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“I can’t count that high yet.”
“Good thing I have a stopwatch on my phone,” he said, ever patient with her, if not with them. A few seconds of indecipherable whispering later, Lily gave them a stern “Clock’s ticking!” warning before the two troublemakers trudged off, cackling.
“So much for that private celebration,” Levi grumbled, taking after his son.
“Tonight, baby.” Marsh nipped his bottom lip and tugged at the bandana around his neck. “I promise to put this to good use.”
Levi groaned. “Not helping at all.” As much as he wanted to sink into Marsh again, to drop to his knees and take care of the erection still persistently pressed against his thigh, he reluctantly pushed back and straightened his clothes. “And you better keep that promise.”
“I intend to.” Marsh tossed him his Stetson before flipping his own onto his head, then opening the door. “After you.”
At the top of the stairs, Levi paused to let the familiar sounds from below—of a family celebrating together—wash over him.
Marsh stepped to his side, a hand on his opposite hip. “Everything okay?”
Levi tipped back his head so he could catch his husband’s gaze from under the brims of their hats. “Thank you for this too. For giving me and David more laughter, more love, more family.”
Carefully avoiding a collision, Marsh leaned in and pecked his lips. “Yours is pretty great too.”
“And they’ll all be together next weekend.”
Marsh shivered. “Little terrifying.”
“Lotta terrifying,” Levi said, even as a grin stretched across his face. As he pressed that smile to his husband’s. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way when I say ‘I do’ to you again.”
Two
Marsh lounged at the large round table in the center of Under the Table’s dining room, sipping a bottle of Gravity Stout and glancing around the restaurant full of friends and family. Jax’s girlfriend, February, owned the place, and she had closed it for Marsh and Levi’s post-Pride parade bachelor party. At the table on one side of Marsh was his best friend and best man, Brax, who was pretending to pay attention to the hacker speak between his husband, Holt, Agent Farmer, who’d flown up from San Diego, and Jamie Walker, a family friend who used to be an FBI cyber agent and now coached basketball at one of the local Division I colleges.
On Marsh’s other side, a leering Agent Cameron Byrne had his dark eyes trained on the heavily tattooed silver fox behind the bar. Dressed in a pink fringe vest, frayed jeans, and rainbow glitter cuffs that matched his rainbow glitter combat boots, Cam’s husband, San Francisco’s US Attorney, was popping caps off bottles of beer while Jax and Levi slung cocktails.
“If I hadn’t seen him at work,” Marsh said to Cam, “I’d think your husband was more at home behind a bar than in a courtroom.”
“Might still be true,” Cam said with a grin. “Same as your husband.”
Marsh held his beer bottle out for a clink, Cam tapping back with the neck of his. “Touché.” Levi had waited tables all through college and usually played host for his family’s get-togethers in San Diego. As for Dominic Price, not only was he a federal prosecutor, but he also co-owned one of the most popular microbreweries in the Bay Area.
“Last call on the Imperial Stout!” Nic shouted to the crowd, and Cam bolted out of his seat. “That fucker was holding out on me.”
Chuckling, Marsh settled back in his and glanced around again at the charming space, wishing for a place like it in San Diego. A bright, white shiplap roof arched overhead, jewel tone booths and chairs invited guests to get comfy, and a kick-ass bar provided plenty of live-action entertainment. He wasn’t surprised folks gravitated around it. “This place is pretty fantastic.”
Brax glanced around, same as he’d done, but with a certain fondness in his hazel eyes. “Would you believe it was riddled with bullet holes four months ago?”
“Absolutely,” Marsh said with a knowing grin.
Feb had wandered her way into the Madigans’ world—or, more accurately, the Madigans had wandered their way into hers—so yeah, no surprise chaos had erupted. But so too had love for Holt and Brax’s hacker-hunter protégé, Jax.
“But you missed one in the bar.” Marsh pointed at the round hole on the opposite side of the bar from where Levi was mixing what looked like a Negroni.
“Intentional,” Brax said. “Feb thought it gave the place more character.”
Marsh laughed out loud. “No wonder she fits in so well.”
“Hate to interrupt, fellas,” Helena said from over Brax’s shoulder. “But Lily is standing guard by the pantry door. She says David needs protection from, and I quote, ‘that asshole.’”
Marsh’s gut sank, figuring he knew what this was about, at the same time he bit back a laugh imagining Brax’s daughter, tiny fists on her hips, uttering those words. She was as fiery as her red hair—and as quick to pick up words and skills as the rest of her family.
On the other side of Brax, Holt broke midsentence and jerked around in his chair, glaring up at his sister. “And where did she learn that word?”
