“This is why we don’t take you anywhere,” Wyatt intoned from somewhere behind him. “No sense of personal space.”
“Or decency,” Noah added. “Stop perving on your cousin’s husband.”
“Like you two know about personal space. Don’t firemen sleep together?” Rory’s voice was fading, but his mischievous tone was pissing Owen off. “Anyway, they aren’t married yet, and I hear he’s hung like a bull. I was just curious.”
Jeremy and Owen’s eyes met at that and held, remembering. Jeremy smiled before reaching into the dresser and throwing Owen’s favorite sweatpants in his direction. “Come on. Walk me to the door.”
His fiancé picked up his stuffed gym bag and a winter jacket. Owen knew both of their wedding tuxedos were already pressed and hanging at Declan’s house, and all the other details in Jeremy’s wedding binder were checked off and taken care of. There’d be no reason for him to come back before the big event. “Badass is going to miss you.”
Jeremy turned and walked backwards down the hallway. “As long as he doesn’t get drunk on beer again or throw up all over the couch because you left takeout containers on the coffee table, he’ll live. He won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“He’ll notice.” I’ll notice. “If Tasha hires a stripper I’m writing her out of the will.”
His smile was telling. “You think the Senator’s wife—who is currently an invalid propped up on pillows with two buns in one oven—is going to invite a male stripper into her home to give me a lap dance?”
Owen’s glare was pointed. “Yes.”
“I’m not saying she wouldn’t.” Jeremy held up his hands, conceding. “But if she did no one told me about it. Maybe she’ll just have Ken do one of his rope demos for us. In this family, that’s practically G-rated.”
“He’ll answer to me if he does.”
Jeremy tsked. “So you get to have all the fun, is that what you’re saying? Is this what marriage is going to be like with you? What’s good for the goose isn’t good for the other goose?”
Noah, already sprawled on the couch with a gaming controller in his hand, snorted loudly, drawing Owen’s gaze. Wyatt was carrying four six-packs to the kitchen and Rory was rolling around on the floor with the dog. He shook his head and turned back to Jeremy. “Please don’t leave me alone with these children, goose. I’ll strip for you right here.”
“Please don’t.” Rory sat up, wiping his dog-kissed face with a grin. “And stop being such a baby. The four biggest troublemakers of the family are together without adult supervision. It sounds like a party to me.”
Jeremy hesitated. “You’re in charge, Noah. Don’t make me regret it. If you end up in jail or Owen doesn’t make it to the wedding? You’ll be responsible.”
Noah didn’t look away from the screen, but his easy nod made his short blond curls bounce. “You got it, Porter. Now go get your freak on with Team Jeremy. I hear the stripper they got for you dresses like a construction worker and he’s packing a socket wrench that rivals your own.”
“What?” Rory frowned at Noah’s head. “Can I change teams?”
“Thought you did that years ago.” Wyatt cracked himself up.
Noah smirked. “Too late. You’re staying with us for the duration. We’re with the groom.”
“But—”
“No, Rory.” Noah and Wyatt responded together, making Jeremy laugh.
Owen let him pull him to the door, away from his cousins. “Relax. I’m sure his socket wrench has nothing on yours,” Jeremy assured him, his expression softening. “But I really do have to go if we’re going to pull this off by Christmas Eve.”
They came together for a kiss that went from gentle and loving to breathless and erotic in a heartbeat. All Owen could think about was finishing where they left off before they were interrupted. But when the catcalls and helpful hints from his cousins got louder, he lifted his lips with a sigh. “Does this traditional separation allow phone calls?”
“I’ll call you tonight.” Jeremy lifted the collar of his jacket against the snow and slipped out the door quickly, trying not to let too much cold air inside. “Love you.”
Owen shivered, still shirtless as the door closed behind him. “Me too.”
Chapter Two
“This is bad.” Wyatt’s comment made Owen turn away from the door.
“What?”
“I don’t know what the man-love equivalent of pussy-whipped is—”
“Dick-smacked?” Rory threw out helpfully. “Dong-flogged?”
“Thanks.” Wyatt smirked. “The favored son of the house of Finn is officially dick-smacked. Staring at the door like you haven’t been living in each other’s back pockets for most of your lives. Like you’re not going to see him day after tomorrow.” He shook his head. “You used to be a player, buddy. A legend. I never saw it coming.”
“I know,” Rory sighed mournfully. “We were the dynamic duo. Now I’m the only legend left.”
“Did you say only?” Wyatt sounded offended.