“Oh,” Justin said finally when the other two remained silent, their gazes shifting over the groceries in their carts. “Well . . . er . . . we’re kind of meat and potato type guys. Potatoes are vegetables,” he added brightly and gestured to his cart as if to show that he’d collected all the vegetables they needed.

“So are broccoli, cauliflower and lettuce,” Holly pointed with amusement.

This time Justin and the other two men exchanged grimaces and glances, before Justin spoke for all three of them again, saying, “Yeah, not so much. I mean sure they are vegetables, but they aren’t real vegetables if you know what I mean.”

“You mean they aren’t manly type vegetables?” she asked, one eyebrow arching and her expression stern.

“Exactly,” he said seeming relieved that she understood. “Potatoes and jalapenos are manly type vegetables. Lettuce and that stuff . . . well . . . they’re more rabbit food . . . don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t think,” she assured him and then added, “My James loves all the vegetables and fruits . . . and he seems pretty manly to me.”

For some reason Justin scowled at that and then muttered, “I bet he eats quiche too, huh?”

“Sure,” Holly answered as she snatched up a shopping basket from the end of the nearest checkout.

“Of course he does,” Justin said.

Noting the almost snide tone to his voice, she turned to peer at him curiously. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Not a thing,” Anders assured her, turning his cart to head back toward the vegetables. “There’s no need for the basket. There is still room in my cart.”

“Yeah, not much though, huh?” Holly said, eyeing his cart dubiously. If she fit more than a tomato onto that stack she’d be surprised. “I think I’ll just hold on to the basket.”

“As you wish,” Anders said mildly, following when she headed back through produce.

“You do realize, Justin, that Holly didn’t understand your reference to real men not eating quiche,” Decker said as he watched Justin turn his cart around. “She’s too young to get it . . . or perhaps it is fairer to say that the reference, like yourself, is too old.”

“I’m not old,” Justin squawked, shocked at the very suggestion. He was the baby of the Enforcers. The young hip one to their grumpy old codgers. He was not old.

“You may not be old in comparison to us, but you’re ancient in comparison to mortals. Old enough to be her great-­great grandfather, in fact,” Decker said with obvious enjoyment. “There is a definite generation gap between you two, sonny boy.”

Justin fell into step with Decker as he headed after Holly and Anders, but his mind was now racing as he absorbed the man’s suggestion. Old? Him? He was the young hip one, the one who knew the ways of the world and the women in it. He wasn’t old. Was he? Certainly there was no way he was old enough to be her great-­great grandfather, he assured himself and then frowned. Well, okay he was over a hundred while she was maybe twenty-­five. So maybe he was a good eighty years older, but . . .

“Damn, I’m an old man compared to her,” he muttered with dismay.

“A dirty old man too,” Decker informed him, and when Justin glanced to him with surprise, pointed out, “You can’t look at her without imagining her naked and in some sexual position or other.” He shook his head. “It’s a good thing she can’t read your thoughts or she’d be slapping that smiling face of yours.”

Justin merely shook his head, feeling dazed. “I’m an old man.”

“Yes, you are,” Decker said cheerfully, then glanced at him sideways and said, “Ah, don’t worry about it, Bricker. We all get there eventually. Well, unless we die,” he added dryly and then shrugged. “Better to be old than dead, huh?”

“But I’ve always been the young one.” Justin heard the whine in his voice, but too late to stop it.

“Yeah, well them’s the breaks my friend. Get over it,” Decker said with a distinct lack of sympathy.

“What did you do? Buy out the store?” Gia asked as she held the door open between the garage and kitchen and watched them cart in the first load of groceries.

“Don’t look at me,” Holly said on a laugh as she stepped inside and set her bags down. “Most of this is down to the guys. Each of them filled a whole cart to overflowing on their own. It was almost embarrassing when we went to the checkout.”

Gia shook her head and glanced from Anders to Decker. “You won’t even be here to eat any of it.”

“We were thinking of Dante and Tomasso,” Anders said with a shrug as he turned to head back out.

“Ah.” Gia nodded her head, and then arched an eyebrow at Justin. “And what’s your excuse?”

“I was thinking of your cousins too,” Justin assured her. “Those two could put away an entire cow at one sitting . . . each. I’m lucky to get anything at all to eat when they’re around. It seemed a good idea to pack in the food. That way Holly and I might at least get a sandwich or something here or there.”

“Si.” Gia grinned and then confided to Holly, “My cousins are big boys who like their food.”

“We can get the rest, Holly,” Justin said, stopping her when she started back out to the garage. “Why don’t you start unpacking while we lug the bags in?”

Nodding, Holly turned to move back to the bags she’d set down and began to pull out and sort items. Gia immediately moved to help her. Neither of them knew the kitchen layout though, so it was slow going.

“You will like my cousins Tomasso and Dante,” Gia announced suddenly as they worked.

“Why is that?” Straightening from sticking half a dozen frozen pizzas in the freezer, Holly turned in time to see Justin scowling as he dumped a bunch of grocery bags on the counter.

Gia waited until he’d stomped out, then grinned and said, “I mostly said that to annoy Bricker. He is sometimes acting too big for his bitches.”

Holly blinked once and then gave her head a shake. “I think you mean he is growing too big for his britches.”

“Britches?” Gia stopped with a box of pasta in hand and eyed her uncertainly. “What is britches?”

“They’re pants or slacks,” Holly explained.

“Why would he grow too big for his pants? We are immortal. We never gain weight,” she pointed out with a frown.

“No, well, it’s just a saying. When someone gets conceited or puts on airs, they say they are getting too big for their britches.”

“Not bitches?” Gia asked with surprise.

“No,” Holly said gently, biting her lip to keep from laughing. She didn’t want to make the woman feel bad.

“Oh.” Gia shrugged. “Okay then, yes, that is what I meant. These britches.” She pursed her lips. “It makes more sense than bitches anyway.”

“Yes,” Holly murmured as she moved back to the bags.

“But you really will like my cousins,” Gia announced. “They are both big, beautiful bad boys.”

“Bad boys? And you think I’ll like them?” Holly asked with confusion.

“They are not really bad boys,” Gia assured her. “They just look like bad boys with their long hair and leather. Inside though, they are dolce.”

“Dolce?”

“Sweet,” Anders announced, carrying in more bags. “Dolce means ‘sweet.’ ”

“Si, and Dante and Tomasso look big and pauroso—­scary, but inside they are as sweet as gelato.”

“Sure they are, big as bears and sweet as ice cream,” Decker said with a smile as he entered now as well. “Speaking of which, I just got the call, they will be landing in an hour. Anders and I won’t be able to help put this stuff away after all. We have to head to the airport if we want a ride home.” He grimaced and added apologetically, “Otherwise we’ll be waiting for at least a ­couple hours for the plane to come back for us.”

Holly nodded with understanding, recalling Gia explaining that the planes they used were apparently behind on pickups.

Decker glanced back out to the garage, where Bricker was loading himself up with more bags, and then turned back to Holly and murmured, “Remember what we said.”