Wilson’s gaze sliced to Asher, and I was happy for the reprieve. Wilson was intense, his eyes cold, posture menacing. The man obviously didn’t like me though I had no clue why.

“No need.”

There was some form of silent man-communication between Asher and Wilson. If the vibe was chilly before, it was downright frosty now—suffocatingly so. I was still in the process of plucking up the nerve to question what was going on when I caught sight of Cole on the deck—shirtless and sweaty from his run.

Sweet mother of pearl. There was no denying Cole was good-looking with his messy mop of dark brown hair and blue eyes, but the sweat rolling down his chest upped the hotness factor a few notches. I’d always preferred my men clean-shaven or with a little bit of stubble like Asher wore but for the first time in my life, I was contemplating the sex appeal of a full, bushy beard. However, my consideration was cut short when the fog lifted, and I realized Cole’s lips were downturned into a fierce scowl.

Oh no, not him, too.

But as soon as Cole turned his head and his gaze collided with mine his features transformed—lightning quick the foreboding frown and creases between his eyebrows disappeared. In their place was a carefree expression as he leisurely strolled into the house.

“Damn, brother,” Cole snickered. “You said she clocked you, not that she bested you.” Cole’s lips twitched and he tossed me a flirty wink as he made his way into the kitchen.

“It was one lucky punch,” Asher grumbled.

Wilson’s gaze remained cool and alert as one brow arched. He didn’t look pleased that I took a shot at Asher—as a matter of fact, he looked downright pissed he was being forced to breathe the same air as me.

What the hell?

Who did he think he was? Wilson had no reason to be mad at me. I’d done nothing wrong and if he was mad that I punched his coworker and couldn’t understand at the time I was in fear for my life then he could fuck right off.

“It wasn’t a lucky shot,” I started. “But he is lucky I punched him before he taught me how to bust a nut or there’s a strong possibility he’d never have kids.” A thought struck me, and I turned from Wilson to Asher to ask, “Wait, do you have kids?”

Asher’s lips were pinched together tightly, the sides of his eyes crinkled, and he was shaking his head.

“No, sweetness, I don’t have any kids.”

I didn’t know why that was such a relief but it was. Not that I didn’t like kids, I did. I actually hoped in the future I’d have a few but the thought of Asher loving someone enough to reproduce with them made my stomach knot. Stupid, I know, but I felt it all the same.

Then suddenly the air in the room changed. It filled with a deep, rumbling laugh followed by a loud bang on the table. I jumped at the sound and my gaze sliced to Wilson. His head was tipped to the side, his lips were parted but upturned and he was laughing. No, he was hysterically laughing while slapping his hand on the table.