The Secret (Winslow Brothers 3)

I can’t help it, though. Nothing about me seems to be functioning as normal—except my ears. Judging by how clearly I can hear the conversation that continues in the kitchen following my absence, I’d say they’re working just fine.

“Is it just me, or is Ty acting really weird?” Winnie whispers as I walk down the hallway to the front foyer.

“He does seem out of sorts,” Sophie agrees quietly.

“And he didn’t even bring some random woman to dinner,” Winnie adds. “He came alone. He never comes alone.”

Her words make me pause in the middle of the hall and change gears from overhearing by happenstance to eavesdropping with purpose.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Mom,” Winnie continues to blather. “Think back to all of our family dinners and get-togethers over the past ten freaking years. Can you think of a single time when Ty didn’t have some random chick on his arm?”

“Winnie, stop it,” our mother chastises. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Dude, what are you doing?” Remy asks from right next to me, startling me so much with his presence that my back bumps into the hallway wall. He doesn’t dally, instead bypassing me completely and heading straight for the door I was supposed to answer.

I sigh. Lord knows that bastard will tell all the Winslow women about this, and I’ll have to deal with more whispered worry. Great. With a shake of my head, I start walking again, just as Remy opens the door.

“Uh, hey… Can I help you?” Rem asks, and I step up behind him just as the door swings the rest of the way open in the wind.

Standing at the threshold is a beautiful woman with a wild mane of light-brown curls. Her gaze moves from Rem to me as I study her, and then our eyes meet. And I don’t miss the instant recognition that appears on her pretty face.

Shit. Did I invite her here tonight? And if I did, when the fuck did I secure this date? I know I haven’t been on my A game mentally, but this is—

“Oh. She’s with you.” Rem glances back at me. “I should have fucking known.”

Without another word or even a hello, my eldest brother retreats back down the hallway, smacking me on the shoulder as he goes.

I look back at the gorgeous woman on the threshold, studying her closer, and eventually, I decide to just go with it. I mean, it’s pretty damn obvious she knows who I am. It’s written all over her face. And there’s something about her that seems familiar to me too. Fuck it. “Well, you certainly are my type. Did I ask you to come here tonight?”

Dude. Way to make her feel awkward.

She mutters something I can’t hear or understand, nerves obviously getting the better of her, and I know I have to right the situation and try to make her feel less like a woman who was invited to dinner by a man who doesn’t remember and more like a woman who came to family dinner with a man she barely knows. I’m not sure either of those is a great option, but the latter has to be better than the first. “Come on. Let’s head to the kitchen and get a drink. We’re about to start dinner soon.”

Upon my return to the kitchen, I note that everyone is back in the house, chatting and laughing around the center island.

“Well, dang!” Jude shouts with a slap to the quartz counter, wrapping his arm around Sophie. “I thought that was gonna be Flynn at the door. For once, I can actually attend family dinner because we’re not working around Winnie’s schedule and doing it on nights I’m at work. I’m ready to enjoy this feast!”

“Stop whining, Jude,” Sophie retorts with a wry grin. “You know Flynn will be here any minute. He’s reliable.”

That makes me laugh. “Unlike the rest of us, right, Sophie?”

She shrugs. “You said it. Not me.”

Everyone in my family moves their eyes toward me and the woman I’ve nearly forgotten about again who is standing beside me. They move their gazes in other directions quickly, just like they always do, and I take a minute to evaluate how their prolonged indifference to all my dates makes me feel.

I come to a conclusion pretty easily. If I had any moral high ground to stand on, I should be offended. But I’m the man who completely forgot he invited her to dinner, so…yeah…it’s safe to say I have no room to feel snubbed from my place in the center of this metaphorical crater.

Oh well.

A few minutes later, my mom announces we’re ready to eat, and I gently guide my date to the table. We’ve not spoken in all that time, and it occurs to me that I don’t know even the first thing about her.

You think you should try to figure out her name, you douchebag, and stop being such a dick?