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“Mmm.” He slid out one of the stools at the island and sat, pulling his laptop out of his bag. Quin left the office, but he never really left the office. He claimed the world of high-end art never slept, but I knew it was the other side of his business that really kept him busy after hours. “So who’s the guy?”
“What guy?”
“The guy in the basement with Julius. The one you smell like. Gross, by the way. If you’re going to fool around with someone, at least shower so we don’t have to smell it.” Like Quin’s taste, his senses were also the most “refined.”
“We didn’t hook up per se.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You know, it’s really weird that you point that kind of shit out.”
He shrugged. “You still haven’t answered the question.”
“His name is Felix. I’m doing McMahon a favor and acting as his bodyguard for a while.”
“Hmm. And this favor to McMahon involves debauching the poor”—another sniff—“poor, what is that? Sea otter? Yes, this favor involves debauching this poor little sea otter?”
“Not technically. No. And he’s not little.”
“So tell me the rest.”
I ground my teeth together, which just made Quin smile. Of all my brothers, he drove me the most nuts. Most people would think it was Cal, but nope, his twin could piss me off just by breathing sometimes. “Fine. He’s my fated mate, okay?”
“Who’s your fated mate?” Cal asked, picking that exact second to walk back into the kitchen in sweats and a T-shirt, hair wet and dripping onto a towel around his neck.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I dumped the pasta into the boiling water while Quin filled him in, making sure Cal got the picture that I’d been cagey with the details.
“I surmise this Felix character will be staying with us for a while?” Quin asked.
I nodded.
“Uh-huh. And you’re sure he’s your mate?” Cal asked. The twins gave me identical skeptical looks, so I pulled my collar down again and showed them the change to my saddle patch, right above my collarbone.
They both sat back, stunned, and whistled in unison like it was something they’d rehearsed. I hated when they did shit like that.
Cal absently rubbed a hand over his own saddle patch, his gaze a million miles away, then he cleared his throat and pulled himself back to our conversation. “Wow. I’m honestly surprised.I kinda figured if anyone was going to find their fated mate, it’d be Julius or Mr. Stuffy Pants over here.” Cal motioned to his twin, who shrugged and nodded.
“I have to agree.” Quin blinked like he was shocked to find himself agreeing with his twin.
“He’s my fated mate. We were fated to meet, right? That’s kind of how this whole thing works.”
“Yes, but it’s also a law of averages, wouldn’t you say?” Quin looked a little smug.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What Stuffy Pants is trying to say?—”
“Stop calling me that.”
Cal grinned, clearly pretty damn pleased with himself for getting under Quin’s skin. “What my better half?—”
“That’s just as bad.” Quin glared.
“Fine. WhatQuintillusis trying to say is that you’ve kinda got to see people to meet people. When was the last time you went on a date that wasn’t a cheating spouse you were looking into for a case?”
I didn’t want to answer that question, so I didn’t, turning my back on the idiots at the counter to stir the pasta.
“It’s interesting, is all. If I hadn’t seen the mark, I wouldn’t have believed it.”
