“Corn dogs,” she tells him.
Is it just me, or is she intentionally avoiding looking at me?
Whatever did I say about my willy—my corn dog?
And why do I keep thinking of it as a willy dog?
“No fish?” Eddie whines.
“We take what we can get without causing a ruckus,” I tell him.
“Yeah, Eddie,” Charlie says. “I want two corn dogs and a burger. Do all of those come with fries, or do I need to order fries separate?”
“They all come with fries,” Bea says.
“Good. Do you do onion rings?”
“Oh, sneaky sneaky, are we?” She smiles at him. “Did you know that’s the secret menu side today, or are you just an onion ring kind of guy?”
“That’s my secret, but I’ll tell you if you tell me if you shagged my dad last?—”
I clamp my hand over his mouth. “Enough, young man. Onlyonecorn dog for him with his burger, and no onion rings.”
Eddie grins. “Can I get four corn dogs and a burger and two onion rings if I don’t ask if she shagged you?”
Hudson leans out the window. “Are you two talking shit about my sister?” he growls.
Both of my boys leap back, clearly startled.
None of my security team attempts to protect them.
“And that’s what happens when you don’t mind your manners,” I tell them. “Apologize to Ms. Best.”
“You’re being a stick-in-the-mud like Mom,” Eddie mutters.
“We don’t ask ladies who they’re shagging.” My head hurts entirely too much for this. Why did I think the toddler years were difficult? “It’s rude at best and will land you in a police cell for harassment at worst.”
“Speaking of jail, you didn’t have to sleep it off at the pokey palace last night, did you?” Bea asks me.
The pokey palace.
Calling a jail cellthe pokey palacewould be bloody hilarious were I not suddenly sweating merely because she looked at me.
“We got him home safe and sound as promised,” Tank tells her.
Finally, she smiles at me, those dimples popping out and warmth coming into her lovely green eyes. “Feeling okay?”
“Bloody awful,” I confess, though her smile, when aimed at me—it’s helping.
Tremendously.
I might be in a spot of trouble here.
“Awful in a you-need-another-corn-dog kind of way, or awful in a please-just-give-me-fries-and-a-Coke kind of way?”
I straighten. “Fries and a Coke, please.”
“You got it. How many corn dogs, hamburgers, fries, and drinks for the rest of them?”
