Page 100 of The Winslow Brothers

“I definitely mean he’s a penis. Definitely.”

“Ty!” Winnie chastises through her teeth, her cheeks heating to a rosy pink of embarrassment at having to deal with this shit.

“Though, by these terms, this would make Uncle Ty a penis as well, since he used his phone during family dinner too, two months and three weeks ago. We were eating tacos, and he kept checking his phone to get an update on a boxing match.”

Her commentary makes Flynn chuckle. “I think our little genius has your number, bro.”

Ty just rolls his eyes and forks a bite full of lasagna into his mouth. Winnie’s head is in her hands, and she’s given up ontrying to get this whole thing reined in. But my mother has now moved her focus to me.

“Jude, you know the family dinner rules,” she says and showcases her infamousmom lookat me. You know, the same look every mother uses to instill the fear of God in their children so that they can keep them in line, even when they’re rowdy, nearly uncontrollable teenagers.

“You know what, Mom? This is the best lasagna and spaghetti I’ve ever had. You’ve truly outdone yourself,” I announce, and she shakes her head on a snort.

“Don’t try to butter my biscuit to get yourself out of trouble,” she retorts. “And considering your plate is still empty, that tells me you’re full of shit right now.”

I glance down at my plate to find it is, in fact, still empty.Whoops.

“Mom just said shit at the dinner table!” Ty teases, and our mother scratches the side of her face with her middle finger.

“Mind your business, Ty.”

Wes, Winnie, Flynn, and Remy all laugh at the rare sight of Wendy flipping someone off, and I use the distraction to check the screen of my phone again. The dinner is now in pandemonium thanks to me, but I feel no shame. A man will use any means necessary for sex; it’s a scientific fact.

Still,nothing.

“All right, Jude,” Remy comments. “Why are you checking your phone like Ty when he’s waiting to hear back from one of his hippie vegan friends about a clown party?”

Ty glares.

I chuckle at Ty’s glare, and then, knowing I’m not going to be able to slither out from under Rem’s radar, I shrug. “It’s just work stuff, bro.”

There is no way in hell I’m going to tell him what it really is. Especially since my sister would read into shit and try to make it sound like it’s something more. Lord knows, she’d be chomping at the bit over the idea of me bringing a woman on a work trip. Probably start rambling on about relationships and love shit again like she did last summer at our Fourth of July getaway at Uncle Brad and Aunt Paula’s lake house.

Just the amount I’m checking my phone proves that this isn’t anything except having fun, because if it weren’t, I’d be running so fast in the opposite direction, the people from Guinness would hire a jet car to drive them along and catch up with me, just so they could record the new champion. Sophie has more than proven she’sa lotof fucking fun, and I’m eager for the opportunity for more.

Yeah, so much so that you haven’t thought about any other woman since she made her big debut at Club Craze…

I don’t have time to address that stupid thought because Rem is still staring at me with one quirked brow. His face downright calls me out, and I know I need to give him a little more or else he’ll just ride my ass for the rest of dinner.

“All right, fine,” I admit. “It’s half work stuff and half…” I grin and waggle my brows. “Other kind of stuff that I can’t say right now or else Mom and Winnie will get pissed at me.”

Winnie scoffs. “What’s the flavor of the moment’s name?”

Flavor of the moment?I almost laugh. Maybe people need to focus a little more on the woman sitting beside Ty at my mom’s dinner table. The redhead —Carrie?—has barely eaten anything and has said even less, and we all pretend like it’s just normal.

Yet they want to worry about Sophie Sage? Internally, I scoff.

“Mind your business, Win,” I respond to my sister, keeping it simple rather than hurting her feelings by repeating our mom’s earlier words, and she snorts.

“What?”That snort turns into an outright cackle. “If you’re starting to get all hush-hush with your weekly conquests, I’m going to think you’ve suffered a head injury somewhere along the line.”

“You say that like I’m always blabbing about my business.” I shake my head. “I don’t need to flap my gums. My mouth gets plenty of exercise inotherways.”

“Oh my God,” my sister counters and fakes a gagging motion with her finger. “Gross, Jude.”

“Do you do some form of oral calisthenics I haven’t heard of? Is it recommended by the National Board of Health?” Lexi asks, and that makes all the adults at the table, myself included, have to fight to keep a straight face.

“Definitely recommended,” Ty interjects, playing for my team for the first time during this meal. The woman at his side turns beet red, my mom looks to the ceiling—likely praying to God for salvation—and Winnie looks ready to inject some shit under my toenails and leave me to rot while she goes on with her life, having committed the perfect murder undetected.

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