“Wait for me,” Matthew yelled from the kitchen. “Jordan cleaned me out last time. It’s time I returned the favor.”
“You’ll be lucky,” Jordan scoffed. “It takes more than a pretty face to beat the maestro.”
Matthew walked into the living room carrying a plate of hot dogs. “You might want to reconsider when you see what I’ve got.”
As far as hot dogs went, they were spectacular. Each bun was smothered in fried onions and enough ketchup and mustard to meet all major nutritional requirements.
Brett helped himself to a hot dog. “Has your fiancée been teaching you how to cook?”
“Nope. I did this myself. I thought we needed to lift our cuisine selection above Jordan’s basic skill set.”
“You didn’t complain when you were eating my pizza.”
“I was worried about hurting your feelings. After you robbed me of twenty bucks, I changed my mind.” Matthew bit into a hot dog. “Yum.”
Brett handed Jordan one. “Here, take this. It might be your last meal if Matthew cleans you out.”
“Sarah loves me. She wouldn’t let me starve.”
“She will if you keep annoying her.” Trent reached for his drink. “I saw Pat today. He talked nonstop about the carol competition. His favorite nurse was there.”
Brett choked on an onion ring.
“Someone’s been holding out on us.” Trent looked pointedly at him.
Matthew grabbed a napkin and handed it to Brett. “You’ve been dating someone without telling us?”
“I haven’t dated anyone.”
“Exactly,” Trent said. “Pat was worried that you’d forgotten how to talk to a woman.”
Brett picked up his soda. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m doing fine.”
Jordan looked confused. “Rewind the conversation. I got lost when you said Brett is dating someone.”
Brett sighed. “I’m not dating anyone. I met Hannah Williams on Sunday at the retirement village. Pat has a soft spot for her and thought I should ask her on a date.”
Jordan’s eyebrows rose. “Wouldn’t she be a little old for you?”
“She’s not a resident,” Brett growled. “Hannah and her sister, Claire, own a business called Perfect Staging. They organized the Christmas carol competition.”
Trent frowned. “What’s wrong with her?”
“There’s nothing wrong with her.”
“Why don’t you ask her on a date, then?” Jordan asked.
Heat rushed up Brett’s neck.
Trent grinned. “You chickened out.”
“Oh, man,” Jordan said. “You really need our advice. Talking to a woman isn’t that hard.”
Trent made a scoffing sound. “Your wife might disagree with you.”
“You know what they say,” Jordan said. “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Marrying your wife in Las Vegas when she was drunk isn’t the way to win a woman’s heart.”
“But I got there in the end,” Trent said with a smile.
