The Bet (Winslow Brothers 1)

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’s a lot of 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 in other ways.”

“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.

“It’s basically just a…uh…well, it’s like writing cursive with your tongue,” Wes tries to smooth it over, but in reality, makes it a hundred times worse.

Remy, Flynn, Ty, and I all dissolve into full-bodied guffaws, and my mom turns to violence, smacking each of us who are within reach, one by one.

“Oh. Could I do it with numbers? I like writing numbers better.”

Winnie glares at me, and I shrug. It’s not my fault, really. I mean, fuck, how was I supposed to see this coming?

Desperate to move on, Winnie changes the subject bluntly. “Oh, before I forget! Lexi’s Mathletes competition is next Thursday night at her school. And we want everyone to be there, right, Lex?”

My niece nods. “Right.”

“Oh, that is so exciting, honey!” my mom comments and claps her hands together. “I can’t wait to see it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it, Lexi Lou,” I answer, smiling over at her as I finally dish some food onto my plate, and Rem, Flynn, and Ty respond with similar sentiments.

Finally feeling a little hungry thanks to the unexpected laugh session, I toss my first bite of spaghetti into my mouth. Simultaneously, my phone buzzes on the table, and despite the nosy-ass family members surrounding me, I check the screen to find a message that makes me smile so big, my fucking face starts to hurt.

Sophie: Okay. This is a crazy request, you realize that, right? Asking me to leave town and go to an unknown destination for two days with a guy I barely know?

Immediately, I type out a response and hit send.

Me: So is having sex in a public restroom, but hey, look how well that turned out. Also, I have too many pairs of your panties at this point to be called “a guy you barely know.”

Sophie: HA. God. Okay, hypothetically, if I say yes, when would we leave?

Me: I’d pick you up around 10 tonight.

Sophie: That’s in, like, three hours!

Me: In my defense, those three hours are like the last 3 of 48. I gave you the same amount of time as detectives have to find a missing person before they turn up dead! I’m not sure if you realize or not, but they have to do a lot of stuff in that amount of time, and with the number of episodes I’ve seen of that show, they’re successful like eighty percent of the time. Surely you can make a simple decision.