“Well, damn.” Isaiah lets out a low whistle as he drops something into the kitchen sink. “Don’t you four look good.” “Flirt,” Miller mutters. “I’m a married man, Montgomery. I don’t flirt.” He bends over the back of my chair as I crane my neck up to look at him. “Except with you. I like flirting with you. You want cheese on your burger?” “Yes, please.”
