Page 7 of The Winslow Brothers

Jude groans.

Ty cracks up.

Flynn just stands there, mildly amused by my revenge shenanigans.

And I watch on in utter satisfaction when Jude has to hand over two fifty-dollar bills just to cover our—mostly,my—food.

Suck on that, baby bro.

Jude

Remy ordered everything off the menu. On my fucking tab.

He sits across from me in the cramped booth, his big, muscular shoulders trying their hand at ramming away even the air in their proximity, savoring bite after bite of his Taco Bell loot. Each chew is punctuated with a glower in my direction, his dark hair, bright-blue eyes, and annoyingly good-looking face doing nothing to lessen their intensity, even though it seems like they should.

He’sstillpissed at me. Which, after buying him fifty bucks’ worth of fast food, you’d think he would at least stop mean-mugging me. Nevertheless, the angry force is strong with this one.

“Come on, Remy, you’re going to have to forgive me at some point,” I say, trying my best to lighten his spirits and get him to loosen the fuck up. For a man who is about to marry the love ofhis life in less than a week, you’d think he’d be a little happier on the night of his bachelor festivities.

I mean, he just got tits and ass shoved in his face.

Sure, there was the whole tearing-of-his-boxers thing, but it’s not like his dick was actually in danger. Sunshine is the utmost exotic-dancing professional. Trust me, I could tell.

Rem doesn’t even humor me with a response. Instead, he unwraps a burrito and shoves a bite into his mouth. Frankly, I’m shocked he’s managed to eat this much. But then again, I guess spite can be one hell of a motivator.

“Seriously, Rem, I’ll even give you my underwear if you’re thattornup about the strip club.”

That earns me a glare.

But also, a high five from Ty.

Technically speaking, Ty doesn’t even know what he’s cheering on since he missed the whole boxer debacle, but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I’ve got an idea, Jude,” Remy announces, his first words in the last twenty minutes. “How about you give Charlotte a call and explain to her why her fiancé is going to arrive home with destroyed boxers.”

That takes me aback. “You want me to call Char?”

He nods.

Ah, fuck. I didn’t take that scenario into consideration when I told the strippers to do somethingreallyspecialandcrazy formy big brother’s bachelor party. Pretty sure “Blow his fucking mind” were my exact words, but I should probably keep that to myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Char like a sister, but I don’t want to be the one to tell her I’m the reason her soon-to-be husband got up close and personal with T&A tonight.

When I don’t respond, Remy pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and slides it across the table. “Go ahead, man. Give her a call.”

“Are you sure you want me to call her, like, now?” I question. “I mean, she’s probably sleeping, right?”

“She’s awake.” He shakes his head. “She just finished up a late presentation for work. Got a text from her about ten minutes ago.”

Shit.

“Uh oh…looks like someone’s scared to call his future sister-in-law to let her know he’s the reason Rem got molested by a gang wearing G-strings and body glitter,” Ty teases, and I reach across the booth to smack him upside the head, but he dodges it on a laugh.

“I’m not scared.” I’mdefinitelyscared.

I’m a people person through and through, but when it comes to pissing off women, I’m more of a lover not a fighter. I like to charm them. Wine and dine them. But I certainly don’t like to be the bearer of bad news. Hell, it’s probably one of the reasons why I rarely find myself in long-term relationships. I don’t want to be the reason for someone’s broken heart. I’d rather get the fuckout before feelings are caught than wait around for the likely implosion.

“You’re scared,” Ty teases some more.

---