Page 3 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
“Right.” I take another sip of beer. “Tequila. I kind of remember now.”
“Jesus Christ, Ryan.” Jay shakes his head. “You know, for a guy who’s about to go on a show specifically designed to help you fall in love, you sure have a shitty track record with actual human connection.”
“I connect just fine. We had a good time. We spent the night at her place. She made excellent French toast.”
“You didn’t even remember her name.”
I point at her. “I remembered the French toast.”
Jay stares at me for a long moment. I can practically see him gearing up for one of his lectures. Being friends for so many years means I know all his tells. The way he’s drumming his fingers against the table means he’s about to get philosophical.
Shoot me.
“You know what your problem is?” he says finally.
“I can’t wait for you to tell me.”
“Your problem is that you treat dating like a drive-through. Quick, efficient, no lingering afterward to see if you actually liked the experience.”
I laugh, but there’s no real humor in it. “At least I don’t pretend it’s more than it is. I’m honest about what I want and what I can give. People say ‘love’ when they mean ‘you’ll regret this later.’”
“You’re like a Waffle House,” Jay muses. I notice he is just straight up ignoring my cynicism. “Open all night, zero emotional ambiance, but somehow people keep coming back.”
“But the food’s good, right? You’ve never personally been stabbed there.”
“Depends on your definition of good. Safe, too.” He pauses. “Speaking of safe, at least I sleep easy knowing there’s one woman in the world you’ll never corrupt.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Just one? I’m losing my touch.”
After a long pause, he says, “I know I probably don’t need to say this, but keep your dick in your pants when it comes to my baby sister. I don’t need you messing with Wren’s head. She’s not one of the girls you usually hook up with.”
My eyebrows rise and I feel heat creep up my neck. The idea of me and Wren together is heinous.
“Come on. You know I’d never?—”
“No, I don’t. You’re reckless when you’re bored. So I’ll say it again. Don’t touch her.”
“Jesus, man.” I squint at him. “Wren hates me. So I’m pretty sure you’re safe there.”
“Thank God,” Jay says. His voice takes on that protective big brother tone that always makes me want to mess with him. “I never want to have to worry about you trying to sleep with her.”
The mention of Wren sends an automatic spike of irritation through my system. She’s a pretty little redhead with a serious attitude problem when it comes to me. “She would rather marry a ferret.”
“And you’d probably still flirt with the ferret.”
“Only if it had good French toast-making skills.” I lean back in my seat, already feeling the familiar pattern of our Wren-related banter settling into place. “Besides, your sister made it pretty clear what she thinks of me last Christmas.”
“Oh, you mean when she called you an emotionally bankrupt caveman?”
“She also told me she’d rather wax her own bikini line with duct tape than be caught dead flirting with me.”
“Jesus!” Jay sputters, spitting out foam and beer. “Don’t talk about Wren’s bikini line. And she’s not wrong. You do have the emotional depth of a puddle.”
“A very attractive puddle.” I flex my biceps. “A puddle that gets a lot of women.”
His lips twitch. “With good puck handling skills.”
“And excellent taste in beer.”
