What the hell? He’d fallen asleep on the boat and was dreaming this, right? Nice to see him? Was she kidding? He’d told her that he loved her, and then she’d left. Moved to New York for college without looking back. He opened his mouth to remind her of that fact, but Rocco stood up and tugged on his arm.

“I think we should talk outside.”

Diego wrenched free without looking at him and turned to Daisy. “I need to talk to you.” He had no idea what game she was playing, but he intended to find out.

Daisy opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Rocco once again put a hand on him.

Diego looked down at his arm. Rocco was older by two years, but at six foot four, Diego had four inches on his brother—most of them harder and leaner. Rocco with his bulkier mass outweighed Diego and was more badass when it came right down to it, but Diego was working on a lot of resentment and anger, so it’d be a solid match.

And a fight long overdue.

Rocco dropped his hand from Diego and shoved his fingers through his shaggy, black hair that was the same as Diego’s. Apparently, Rocco had learned some restraint over the years, but not too much as he jerked his head to the door and lumbered out.

Diego followed without looking back.

Which wasn’t easy because Daisy had looked…different. Among other things. She’d always been girl-next-door pretty. And part of what Diego had loved about her was that they’d had a lot in common. Both had grown up on the wrong side of the tracks, the poor kids who didn’t have a penny to their name.

She was still girl-next-door pretty, but there was a whole new air about her now, as well. She was dressed in a blue suit dress and matching heels, looking professional, smart, and incredibly sure of herself—which he had to admit, was attractive as hell.

But she also looked like someone he didn’t know. Certainly not the type of woman who’d mesh with a guy who lived on a boat.

“Well,” he heard her say to Tyler as he walked away. “That went about as well as expected.”

In response, Tyler laughed softly, apparently unconcerned that his fiancé was about to get the pretty punched off his face.

Ahead of him, Rocco pushed out the restaurant doors and walked down the pier to a relatively isolated spot. Instead of turning to face Diego, his brother leaned on the piling and let out a whoosh of air.

Diego stood behind him, waiting.

Finally, Rocco straightened and faced him.

“Nice blind side,” Diego said.

Rocco winced. “I knew you’d take it like that, but Tyler thought a neutral spot would be best.”

“Since when is a place like The French House neutral?”

“We both know you wouldn’t have come to Dad’s house or the tat shop, so I don’t know what the hell your problem is.”