Jude shuts up immediately.
When Flynn voices that something is bad, it means it was really fucking bad. Always the quiet one of our brood, he only speaks up for two reasons: to call someone out on their bullshit or to drop perfectly timed sarcasm that’ll keep you laughing for months.
His wit is quick as a whip, but his mouth rolls slow. If he bothers to take the time to insult you, he means it.
“Wait…why do you guys keep talking about the stripper’s shoes?” Ty asks. “She had shoes on?”
Jude bursts into laughter, and I glance back to catch Flynn’s amused smirk.
Ty, frighteningly enough, still looks genuinely confused. How in the fuck does he not know what we’re talking about?
“Fuck, Ty. My boxers have lost all vestiges of function. She literally shoved one of her stilettos into them and ripped them to shreds. Are you seriously telling me you missed that?”
His jaw drops, and his eyes go wide in shock. “No fucking way.”
“Jesus,” I mutter. “All it takes is a nice set of tits and you’d miss a fucking five-alarm fire.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Rem,” Ty retorts. “I like tits, but they’re no match for a nice, firm ass. Which Sunshine definitely had.”
I sigh. “You’re splitting hairs.”
“Kind of like how Sunshine split your boxers open?” Jude questions, and I turn around to meet his gaze.
“I made a promise to myself to try not to murder you tonight, but man, Jude, you’re really fucking with my will to follow through.”
He starts to laugh, but when he sees the stern look on my face, he quickly changes his tune. “How about I buy tonight?”
“You want to pay for my Taco Bell?” I question and slide both of my hands into my pockets.
Since I’m the eldest brother in the Winslow brood and I’ve been making money off day-trading on Wall Street since I was twenty, I’m generally the one who picks up the checks. Tonight, though, I’d say I’ve more than earned the reprieve, so I don’t try to talk him out of it.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Please accept this Taco Bell as my formal apology for making you endure tits in your face.”
“And pussy,” Ty offers slyly. “Pretty sure I saw some beavs being shoved in his face too.”
“You’re not helping,” Jude retorts, and Ty smirks.
“What? Just wanted to make sure the facts were straight.”
“Says the guy who was too busy staring at stripper ass and G-strings to notice that his oldest brother’s dick was almost amputated by a fucking shoe,” Flynn chimes in, and Ty just shrugs him off.
“Insignificant details.”
I start to open my mouth to let Ty know that if he keeps referring to the “insignificant” details as insignificant, he might want to get his living will in order, but the sound of a female voice behind me catches my attention before I can officially threaten him.
“Are you guys planning on eating or…?”
I turn around to find a brunette, who doesn’t look a day over eighteen, standing behind the register with a scowl that she gives zero fucks about hiding.
Her face tells me all I need to know. She hates this job, which means she hates us by mere association.
I can’t blame her, though. My brothers are obnoxious assholes.
“Sorry,” I apologize, trying my best to smooth it over. “And yeah. We’re going to order.” I point over my shoulder to Jude. “I’ll be on that idiot’s tab.”
“Okay…and?” she questions, one hand to her hip while the other rests lazily on the register.
“And?”
She blinks and breathes a deep breath in and out of her nose. “Your order…”
“Right. Right,” I respond and look up toward the menu. “I’ll take two beef tacos, two chicken soft tacos, two burritos, two—”
“Wait… Are you ordering everyone’s food?” Jude asks, eyes confused.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m just ordering mine.”
His eyebrows rise to his forehead. “That’s all for you?”
“Yeah,” I respond and flash a wink in his direction. “Along with…” I pause and turn back to the girl. “I’ll also take a quesadilla, chips and cheese dip, two bags of cinnamon twists, a Mexican pizza, and a large Mountain Dew, and then—” I point toward Jude again “—whatever he’s having.”
Jude groans.
Ty cracks up.
Flynn just stands there, mildly amused by my revenge shenanigans.
And I watch on in utter satisfaction when Jude has to hand over two fifty-dollar bills just to cover our—mostly, my—food.
Suck on that, baby bro.
Jude
Remy ordered everything off the menu. On my fucking tab.
He sits across from me in the cramped booth, his big, muscular shoulders trying their hand at ramming away even the air in their proximity, savoring bite after bite of his Taco Bell loot. Each chew is punctuated with a glower in my direction, his dark hair, bright-blue eyes, and annoyingly good-looking face doing nothing to lessen their intensity, even though it seems like they should.
He’s still pissed at me. Which, after buying him fifty bucks’ worth of fast food, you’d think he would at least stop mean-mugging me. Nevertheless, the angry force is strong with this one.
“Come on, Remy, you’re going to have to forgive me at some point,” I say, trying my best to lighten his spirits and get him to loosen the fuck up. For a man who is about to marry the love of his life in less than a week, you’d think he’d be a little happier on the night of his bachelor festivities.
I mean, he just got tits and ass shoved in his face.
Sure, there was the whole tearing-of-his-boxers thing, but it’s not like his dick was actually in danger. Sunshine is the utmost exotic-dancing professional. Trust me, I could tell.
Rem doesn’t even humor me with a response. Instead, he unwraps a burrito and shoves a bite into his mouth. Frankly, I’m shocked he’s managed to eat this much. But then again, I guess spite can be one hell of a motivator.
“Seriously, Rem, I’ll even give you my underwear if you’re that torn up about the strip club.”
That earns me a glare.
But also, a high five from Ty.
Technically speaking, Ty doesn’t even know what he’s cheering on since he missed the whole boxer debacle, but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
“I’ve got an idea, Jude,” Remy announces, his first words in the last twenty minutes. “How about you give Charlotte a call and explain to her why her fiancé is going to arrive home with destroyed boxers.”
That takes me aback. “You want me to call Char?”
He nods.
Ah, fuck. I didn’t take that scenario into consideration when I told the strippers to do something really special and crazy for my big brother’s bachelor party. Pretty sure “Blow his fucking mind” were my exact words, but I should probably keep that to myself.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Char like a sister, but I don’t want to be the one to tell her I’m the reason her soon-to-be husband got up close and personal with T&A tonight.