"Give it up for the men and women in blue. I love that place." Fender dug into his jeans pocket for his phone and rolled his eyes when he read the bright screen.

Landon leaned toward him, but Fender dragged the screen away. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just remembered I have to go."

"Hot date?" Daphne asked, amused when the screen in Fender's hand lit up once more.

Landon made a landgrab, snagging the phone and pulling it close. His forehead crinkled before he looked up at his brother. "You've been summoned to the bar."

"Why?" The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Daphne understood what was going on. "You don't have to leave. Even if someone's texting you from over there suggesting otherwise."

"Oh for fuck's sake." Landon shook his head. "I'm not even sure why we picked here."

"Supporting the local economy?" Fender offered helpfully.

"We can fix that real quick." Landon stood and had the money out of his back pocket before Fender could protest. "It's on me. And thanks for your help earlier."

Fender shifted his attention to Daphne, and at his megawatt smile she understood why more than a few women moped around Park Heights with broken hearts. "I'm glad we had a chance at dinner. My brother's a good guy and all, but you keep me in mind if things don't work out."

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Count on it."

Within moments, she and Landon were out on the street and wending their way through the neighborhood. Where their evening had been full of a fun, convivial air, their departure from the End Zone had been an almost frantic rush. "You sure you didn't want to say good-bye to Nick before we left?" Daphne asked.

"Dating isn't a spectator sport. He knows that. Hell, he lived it a freaking month ago."

"It's no big deal. I'm used to the fishbowl of family." She reached for his hand. "Speaking of which, I owe you a formal invitation to my parents' Fourth of July blowout."

"Sure. Yeah. Of course." Landon slowed, his long-legged strides from the restaurant finally easing up. "I saw your mom today. She formally invited me."

"You saw my mother?" Whatever puzzlement she'd carried at their hasty exit coalesced in her stomach, throwing her completely off guard and off her game. She'd seen his mother today but wasn't quite prepared to talk about it. "Like, today?"

"She was at Stewey's Diner at lunch, same as me. Came over and introduced herself and invited me."

"And you believed her?"

"About the invite?" Landon's confusion seemed genuine, so Daphne forced herself to take a quiet breath.

"No, about lunch. You think she just happened upon you?" When her questions brought no answers, Daphne pressed on.

"The woman has spies everywhere, planted all around the borough. Between her large family and all the extended family and friends she regularly seduces with her meatballs and special sauce and homemade lasagna, there's pretty much nothing this entire town wouldn't do for her."

"And you think that's how she knew where I was."

"Of course it was."

"So your mother is stalking me?"

Daphne almost accepted his confusion-almost-when she caught the deceptively innocent smile on his face. "Yes, she is. You're her latest object of interest, and she's got better game than a horde of paparazzi."

"Should I be scared?"

"Wary is more like it."

"Then that means you don't know I'm headed over to your parents' the day before the party to set up their outdoor audio system."

"Rory did that a few weeks ago."

"Apparently it needs fixing. Something about the volume inside not matching the outside, or the outside not getting any sound at all. Anyway," he shrugged, "I'll take a look at it."

"What else did my mother tell you?"

"I sort of lost track."

"Why?"

"She promised me meatballs if I came over and helped."

"Geez, you're cheap." Daphne was torn between elation Landon had passed some sort of unwritten test with her mother and panicked at that fact that Giavanna Rossi had hunted him down in the first place.

"Nah, I'm easy."

"What's the difference?"

Landon stopped them and pulled her close, his lips finding an unerring path to her ear. "Invite me in and I'll show you."

Fifteen.

The lights from Daphne's porch gave off a soft glow, spilling toward the small patch of grass that made up her front lawn. A few fireflies randomly lit the air, adding to the glow, and Landon marveled at the simplicity of the moment. The initial irritation that had clung to his heels as they made a hasty retreat from the End Zone faded, Daphne's presence easing his frustration.

Nick's text that had buzzed on their walk-apologizing for the nosy old lady routine-had finished the job.

He had a family. And while he was deeply grateful for that fact most days, every now and again they crawled up his ass and planted themselves there. From the sound of Nick's text, his brother was well aware of the mistake.

"You were quiet at dinner."

"I was taking in the Landon-and-Fender show."

"You mean the Fender show."

Daphne shook her head, tugging on his hand and pulling him toward her front steps. "No, I meant what I said. The Fender-and-Landon show. You make a great straight man to his shtick."

"We're not that bad."

She pulled him down so they sat side by side on the steps. "Oh, I don't know about that. I'd say the two of you have gotten that one down pat after more than two decades. I saw the same with Nick the other night. You're their foil."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's sort of like good cop, bad cop. When I go out with my partner we don't change up the routine all that much."

"Let me guess. You're good cop."

"I'm bad cop!"

"You're a badass cop. But I'm not sure I'd have pegged you as bad cop." Unreasonably amused at her affront, Landon pressed on. "So you take the bitch role and let your partner come off like Mr. Nice Guy?"

"Pretty much. It catches people off guard, you know, with me so angelic looking and all." She gave an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes. "More than that, it works because we work. Our style. Our rhythm and patter. Whether you realize it or not, you have that with your brothers."

The observation was amusing, but it also made an odd sort of sense. From the first, he and his brothers had a special type of communication. They understood each other. More than that, the three of them had recognized something in one another.

And in that recognition, they'd forged an unbreakable bond.

"I was a scrawny kid." He reached for her hand, laying palm to palm. "Surprising, I know."

"I bet you were cute."

"If you're into elbows, knobby knees, and big feet." He lifted one of his feet for emphasis. "But back to my tale. I had pretty good fight in me, what is commonly considered scrappy, but I was still small and skinny. I took my fair share of lumps before I met Nick and Fender. Neither of whom were small or scrawny."

"You ever take any from them?"

"From time to time, but we've always been tight. Fighting just hasn't ever been big in our wheelhouse. Insults and jokes, yes. Fights, not so much."

"I can see that. Especially since the Rossi boys did not subscribe to the same theory. If they couldn't beat on each other, they were screaming or throwing objects at one another. It's a weird sort of love I've never been able to describe."

"Back to your point. It's their style and it works for them."

"Yeah, I guess it sort of does."

Ambient street sounds filled the air, but underneath it all he heard the simple sound of their breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

So simple, sitting there together.

It was that simplicity that kept leaping up and grabbing him by the throat. He wanted her. The need was fierce, clawing at his belly, determined to have its way. Yet despite that-or perhaps because of it-he was also happy just to be in her presence. To breathe in and out, their bodies matched up side by side on the front porch steps.

Had he ever experienced anything like it?

The craziest, wildest needs of his body juxtaposed against the calm, smooth seas of companionship.

"How'd we get here?"

The husky tones floated to him on the night air. "Here?"

"Here. This moment. Together. Our lives have been overlapping for years, even if we hadn't realized it. Yet now. Suddenly-" She hesitated. "It feels like the time is finally right."

"I guess it is."

"But what if it isn't?" She shook her head, the long, waves of her hair shimmering in the dim light. Was that it? The real reason she'd been so quiet at dinner?

Yes, his brother had put on the show she'd described and Landon had quickly fallen in line, but she'd been quiet. Pensive, even. Before he could ask her, she amended her point.

"That didn't come out the way I meant it. I just mean we're on opposite sides."

"Of what?"

"Life. The situation with your company. Even the argument we had yesterday about the servers."

"Isn't that the push-pull? The good cop, bad cop you were talking about?"

"Or maybe it's just a sign we need to tread carefully."

Landon was about to argue when his afternoon visit over the bridge with Fender stopped him. Although neither of them had discussed not mentioning the visit, they'd both avoided the subject by unspoken agreement.

Was it omission? Personal business he simply didn't want to share? Fender's business he had no right to share? No matter how he twisted and turned it, all the possible reasons for remaining silent felt like cop-outs when he mentally played them out as an excuse not to tell Daphne.

"I met your mother today. Amber."

"You met-What?" The change in topic was so jarring Landon was off the porch and on his feet in an instant. "What are you talking about?"

"Today. I followed up on that lead. I had to question your mother on her whereabouts during the break-ins."

"You mean you had to question Amber on her whereabouts."

"Yes."

"Because she's running around Brooklyn dropping calling cards for other women on stolen servers?"

"I did it because it was an open lead that needed to be closed. Especially after she refused to return my phone calls."

"What the hell are you trying to do to me?"

Just like that, the easy moments vanished, the two of them were back on opposite sides. "Do to you? Landon. I'm trying to help you."

"Bullshit. I already told you yesterday I'd seen her. I told you what I knew, yet you still sought her out?"

"It's my job."

"Fuck your job! What about me?"

"What about you? This is all about you. About finding out who broke into your business."

"I don't think so. I think it's all about you. Your curiosity and whatever peek you want into my past. It's not good enough that I want to keep that one hands off. Oh no. Instead, we have a good, sweaty round of sex, and you're already trying to get inside my head and probe around for details."