I’ve driven by this place a hundred times in my life but never stopped. As soon as I step foot in Hillary’s House, it’s everything I thought it would be—an uppity place that tries so hard not to be. It’s like when we go to a fast food place and get the triple burger with bacon and curly fries instead of the burger that costs a buck off the discount menu… only in reverse. It’s our way of feeling fancy. This is their way of feeling like an everyday man. Someone just needs to clue them in that the everyday man doesn’t walk around in loafers or pearls.

A stillness settles over me, causing my palms that were a little sweaty to dry, as I spot what has to be her brothers at a table in the back. This happens before I walk into the ring. It’s a silence that trickles from the top of my head, through my chest, over my gut, and down to my feet. It washes through my veins and allows me to focus on the task, or men, at hand.

Some fighters get amped up, go nuts, before the bell rings. Not me. It’s a waste of energy. I need all of mine on the job to be done. Especially today.

Cam gives me a reassuring look as we make our way through the restaurant. There’s a sparkle in her eye, one I see often when she talks about her family. It’s fascinating. The idea of having a family as close-knit as the Landry’s is completely alien to me. She has friends, like Joy, but the stories she shares are always of her sister or one of her brothers or one of their wives.

We approach the table and I set my gaze on the two men. I’ve seen them before on television for different things, mostly charity events and political campaigns. At the moment, I wish I’d paid more fucking attention.

This is not my element, and it’s both of them versus me. If I didn’t have this loan bullshit on my mind and all of the related complications, I’d feel better about this.

Ford and Lincoln look enough alike to undeniably be brothers, yet one is wider and blonder and the other leaner and darker. The blond one laughs, shaking his head at the other as we approach.

“Hey, guys,” Camilla says. The forced cheeriness goes unmissed by all of us. Their heads whip up, doing a quick fly-by of Cam and then land on me. “Dominic, this is Ford,” she says pointing to the lighter-haired one. “And this is Lincoln.”

“Hey, Dominic,” Ford says, standing. He’s about my height and weight with a clean look about him. There’s no doubt he’s assessing me, but he’s classy enough about it. “Nice to meet you, man.”

“Same here.”

We exchange a firm handshake and courteous, yet guarded nods, as we take our seats. My chest tingles, burning with the anticipation of what’s to come. It’s the same sensation I experience as I wait for the referee to start a fight. It’s the unknown, not sure what will be coming your way but knowing you better be bringing your A-game because your opponent sure as hell is.

Camilla settles in to my right as I finish my introductions. I flash her the best smile I can, maybe for more my own reassurance than hers, before resting my eyes on Lincoln.

He’s sitting across from me, a wide smirk on his face. Holding back a chuckle, because that won’t get me anywhere, I’d put money that’s the exact face that made Nate want to send Lincoln’s teeth across the bar.

“Lincoln,” I say, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He shakes my hand, his grip stronger than it needs to be. I return it with as much force as he’s giving plus another couple pounds per square inch. The fucker grins. “Dominic, was it?”

“Yeah. Dominic Hughes.”

“Where have I heard that name before?”

I shrug, sitting down. “Who knows? It’s a small world.”

He nods again, this time looking up as the waitress slips between him and his sister. “What can I get y’all?”

“I’ll have a water, please, Lola,” Ford says. “No lemon.”

Cam takes the menus from the raven-haired waitress with a smile and passes them around the table. “Me, too.”

“What about you, Linc?”

“Water.”

“Make it four,” I chime in, watching Lola’s eyes glitter as they meet mine.

My stomach twists and turns as I feel the Landry eyes peering at me, waiting for me to fuck up. Lola is attractive. There’s no doubt about that. But she’s not what’s sitting next to me, and anything compared to Cam loses.

“You aren’t a Landry,” Lola grins.

“No, he isn’t,” Camilla says with a little more force than necessary. “Lola, this is Dominic. Dom, this is Lola.”

We exchange hellos, cut brief by Cam’s grabbing my hand under the table and locking our fingers together. I smile at the touch as I watch her place them next to our silverware with a pointed glance Lola’s way.

If we were alone and I wasn’t trying to keep my head about me, I’d find it incredibly hard not to give her hell about this. My lips would be on her as soon as Lola walks away, the demonstration more of a turn-on than I can muster.

Satisfied that I’m taken, Lola traipses towards the kitchen. Lincoln snickers.

“Is this Swink’s version of going caveman?” he cracks. “I think you were almost hateful with that. I kind of like it.”

“Hush,” she glares at him. Her cheeks go rosy, her hand slowly slipping from mine. “Don’t be an ass, Linc.”

“That’s like asking the sky not to be blue,” Ford scoffs.

“Well, fuck you too,” Lincoln says, continuing on with some inside joke the three of them laugh at that I don’t understand.

Instead, I sit back in my chair in wonderment. It’s like being at a table in a foreign land full of customs and exchanges you haven’t seen before. It’s like Nate and I, but on a whole other level, like what Nate and I and Joey could’ve been if Joey hadn’t been run over, our mother wasn’t weak, and our father not a useless son of a bitch.

Cam elbows me in the side, making me jump. “What?” I ask.

“I was just asking you what you do for a living,” Ford says.

“Oh, sorry,” I say, clearing my throat. “I work for Monstone Repair.”

“That’s heating and cooling, right?” Ford asks.

“Yeah. That’s my nine-to-five,” I say, wondering if they even know what that truly is. “I also bartend some at my brother’s bar.”

Lincoln leans forward, his athletic reflexes on full display. “The Gold Room?”

“Yeah.”

“You resemble the guy we met down there. What was his name?” he asks, turning to Ford. “You know who I mean? The guy behind the bar.”

“Nate,” Ford and I say at the same time.

“That’s my brother,” I continue. “He said you were in a while back.”

Lincoln reclines in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He twists his lips before smacking them open. “Dominic, your brother is kind of a dick.”

“He can be. But, funnily enough,” I say, looking him right in the eye, “he said the same thing about you.”

Ford laughs as Lola places glasses of ice water in front of each of us. She then scribbles down our order and leaves again—this time with no ogling.

“I kind of want to revisit this Nate thing,” Lincoln says, leaning against the table with his jaw set in stone. The look he gives me ramps my blood pressure. I feel my fingers automatically moving, stretching, readying themselves for a fight should it happen.

“Let’s move this conversation along before it becomes a giant pissing match,” Cam sighs. “Ford, what did you do today?”

“Not a lot,” he says, trying to navigate everything around him. “I worked some. Going golfing after this.”

“You golf?” Lincoln asks me.

“Uh, no.”

“That’s too bad.”

“And why is that?”

“I’d love to beat your ass on the golf course,” he grins.

“You fight?” I volley back, not about to let him think he got one over on me.

“Fight what?”

“Men.”

My response isn’t what he expected and it’s clear he isn’t sure exactly what I mean. “Not in a while.”

“Oh my goodness, stop it,” Camilla chirps. “Ford, make them stop.”

“I kind of want to see where this goes,” he laughs.

As they banter back and forth, Lincoln and I don’t take our eyes off each other. It’s not a two-seconds-away-from-pounding-the-other’s-face kind of thing, but rather a don’t-push-me-because-I-shove-back kind of thing.

“If you ever want to test that, I train at Percy’s downtown. I’d love to do a couple of rounds with ya,” I smirk.

“Percy’s, huh?” Ford asks.

Before I can respond, Lincoln is cutting in. “I might have to take you up on that.”

“Oh, the hell you will,” Ford laughs. “I’m not going to save your ass if you walk head-first into a fight club.”

Lincoln looks at him like a scorned puppy. “For real? You have to take my balls right here?”

“Danielle took your balls a long time ago,” Ford chuckles, clapping him on the shoulder.

“You guys are so embarrassing,” Camilla mumbles.

I look over at her. She’s shaking her head, watching the salt shaker like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. The way her cheeks are a little pink makes me want to reach out and kiss her.

Instead, I reach for her hand beneath the table. Her head turns to mine and a slow, soft smile spreads on her lips as our fingers interlace.

“It’s okay,” I mouth to her as her brothers banter between themselves.

She gives my hand a squeeze, her dainty palm almost encased by mine. Then, in a flash of movement, her shoulders throw back and she lifts her chin.

“Hey,” she projects, her voice clear. “Can you guys hush for just a second?”

My stomach flips as I send her a questioning look. I have no idea what she’s doing but she’s doing something. She drops my hand and sits up in her seat.

“I want to say something,” she says, clearing her throat. “I don’t think this is particularly any of your business, but Dominic has suggested it’s the right thing to do.”

“What’s wrong, Swink?” Ford asks.

“Nothing is wrong. I just have a little announcement that I want to make and then forget—”

Lincoln’s palms smack against the table, the contents shaking at the force. “You’re fucking pregnant!” His jaw drops as he looks at Camilla and then, menacingly, at me. “Percy’s tomorrow,” he growls.

“My Lord, Lincoln,” Camilla laughs. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Thank fuck,” Ford exhales, slumping in his seat. “I was starting to side with Lincoln on this fighting thing.”

“Okay, hold up real quick,” I cut in. “What if she was pregnant? Would that have been the worst thing to happen?”

“Yes,” they say in unison.

“Okay, no,” Ford says, giving Lincoln a look to shut up. “It wouldn’t have been, and I’m sorry if that sounded really disrespectful to you. That’s not how we meant it.”

“That’s how it sounded,” I shoot back.

Ford and Lincoln exchange a look much in the same way Nate and I do, before Ford squares his shoulders to me. “Look, this is really hard for us. Swink is our baby sister, and aside from that one kid with frat boy hair, she’s never really brought a guy around us before. We just want what’s best for her.”

“And don’t you think I know what’s best for me?” she asks. “I appreciate you guys, Ford. I do. Sincerely. But …” She looks at me, the vulnerability in her eyes something I can’t resist. It’s not a sign of weakness this time. It’s a need of support, a silent plea to give her a hand.

“I get what you’re saying,” I say, blowing out a breath. “We’re in the same boat. I want what’s best for her too.”

She takes my hand again, but I don’t look her in the eye. I can’t. Truth be told, I don’t know what’s best for her. Not really.

“I can tell you all what’s best for me. Right now it’s Dominic. Maybe it will be Dominic for a long time, I don’t know.” She moves her hair to one shoulder and looks at Ford. “I’ve learned by watching you guys and by going through things myself that you can’t predict what’s going to happen. Look at you and Ellie.”

Ford grins and I wish I knew what they were talking about, but I don’t.

“I’ve let you guys kind of … guide me for my whole life,” she says softly. “I love having four big brothers. I always have. You were rock stars to my friends, and I’ve always felt safe knowing I had you in my corner. But now I have Dom too.”

She squeezes my hand as my heart tries not to choke itself out.

“It was also easier letting you call the shots,” she admits. “But I want to start calling them myself.”

“What are you saying?” Lincoln asks.

“I’m just saying I want a little freedom from you guys breathing down my neck. I know you do it so I don’t mess up, but … maybe it won’t be so bad if I do.”

This is the Camilla I know. This is the woman that can fuck me up with a smile or put me in my place with more class and etiquette than I could imagine. She’s just that—a woman. Not the little girl they once knew.

It’s Ford that breaks the silence. “We all mess up, Camilla. Look at Lincoln.”

“Fuck you again,” he laughs, and just like that, the tension ebbs from the table. “I get what you’re saying. But you need to accept the fact that we’ll always be hovering nearby. You’re our baby sister.”

My hand falls to Camilla’s thigh. It lands almost at the bend of her hip, and her foot stops tapping. Her eyes dart to me, her lips falling apart. I give her a wink to help quell the anxiety flooding her pretty blue irises.

“I’ll be fine. I need you guys to trust me a little more. Okay?” she asks.

After a few moments, they both nod.

“Good.” Heaving a deep breath, one hand clamping down on mine, she blows it out. “Back to what I was saying earlier. In the spirit of this conversation, I don’t think this is your business. But Dom says I need to tell you.”

They look at me, curious looks painted on their faces. I keep my features blank.

“I loaned Nate ten thousand dollars.”

“You did fucking what?” Lincoln barks.

“Lower your voice,” Ford warns him, his tone too calm. His gaze rolls to mine like sharpened steel. “Did you know about this?”

I sit up a little taller and ignore the slightly panicked look from Camilla. “I found out yesterday and I was about as happy about it as you are right now.”

“What are you thinking?” Lincoln asks. “Seriously—ten thousand dollars?”

“I was thinking that it’s my money and I can do whatever I want with it.”

The corner of his eye on me, Ford directs his attention to his sister. “That’s true. You can. But that doesn’t mean you should go loaning people ten thousand dollars. And I know you know Nate, and it’s Dominic’s brother—”

“Which only makes it a worse choice,” I cut in, throwing up my hands. “I have major issues with the fact that neither one of them told me.”

“Can I speak frankly?” Ford asks.

“Yeah, cut the shit.”

“Do I need to worry about this?”

“Clearly we fucking do,” Lincoln shoots off, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t have to fucking worry,” I say, turning my heated glare on Lincoln. “My brother is a stand-up guy.”

“We’ve met,” Lincoln deadpans.

“Exactly why he told me not to even come here today,” I reply.

Cam’s linen napkin goes sailing on the table. We all look at her and almost see smoke coming out of her diamond-studded ears. “I’m not listening to any more of this.”

“We’re just making sure—”

“Ford, enough.” She scoots her chair back, knocking my hand off her leg in the process. “I’ve never once given you crap about any of your life choices, even when I was a teenager and watched you make a slew of bad ones. I’m not asking you to approve mine, so if that’s what the two of you are thinking,” she says, looking from one to the other, “you can get that out of your head right now. I’m allowing you to meet Dom out of respect for you. I would appreciate some respect of my choices back.”

My jaw drops. If we weren’t sitting here, I would pick her up and swing her around for finally having a backbone. It’s obvious this is a new thing for them. The look on Lincoln’s face is priceless—brows shot to the ceiling, jaw hanging open like mine. Ford is more reserved, but there’s no mistake he’s trying to wrap his head around this too.

I place my hand on her thigh again, but she knocks it away.

“And as far as the money goes, it was from my account. It cost you guys nothing. If I come to you broke and crying, you can shove it all in my face—but only then. I won’t listen to it before.” She looks at me. “And not from you either, Dominic.”

Ford whistles through his teeth, letting his fork hit the table. “Well, okay then.”

“I loaned that money to someone I trust, to the father of a little boy that reminds me a lot of Huxley, and I won’t feel bad about that. Going forward, I won’t ask any of you,” she looks at me, “including you, Dom, what I can or can’t do with anything—money or otherwise.”

No one says a word, not even to Lola when she comes by to check on us. I give her a little wave, letting her know everything is fine and to encourage her to leave. After a couple of long minutes, I take a drink.

“I know what this must look like,” I say. “She’s dating a guy that works on air conditioners for a living. I don’t eat at places like this or golf or belong to a country club somewhere. You gotta be thinking she’s lost her damn mind forking over that kind of money to Nate. You have to.”

“I’m not saying we don’t,” Lincoln admits.

I look at my girl. Her skin is flushed, her eyes crystal clear, looking more beautiful than ever. I give her a reassuring smile and her shoulders sag at the gesture. Leaning forward, she presses a kiss to my cheek.

“I don’t want my family,” I tell them, “right or wrong, to come between yours. So I give you both my word, man-to-man, that she will be paid back.”

Ford pauses, looks me over, then smiles. He extends a hand and we shake again. This seems good enough for Lincoln as well. He takes a big bite of his burger.

“How old is your nephew?” he asks with a mouth full of meat.

“Four.”

“The loan. What’s it for?” Ford asks, cutting into his chicken breast.

“He’s redoing The Gold Room. Wanting to make it less …”

“Seedy?” Lincoln offers, taking another bite of his burger. “No offense.”

“None taken. It’s really just basic things that should’ve been done decades ago. Paint. New flooring. New seal on the roof. Things like that.”

“How long has he owned that place?” Ford asks.

“A while.” I pick up a fry and drop it. They’re using forks for fries. Shoving my hands under the table, I feel my face flush. “Nate got into it originally for a fuck fest, I think. Then he got married for a few years and they had Ryder. Now it’s just the two of them, he’s seeing things a little different.”

“Kids will do that to you,” Lincoln nods.

“You know,” Ford says, taking a sip of his water, “I know a guy that does flooring that’s affordable. The guy was in the service with me, but is damn smart, hard worker, and is just getting started. I could hook you up if you are interested. No pressure.”

“That’d be great,” I say, feeling thrown off-balance. “Thanks.”

Lincoln takes another bite. “What’s Troy’s brother do, Ford?”

“Yeah. Travis is a roofer, I think. I’ll ask and send that to you too if it would help.”

Camilla beams, the smile on her face the widest I’ve ever seen it. “I love this, you guys.”

“What?” Lincoln asks.

“Not you talking with your mouthful,” Cam groans. “Mom would kill you right now.”

“Mom’s not here.”

Cam rolls her eyes. “You’re disgusting.”

He makes a point of swallowing, much to Camilla’s disgust, before looking at me. “Tell us about yourself, Dom.”

“Dom?” Cam laughs.

“You call him that.”

“I’m also having se—”

“Easy,” Ford warns, making us all laugh. “We don’t hate him now. Don’t push your luck.”

The table bursts with laughter, Camilla leaning her head on my shoulder. I lay my arm along the back of her chair. My tattoos peek out from beneath the rolled-up sleeves of my shirt, the edge of a cross that I had inked to remember Joey visible.

Something about the moment stills time. The voices around me are muffled as I feel trapped somehow in this weird spot mentally—thinking about Joey, how he had Nate’s laugh and our mother’s need to please everyone. If he were an adult, I wonder how he’d fit in this situation. Probably better than me.

I look up to see two women sitting at the table across the aisle from us. They’re decked out in bright dresses and huge, tacky necklaces. They smile politely at Ford, and I wait for them to also look my way. I hope they don’t.

Their smiles falter, slipping from their faces when they see me with Camilla. It’s almost a look of horror before they recover when Cam sits up, posture perfect, and addresses them.

“Good afternoon, Paulina. Raquel. How are you this afternoon?” she says, going into what I call pageant mode. It’s so not the Camilla I know. And it’s not one I particularly like.

“So, back to this thing about your brother calling me a dick …” Lincoln’s words draw my attention away from his sister. When I look at him, he’s grinning. “Tell him I paid for the entire bottle of Patrón and we only drank half. He owes me.”