Page 91 of The Winslow Brothers

I can tell she’s the type of woman who prefers a plan, a well-thought-out scenario. She wants to know what she’s getting herself into before she agrees. And she wants to feel secure in knowing what to expect.

But she’s also someone who can thrive in spontaneous situations. Hell, more than that, she fucking blossoms. She can be impulsive and spur-of-the-moment and even find immense pleasure from those things, but it’s a matter of if she’ll let herself give in to it.

If I’m being honest, I normally wouldn’t bother trying with a woman like her. In the past, I’d consider her hesitancy far too much work for a guy like me, but there’s just something about Sophie that makes me want to spend more time with her.

Have a lot of fucking fun with her.

Do all sorts of dirty, sexy shit with her.

She’s the ultimate challenge—the one woman who wants to experience all the fun I can give but struggles with giving in to that desire.

Man, it’d be a trip to bring her out to Vegas and show her the kind of fun the City of Sin can provide…

The fact that I even have the silly thought to invite her on a work trip makes me shake my head. I’m fucking drugged on her pussy, obviously.

I resign myself to kicking back at the bar and relaxing until she arrives, and with my eyes back to my cell, I check out what my brothers have to say.

Ty: Anyone want to hit a party in the Village with me?

Flynn: Nope.

Ty: You still in Montana?

Flynn: Nope. Just don’t want to go hang out at some hipster party in Greenwich with you.

Ty: It’s not a hipster party, you jackass.

Flynn: Who told you about the party?

Ty: Kip Morlein.

I laugh to myself, already knowing what Flynn’s reaction will be. Ty somehow manages to have the most eclectic groups of friends, and Kip Morlein is a perfect example of that. The man runs an art gallery in Bushwick and is weird as fuck. Super nice, but a total fucking weirdo.

Flynn: LOL. Now, I’m definitely not going. The last time I went to a party that Kip Morlein told you about, they were serving organic wine, and everyone was wearing white dresses like it was some kind of cult.

Ty: You’re fucking dramatic, dude. It wasn’t that bad. And they weren’t dresses, they were togas because it was a theme party.

Flynn: You know, that distinction doesn’t make it sound better.

Ty: The chick he was dating at the time was into all the vegan shit, and the togas made it easier to ensure no one was wearing, like, fur or something.

Remy: How’s that shovel feeling in your hands, bud? Is it heavy? Do you want to stop digging for a while?

Flynn: Haha

Remy: You need to take a page from Flynn’s book and start hanging out with his MC buddies.

Ty: Stop acting like Flynn is hanging out with badass biker dudes on the regular. He spends his time with us, not the Sons of Anarchy.

I can’t stop myself from jumping on the Ty-razzing bandwagon. When you’re the youngest brother out of four, you learn quickly to take every opportunity to join in when you’re not the butt of the joke.

Jude: $100 bucks says Flynn’s MC could take on Ty’s artsy, vegan friends.

Ty: Kip isn’t an artsy vegan, you dick.

Remy: What’s Kip do for a living again, Ty?

I grin, knowing full well where this is headed.

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