missing rings set aside for a while, Brantley got out of the truck and walked with Reese and Tesha into the diner. Thursday nights were busy because of their weekly special. Catfish was a favorite around these parts and had become a big lure for the small establishment.
Brantley skimmed the restaurant and found RT and Z sitting at a table with—
“Your mom’s here. With Hugh,” he told Reese, nudging his shoulder. “And my mom and dad. Who’s the other guy?”
Reese looked in the direction Brantley was staring.
“Mark,” he said with a grumble.
Brantley tried to hold back the amused grin. “Thethird?” He laughed. “ThatMark?”
“Shut it,” Reese snapped.
Well, this was definitely going to be interesting. Brantley had met Cindy’s boyfriend, Hugh Weston, back when Uncle Toby had kidnapped Cindy. Well, kidnapped wasn’t really the right word since it turned out Cindy had gone with him willingly. But it was during that mess that Reese learned that his mother had a penchant for threesomes. Back when Reese’s dad had been alive, Toby was their third. Now, according to Cindy, Hugh’s friend Mark held that honor.
And here they all were. Coming to the wedding.
“Don’t. Mention. The rings,” Reese hissed under his breath as he led the way.
Brantley grinned. “I won’t. Promise.”
He could think of a dozen other things he’d prefer to discuss.
“And don’t youdareask how they got together?”
He laughed, earning a glare from Reese. “No promises on that one.”
Thiswas gonna be fun.
***
Slade got home shortly after six.
He’d stayed at HQ late, pretending he had work to do.
In all fairness, hedidhave work to do. Just nothing pressing enough to keep him there until after everyone else left. However, he’d told himself he needed to since he came in late this morning. It was a lie. He didn’t have a quota to meet. Nor was he bound by a time clock to make a paycheck. They worked when there were jobs to do. Most of the time, that was closer to seventy hours a week than forty, so times like this—when they had some downtime—were a luxury. He should’ve been taking advantage of that.
Instead, he was too chickenshit to go home. More specifically, he was too chickenshit to face Atticus after what happened in his bed this morning. Slade had spent the better part of the day reliving it in his mind, recalling every detail with vivid clarity. Not only about how he’d fucked Atticus while Carson remained a couple of feet away, either. Oh, no. It wasn’t that simple. He couldn’t simply think about how that must’ve driven Carson mad. Forced to sit there and watch.
Nope. Slade’s thoughts drifted to the way Atticus had then pleasured Carson afterward. The way he had bobbed up and down on his dick. His cock thickened every fucking time he thought about it. It pissed him off that he had enjoyed that part so damn much, but he had. Too much. He wanted a replay. That was the short of it. Slade wanted another round with Atticus and Carson.
He told himself it was because there was no way he had enjoyed it as much as he thought he had. No way. More than likely, he’d still been drunk, and his mind had been altered just enough to process it as a good thing. God knows he’d had enough liquor in him to last a couple of days. Granted, it hadn’t been nearly enough to make him forget the encounter with Jennifer at Moonshiners. The fact she’d spent the entire day blowing up his phone hadn’t helped either.
Slade walked into the house, partly expecting to find Atticus on the couch, watching television, waiting for him to get home.
