The Bet (Winslow Brothers 1)

She nods, and I have to laugh as I walk the distance back to my car. You really never know what to expect at a Winslow gathering, I swear.

I grab another load and repeat the process, until finally, the mysterious blonde and I have all the drinks inside the front hallway. Feeling a little like we share a bond now, I’m just about to ask her name when my brother Ty comes strutting toward us, and she clings to him like a fucking magnet.

Ahh. Okay, now this is making sense.

Ty has brought yet another completely random woman to a family gathering, thus garnering false hope in her heart. At the latest, she’ll be gone by the weekend, wondering how things shifted so quickly from meeting the family to ending.

I shake my head. Poor fucking sap.

She has no clue that this isn’t special—that my brother hasn’t warmed to her with an unmatched connection. Unfortunately, bringing women around the family is just something he does for the fuck of it, I suppose. Truthfully, I don’t know the real psychology behind it, but that doesn’t change the facts. Ty Winslow is a serial dater with just as much contempt for commitment as the rest of us Winslow brothers, and that won’t be changing anytime soon.

“Thanks for the help,” I tell her, not bothering to ask her name.

Her voice is tentative and a little confused as she tells me I’m welcome, and I get it. I’m coming across as super rude, given the visual of what she thinks is going on. But to be honest, this is just par for the course with Ty, and the less I play into this girl’s hope, the better off she’ll be.

I shove Ty in the shoulder as a nonverbal gesture of how big of a fucking idiot he is, and he just smiles, the bastard. I roll my eyes and head down the hall toward the kitchen, the cluck of all the hens loud enough to invade my ears long before I get there.

My mom Wendy, my aunt Paula, my sister Winnie, and Aunt Paula’s longtime friend Bev all stand at the kitchen island, working on various food trays and laughing hysterically.

“Ladies!” I greet enthusiastically, throwing my arms in the air and soaking in all of their responding smiles.

They giggle as I work my way around their campfire, kissing them each on the cheek and even going so far as to give Bev a small slap on the butt. She’s a super-funny lady with a raspy, smoker’s-style laugh, widowed three years ago, and I like to keep the spice alive in her life. Wendy Winslow, of course, hates it quite a bit.

“Jude!” my mom chastises as Bev blushes, and Aunt Paula and Winnie both giggle some more.

“Sorry, sorry,” I apologize, lifting both of my hands in the air defensively. “I just can’t help myself.”

“I don’t mind,” Bev affirms, smiling like the cat who got the cream.

I wink, and the ladies dissolve in a titter again.

“God, please help my son,” my mom pretends to pray, lifting her eyes heavenward. “One day, I pray that he be blessed with impulse control.”

I chuckle and shake my head before placing another kiss on my mom’s cheek. “Sorry, Ma, but I don’t think it’s going to happen if it hasn’t already.”

“Get out of here,” Winnie says playfully, dropping her foodstuffs to shove me in the shoulder toward the back door. “You’re better off out at the grill with the men where there’s no code of conduct.”

I agree with a salute and a bow, and then tuck out the spring-loaded back door as quickly as possible. Trust me, those women are the light of my life, but I’m much better suited to hanging out with the men of the family any day of the week, even if it is cold enough to freeze my nuts off out there.

“Heyyy!”

“Yooo!”

“Jude!”

The guys all yell as I step out onto the porch, and Uncle Brad smiles at me before thumping his palm on the back of my head.

“Hey! What was that for?” I cry, scooting away quickly while Flynn and Remy both laugh ruthlessly at my expense. My brother-in-law Wes smiles but at least has the decency to keep his hilarity on the inside.

“For the gift you got me,” my uncle answers, shooting me with something red and lacy like it’s a slingshot. After a quick juggle, I hold it up curiously, and then I drop it like a hot potato when I discover it’s a women’s thong of unknown origin.

“Wha… I didn’t… That’s not… Uncle Brad!” I stammer, making Remy nearly choke on his beer as Ty comes walking out the back door to join us. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah,” Uncle Brad agrees. “I bet. You know, I think I might know what happened.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, swallowing nervously. No matter what, I don’t think there’s a good way for me to get out of this.