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“I think we all need to take a breath,” Logan said. “Let’s go get something to eat. Who’s in the mood for tacos?”

“I don’t want fucking tacos.” Jackson jumped over the back of the couch and sulked off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself.

Beckett dug a hand into his hair and exhaled harshly, willing his pulse to slow down.

“He’s just riled up. It’s the adrenaline, is all,” said Nico.

Beckett shot him a dubious look.

“It’s the fact he hasn’t gotten laid since Vegas,” Zach said as he swapped his wardrobe sneakers for his personal sneakers.

“That you know of,” Nico said.

“Oh, I’d know,” Zach said. “He makes sure everyone knows. He thought his date this afternoon was going to have a happy ending, but—”

“Kat and Jo specifically said we weren’t allowed to do anything with the auction winners,” Logan said.

Nico rolled his eyes. “No banging the winners on company time. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t get their number.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper with a phone number scribbled on it.

Behind them, the bathroom door opened, Jackson re-emerging. “Let’s go if we’re gonna go,” he said, petulance in every word. “And I’m not fucking sharing my nachos.”

“Am I the only one who didn’t hit on the auction winner?” Logan asked as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Yes,” Zach and Nico said at the same time.

“But mine turned out to be married.” Zach shrugged, then turned to Nico. “You going to call her?”

Nico scoffed. “She couldn’t wait to show me all her followers on Insta. That is not a headache I need.”

“Then what was the point of this little demonstration?” Beckett asked.

A wide grin stole over Nico’s face. “I’m the only one who got digits.”

“Lot of good it’ll do you. Becks is still the only one getting laid tonight,” Zach said.

Beckett’s ears blazed with heat. “Stop fucking talking about my fiancée that way.”

At the same time, Jackson barked a laugh that had Zach and Logan glancing between the twins, questioning looks on their faces.

“We used to have fun, Becks,” Jackson whined. “The Hayes brothers on the prowl. Remember Fiji?”

“Everyone remembers Fiji,” Logan mumbled.

“You’re letting Kat lead you around by your dick—”

Beckett grabbed the front of Jackson’s t-shirt, pulling him close until they were nose to nose. Despite the snarl curling Beckett’s lips, Jackson didn’t back down. If anything, he glared at his brother harder, as if he were silently daring him to make good on the implied threat.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Beckett growled.

“Everyone needs to take a breath,” Logan said.

“This how it’s gonna be now?” Jackson spat. “You’re choosing her over me?”

Beckett’s grip on Jackson’s shirt faltered as guilt dropped into his stomach like an anchor. Jackson shoved Beckett away and stepped back, straightening his shirt.

“No one has to choose between anyone,” Zach said, moving between the brothers and slapping a conciliatory hand on each of their backs. Beckett stiffened, never taking his eyes off his twin. “The only choosing we have to do tonight is hard taco or soft.”

Nico scoffed, but despite his carefree demeanor, his eyes darted between the brothers, assessing, seeing far more than Beckett wanted him to. “Only amateurs choose one or the other when you could have both.” He nudged Jackson with his elbow. “You taught me that, Jacks. Remember what you told me in Miami? Redhead or brunette?”