“Sometimes,” Jake said.

His words were like another one of his perfectly-placed blows in the ring. Except I didn’t have the luxury of the ropes at my back to catch me. We were in the middle of a fancy restaurant, for God’s sake, was he really saying what it seemed?

A glance at Owen found him frowning at his brother. What had he meant?

Luckily, the hawk-nosed waitress chose this time to arrive.

“Table for Powers?”

Jake flashed his pearly whites. “That’s the one.”

Almost imperceptibly, his hand slid to the small of my back, guiding me after our waitress.

After watching his fight, I was all adrenaline myself. That was partially what had gotten me agreeing to this in the first place, even amidst the prickles of hesitation. If both Owen and Jake were into me, and I was into both of them, how was this going to work out?

“Do I have to dust it off for you?” Owen joked.

Coming to, I realized we were now at our table, and he’d pulled a chair out for me.

“It’s just because I didn’t pull it out,” Jake said.

My gaze was on the booth that the other half of the table was. “Would you mind if I sat over here?”

“Knock yourself out,” Owen said, quickly positioning himself on the booth, being sure to leave a space for me.

As I sat down, Jake huffed his displeasure loudly. Although when he sat across from me, he was sure to position his feet right next to mine.

I turned my gaze to Owen. “Has he always been like this?”

“Cocky?” he asked. “No. But he’s always been the bigger asshole. Being more responsible when you’re the older brother comes with the territory.”

Jake slid a pepper shaker Owen’s way. “A regular martyr, my ‘big’ bro,” he said, using his fingers to make air quotations around the word ‘big’.

His gaze softened. “Seriously though, I owe this guy a lot. When he hurt his hand, I thought that was it for him being involved in boxing. Instead, he became my manager and things went from good to hell-yeah great.”

Owen gave his head an uncomfortable shake, but Jake wouldn’t be put off. “Seriously man. Don’t downplay it. The whole managing business world is a big fat mystery to me, but you somehow figured it out.”

“What happened to your hand?” I asked Owen. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

He placed his right hand on the table ahead of him, gazing at it as if the memories were etched on its very knuckles.

“Boxing accident. Some guy had a grill, I didn’t know and ended up shattering all the bones in it. I needed plates and I can’t box anymore, but it works pretty ok at least.” He flexed it.

There was something rehearsed about the way he said the words, as if he’d said them a hundred times by now.

“So you were both boxers?” I asked.

“Yeah, in the Army,” Owen answered.

“Both soldiers too? That’s impressive. No wonder you have such a strong sense of decency. Like when you punched that asshole Paul out in the bar for messing with my drink.”

“Yeah, well not everyone thinks us joining up was so impressive,” Jake said with a scowl.

I wanted to ask what he meant by that – was it a girlfriend, a family member – but I knew if I dug too far, I might be asked to divulge more about myself than I was ready to in reciprocation. So I kept my curiosity to myself.

As if reading my thoughts, Jake’s laser-focused gaze trained on me. “What about you – what’s your story?”

“What do you mean?”

He lips quirked to the side, his gaze not moving. “I don’t know. I feel like you know a lot more about us than we know about you.”

“I can be a pretty private person,” I admitted.

“In other words, screw off,” Owen translated for him.

We laughed, then I said. “I don’t know. I’ve been a nurse for five years now. I’ve got an older sister, great parents. I don’t like hyacinths as much as my mother apparently does.”

They blinked at me for a second before they cracked up.

“Well, this is awkward,” Owen said, reaching into his suit pocket.

When he produced the pendant, Jake threw back his head and guffawed. “What is this, second grade?”

“You gave pendants to girls in second grade?” I asked him.

Although my attention was on the little necklace Owen had pressed into my palm. Sure enough, the embossed silver was in the shape of a hyacinth.

“I don’t hate hyacinths,” I clarified quickly, although he was already smiling ruefully. “It’s just that I guess I don’t like the reason I was named it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s kind of a dumb story, but yeah. My mom said it was my dad who’d named me. Apparently, he took one look at my four-pound body and said, “She’s so fragile, like a little hyacinth.”

“Your dad knew what a hyacinth was?” Jake asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Yeah, I thought that part was weird too. But apparently he did.” I shifted in my seat. “Anyway, the thing I don’t like about it is the whole fragile part.”

“What’s wrong with being fragile?” Owen asked.

“If you’re fragile, there’s always the possibility you’ll break,” I said quietly.

It occurred to me that I was being morbid and dragging down what was supposed to be Jake’s celebration dinner, so I flashed them a smile. “Drinks are on me, if you boys are up for it.”

“Oh, we’re up for it,” Jake said, grinning. Under the table, his leg found mine, and lightly rested against it. “But drinks are on us – or on the Shore Club, remember?”

Owen signaled to our waiter and ordered us some drinks. I was glad for the distraction. Once again, I’d been too close to telling them about the car accident. And that was one tale I wanted to put off as long as humanly possible. I’d already had enough pity to last me the rest of my life, not to mention that talking about it still hurt.

“I have to admit,” Jake was saying, eyeing me. “When I asked your story, I think I was trying to figure out why you were still single.”

“What, hoping for me to come out and say I secretly own fifty-seven cats?” I teased.

“No.” Jake chuckled. “But now that you mention it.”

“No, I don’t have fifty-seven cats. I don’t even have a dog,” I said. I swallowed thickly. No way was I going to come out and mention how after the accident, I hadn’t been able to connect with anyone until them.

“I could ask the same thing of you,” I said, eager to turn the tables on them and shift the focus of the conversation onto something other than myself. “Two good-looking successful guys like yourselves still single. How come?”

“Why thank you,” Jake said in a female-esque voice, fluttering his lashes.

“Can’t speak for this guy” -Owen thumbed to Jake- “But for me it’s pretty simple. I haven’t found the right girl yet.”

Something in his eyes told me that once again there was more to the story, but I left it at that, shifting my gaze to Jake.

“Me?” he said. “I’ve had my fair share of psycho girlfriends, thank you very much. Staying single now for the foreseeable future is a-ok with me.”

“In other words,” Owen said, smiling blandly as he dipped his lips to my ear, although his whisper was loud enough for Jake to hear. “He’s afraid.”

“Yeah, well you’d be afraid too,” Jake shot back. “After all, it was Amelia who almost had us estranged for months.”

“She said Jake spent too much time hanging out with me,” Owen explained with a light laugh.

“More like she wanted me to be at her beck and call 24-7.” Jake frowned with just the memory. “I had a few fights that I’d tell her about, where she’d be texting me wondering when I’d be back, whining and bitching away. And then-” he paused mid-sentence, smiling ruefully. “Sorry. Bad form complaining about your exes. Suffice to say that she’s a lovely person who is much lovelier at a distance.”

I laughed. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”

“Believe me, she wouldn’t be putting it like that at all. But I digress.”

Just then, our drinks were set down.

“Better late than never,” Owen said, lifting his. “To Jake’s win, in the ring and out.”

I clinked, although I couldn’t shrug the odd feeling I had away completely.

“So getting me here is a win?”

Jake squinted at me. “Is that a trick question?”

I took a larger gulp of my drink to hide my flaming cheeks. The cool of the glass under my fingertips was a bit relieving. All of me was flushing hot and cold, while I had the distinct sensation of being in a dreamworld, where the tide was pulling me into the complete unknown.

“So are you a leg girl?” Jake asked me.

“Come again?”

“Are you a wing girl or a leg girl?” Jake repeated, indicating the menu.

“Either,” I said.

“Great,” Jake said. “We’ll get both.”

“And some celery and carrot sticks,” Owen said.

“Yes, Grandad,” Jake said with a sigh.

Owen smiled thinly. “You get fat and start losing, neither of us gets paid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake said.

Under the table, when he had said ‘leg’, Jake’s leg had bobbed into mine. While I’d initially thought it a fluke, his leg was now resting against mine, his heat sending shocks of sensation up my thighs.

Meanwhile, Owen’s foot was against mine, his knee brushing against my other one every so often in the conversation, almost as if casually.

I closed my eyes, inhaled. Cool it, Cin. So what if all of me was aching from the desert of touch-less torture these past few years had been? Didn’t mean I needed to jump into bed the first chance I had with the first guys I happened to like.

When the food arrived, luckily talk dissolved under the eating-fest our table descended into. As it turned out, both fighting and managing a fight gave you a killer appetite, since both Owen and Jake ate with the appetites of men twice their size. Although I didn’t hold back either. Maybe it was nerves or just sheer hunger (in my hurry to get ready, I hadn’t had time for dinner), but I was definitely eating my fair share.

“Here, try this,” Jake said.

Next thing I knew, a chicken wing was pressing against my lips. My gaze caught his. His dropped to my mouth. I bit down, my gaze falling. “Delicious, is that…”

“Mustard, it’s my secret sauce.”

“How is it secret if you tell everyone about it?” Owen pointed out.

“Oh shut up. You’re just pissed because you layer boring-ass ketchup onto everything.”

No sooner had I mostly finished the mustard-covered wing, then was Owen nudging me.

“Check this out.”

The next second, another sauce-covered wing was pressing into my lips. Deja-vu trembled through me as I parted my lips, allowing him to slip it in. Our gazes locked.

“Good, am I right?” he said, his gaze not shifting.

I bit down, letting the sweet thickness invade my palate before declaring, “Delicious.”

“More delicious?” Jake said, his eyes issuing a challenge to mine.

I paused. Beside me, Owen had stiffened, his eyes holding their own challenge now. Yes, there was a question behind Jake’s question, one that went far deeper than which wing topping I preferred. One that I was still unsure of.

“Back in a minute,” Owen said, getting up and heading off to the bathroom.

“Score,” Jake said.

He wasted no time in getting up and coming over to sit beside me. Unlike Owen, he left no space between our bodies. His heat pressed through his clothes, clutched at me.

“Been wanting to get a few moments alone with you all meal.”

“Oh yeah?” was all I could say. Feigning nonchalance right now was the best I could do. Jake had to know the effect he had on women, and I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how wet my panties were right now.

Under the table, his hand went to my jean-covered thigh. I stifled a gasp, although I was grateful for the cover of the tablecloth. Holding my face forward so that I wouldn’t give into looking at him no longer seemed possible.

As my face slowly, painstakingly turned to face his, I said, “Jake.”

“You’re right,” he said, his breath inching toward my mouth. “Too forward.”

Before I knew what was happening, his lips were meeting mine and all further thought stalled. All there was were the demand of those firm lips, giving and taking. His tongue parted the seam of my lips and flowed in easily. His fingertips were kissing the top of my thigh, drawing designs, making my mouth gasp kisses into his.

When he pulled away, I was practically panting.

“Enjoying yourselves?”

At the sound of Owen’s forced jokey tone, I felt like sinking under the table and never getting up again.

“It’s fine,” he said, sitting down. “This way I have all the food to myself.”

My mind struggled dully to find something to say, but Jake wasn’t making it easy for me. His hand hadn’t moved from my thigh and, still blocked by the tablecloth, was stroking its way higher and higher, kneading my flesh deeper and deeper.

All of me felt like one inevitable onward pulse. I was so horny, part of me wanted to feel the slick seat below me to ensure I wasn’t going to leave a wet spot when I got up. But, under the hypnotizing effect of Jake’s skillful fingers, my thoughts glazed as much as my vision did.

As Jake’s fingers climbed higher, up to my pussy, only divided by two layers now, Owen coughed and I broke free. Sliding over, I gaped at him.

“Sorry, I-” I stammered. I stood up. “I should be going. It’s late.”

Owen glanced at his Rolex. “Guess 9:30 is late for a nurse.”

Jake wasn’t so easily convinced. “So soon? We didn’t even order any entrees.”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” I said, determined to keep my gaze on anywhere but him.

“Let us drive you home at least,” Jake said, rising.

I shook my head firmly. “No, I’d rather just call a taxi, thanks. But thank you, both of you. The dinner was very generous.”

Jake rose, his jaw tensed. “You’re just going to leave like this?”

I lifted my chin so my gaze finally met his once more. “Yes, I am.”

As I walked out of the restaurant, I regretted my choice already. But it was too late – my impulsiveness had gotten me this far and I wasn’t about to back down now.

It was only once I was in the familiarity of my apartment that I let self-doubt creep in. Why had I had to freak out like that? It wasn’t like Jake did anything I hadn’t wanted him to. Sinking onto my couch, a sigh fell from my lips.

That was precisely the problem – just how much I had wanted for Jake to kiss me and touch me and keep on touching me once he started. Before, being in the twins’ presence had hinted at an attraction I hadn’t felt for years. But the molten reality of that kiss – there was no doubting it. I really liked Jake. And it terrified me.

I went over to my room, to the closet where I kept it. Taking down the box from the shelf was easy, the framed picture of us was the only thing in it. With the picture in my hands, I went over to my bed and collapsed onto it.

The couple in the picture looked happy. The kind of happy that hurt to look at if you hadn’t felt it for a while. Their arms were around one another, their eyes were lit up with true love. They had no idea of the accident that would come in just two months.

I traced my finger over Brent’s face, his shaggy hair and crooked smile. Yes, the last time I’d loved and lost, I’d barely gotten through it. Did I dare to take the same chance now?