Page 67 of Hard Rain

Axel turned on him. “I did not. It was a tennis shoe.”

“It was footwear,” Whip said. “My point stands.”

Twenty-three years later, Axel was still trying to argue his way out of history.

“See?” Daniel pointed at him. “He remembers.”

“Unfortunately,” Axel groused.

Whip chuckled. He remembered all of it, the cheap beer, the bonfire, the lost shoe, and Axel insisting he was fine right up until he wasn’t.

Grant and Grady stepped inside, sending the bell above the office door rattling.

Whip glanced over automatically, and Axel’s gaze followed.

Old habits. Years of military service and law enforcement had trained both of them to track who entered a room.

“Place is clean,” Grant observed.

Daniel’s smile slipped, and Whip caught it. Most people wouldn’t have.

“It’s procedure,” Whip said.

“Yeah,” Grady added. “Nobody’s accusing you of anything.”

“Good.” Daniel snorted. “My husband already thinks I spend too much time here.”

“People in relationships usually do,” Axel said.

Daniel pointed at him. “That’s rich.”

Axel folded his arms tighter. “Careful.”

“No, really.” Daniel grinned. “How long did your last one last?”

The humor vanished. Whip felt it before he saw it.

Axel’s shoulders locked, and the muscle in his jaw tightened.

Hell.

Before he could check himself, Whip stepped closer and rested a hand against the small of Axel’s back.

“Daniel.”

“Alright, alright.” Daniel held up both hands.

Axel pressed back against his palm and stayed there.

Yeah. Whip was done pretending he didn’t see it.

The tension beneath his hand eased a fraction, not much, but enough for him to know that Axel wasn’t going to clock Daniel.

“You’re being an ass,” Whip said more gruffly than intended.

Daniel laughed. “Fair.”

“Fucker,” Axel muttered under his breath and pulled away from his touch before heading for the door.