Page 44 of Not Just a Trick Play

I turn back to Amelia. “Bad sex, huh?” I comment drily. She doesn’t glance up. “Lots to compare it to?”

The server retreats a step, possibly reconsidering his career choices. “Umm… I’ll come back for your orders.”

Her chin snaps up, and she glares at me. I smile, enjoying myself more and more by the second. “Perhaps you need to share your criteria in advance. Like, is he going to be scored on position, performance, and stamina?” I tap my bottom lip. “Or is this a star-rating system where you lump it all together?”

If looks could kill… But I can’t resist continuing. “Seems a bit harsh to write him off already. Practice makes perfect.” I waggle my brows at her, though I’m not entirely confident she won’t empty her glass of bubbly over my head.

“I really don’t know how much better a one-starer can get, hardly seems worth the effort.” Amelia shoots back, a defiant glint springing to her eyes.

“One star?”

Before I’m able to challenge that, “Yeah, don’t even bother,” Yvonne butts in. To me, she says, “We’re finding Amelia a man.”

I almost choke, while Amelia yelps, “Yvonne!”

Not that my sister takes any notice because she continues, “Seriously, did you know the asshole she was dating knocked up another woman and is marrying her? Didn’t even have the decency to warn Amelia before he showed up engaged.”

My brows rise higher and higher at this retelling. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Yvonne leans back in her seat. “Nope. Pencil dicks reign. And so we need to stage a sextervention. Find her a rebound.” With surety and a slight smirk, she declares, “After all, it’s a universally acknowledged truth that the best way to get over someone is to sit on someone else. Lots of someone elses.”

I cringe. Yvonne’s dated too many assholes to count. It’s as if she’s allergic to good guys. And now she’s trying to get Amelia on board with her shit? I don’t like the sound of this. At all.

I turn to Amelia. “Sure you don’t want to give last night’s guy another shot?” I glance at my sister. She won’t exactly be thrilled I’ve fucked her friend. But it’s not like she hasn’t slept with mine in the past. Will she really kill me if I sleep with Amelia again? I’ve got to be better than anyone she’s going to cook up.

Meanwhile, Amelia’s clutching her teaspoon as if she’s contemplating its potential as a murder weapon. “No, it was a one-time thing.”

It was a three-time thing. Four for her. Just saying it’s nothing to scoff at. “One time?” I say, raising a brow. Simultaneously, I’m wondering if that’s what last night was. A rebound. I’m usually okay with that, but now I want to scowl, but force myself to keep my expression bland.

Yvonne chimes in. “Yeah, no need for do-overs in the city, not when there’s a whole buffet of men to pick from, and so many ways to get to them: online, speed dating, the bars. If you were a guy, I’d lend you a dog or have Beatrice or one of the others to rent you a kid. Total chick magnet.”

That’s my sister, truly enterprising. And with each option she lists, my outrage ramps up.

“Dating really isn’t a priority right now.”

“Who said anything about dating? We’re talking about sex. Hot, dirty, sex.”

I like the idea of hot dirty sex, part two. But I’m not crazy about her having sex with anybody else because I want a do-over.

“Someone you work with…?” Yvonne speculates, her finger thoughtfully stroking her chin.

But then she screws up her nose as she glances at me. “Nah, forget I said that. You don’t want to do the work folks. At least not the players. They’re total horn dogs. You should see some of the women Jake gets with.” She grimaces. “I’m not slut-shaming or anything, but really, there has to be more to their allure than simply being handy. Not everything requires instant gratification. Why reach for another snack when you’ve barely started the first?”

I mentally facepalm. Fantastic Yvonne. Lump Amelia in with the rest of the after-dinner selection. At this point, I doubt even claiming she’s the tastiest will earn me a second helping.

“Jake’s the king of the one-night stands,” Yvonne adds, all bright and cheerful. Amelia’s face tightens almost imperceptibly.

Yep. That’s the end of my dessert course. Much appreciated, Sis.

She turns to Amelia, practically rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “How about we set up an online profile?”

Oh, sonowshe’s asking for permission.

Amelia’s already shaking her head, examining her champagne as if she’s considering drowning herself in their bubbles. “No apps.”

Yvonne’s face falls. I wait, ready for her to ramp up her sales pitch. “Fine, fine. Besides, sorting through the weirdos is a full-time job. Maybe I should start a business—hire myself out to people who don’t want to go through the apps themselves,” she muses.

“Filter out the dick pics?” I liked the snail farm idea better.

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