“It’s not the best metaphor,” Marcus said, jumping into his role as peacemaker between his two older brothers.

“How did we even get on the subject of women?” Ian asked.

Dec grabbed the peanuts and poured a measure into his hand. “Women spend most of their time together talking about men. If we spent more time talking about them, even objectively observing them, we’d be better off. And in order to do that, we need to stop sleeping with them. And stop socializing with them. Everything, full stop.”

“No women? For how long?” The scowl on Ian’s face was enough to tell that he wasn’t in favor of the plan.

“As long as it takes,” Dec said.

“My social life is crap anyway,” Ian finally replied. “Since I moved back to Bonnett Harbor, I can’t sneeze without half the town knitting me a bleedin’ afghan. If I started dating, there’d be all sorts of gossip.”

Dec looked over at Marcus. “What about you?”

“He barely dates as it is,” Ian said. “This shouldn’t be any problem for Marky.”

“I date,” Marcus said. “I just don’t talk about it with you tossers.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem for him,” Dec said. “He’s stuck out in Newport on a boat for the rest of the summer.”

“Just you and your tools?” Ian asked.

Marcus nodded. “Dec got me a job with Trevor Ross.”

Dec held up his hands. “I got you in the door. You got the job.”

Dec had provided security at a number of Ross’s corporate events and parties and also advised his corporate office on a variety of matters. A passing conversation about Ross’s sailing yacht and Marcus’s talents had landed Marcus a new commission and a potential business partner with limitless capital.

“After I showed him my work, we got to talking, and he’s interested in bankrolling the expansion of my business. I’ve got to find a bigger place, where I can build bigger boats. Maybe hire some new workers. Ross could throw a lot of business my way.”