“Yep,” I snap, waiting on pins and needles to see his response.
Tofu isn’t for everybody, but they make the best at this restaurant. And when it’s fried in a great sauce, the texture is good, and it takes on the flavor of whatever is covering it.
He mutters quietly under his breath, but not loud enough for us to hear. Not even Hazel can make out what I assume is a string of very creative curse words.
Being Wylder, he moves the fork as slowly as he possibly can before placing it in his mouth. He starts to chew and stops, but he doesn’t say a word.
“Well?” I ask.
He chews again and stops, looking down at the plate in the middle of the table.
“Anything?” I ask, trying to get an answer from him.
He swallows, but he makes it look like it was a bunch of knives sliding down his throat.
So dramatic. Typical.
“I’ll tell you if I like it when you tell me how you know my brother.”
“Are you in the MC with him?” I ask, wondering how I would’ve missed Wylder back in the day when I hung out at the compound.
Wylder thankfully shakes his head. “No. I’m not in any club. I ride for fun, but sometimes I hang out with the guys when they’re out for the night.”
“Thank God,” I whisper.
“How do you know him?”
“I knew a few guys in the club.”
“Knew as inknew?”
“I was younger and dumber then.”
“We all go through that period.”
“Did you know my brother, as in know him?”
“What’s that mean?” Hazel asks.
“Don’t worry about it, baby. Eat your egg roll.”
Hazel sticks out her tongue, showing the first bit of attitude before she takes a giant bite out of the vegetable egg roll.
“I met him a few times. He was always nice to me.”
“Shocking,” Wylder says.
“How was the tofu?”
He leans back, setting his fork down. I can’t imagine what’s running through his head, but I can guess it’s nothing good. “It was fine, but I couldn’t eat only that for a meal.”
“That’s why we have rice, veggies, egg rolls, and lo mein.”
There was no need for me to rattle off everything on the table, but I am buying myself time before he hits me with a bunch of questions. I know they’ll come. He’ll have to get answers from me, or else he’ll go straight to his brother and hear all about what happened years ago.
“We’ll finish this conversation later,” Wylder informs me like he’s the boss of this conversation.
I lift my chin, filling my mouth with the biggest piece of tofu on my plate, and give him a thumbs-up. It’s the only thing I can think of to stop myself from cursing him out and having to add a stack of cash to the curse jar too.
