“You want me to freaking lick it too?" Jocelyn snaps. This is awesome. She tears her apron off and throws it at Nick. “You're a sick dick, don't come back to this restaurant again." The woman, Jocelyn, looks over at me. “He's a serial dater who plays dumb to get women to go home with him. Don't fall for it."
The laughter flows. A serial dater who tries to get women to go home with him by acting like a dumbass. It's quite a tactic.
The timing couldn't be better as Wesley walks into the restaurant, looking in every direction before spotting me. I don't have to wave him over because he's moving like a freight train, for a reason I'm not sure I understand. He doesn't owe me anything, nor do I deserve his help tonight.
“Maddy, I'm so glad I found you here. I've been looking everywhere. Mom fell down a flight of stairs, and we have to get to the hospital." He pulled the nickname and brother card to save me. I thought he might come in to claim what isn't his, but I was wrong and just gained a lot more respect for him doing it the way he did.
“Mom fell?" I stammer.
“Yeah, it's her hip. She said there might be a fracture."
“We should get to the hospital," Nick says.
We? He has to be kidding.
“Who are you?" Wesley asks him.
“Madelyn's boyfriend for the evening, and you?" Wesley has made itclear thatwe are related.
“I'm her brother, and what the hell is aboyfriend for the evening?"
“I'm paying for her." There is zero shame in Nick's statement.
Wesley is turning a lovely shade of red, and I'm pretty mortified that there could be a potential thought of me agreeing to this. “You're paying for me?" I question.
“I mean the dating service. Same thing," he says. “Trust me, baby, by the end of the night, you'll be paying me for more … s-e-x."
Wesley recoils before I'm able to digest what Nick just said. “I'm about one-second away from knocking you out, bro. I need my sister to come with me, alone. Here is the money for your dinner." Wesley drops a few twenties down and grabs my hand.
“I still have an hour left with Madelyn," Nick argues.
“Okay," Wesley says, releasing my hand. “Scoot in, Maddy. Mom can wait an hour." I move in toward the wall, and Wesley sits down beside me. I'd say this is awkward, but it's also the most entertaining portion of my week so far.
“Mind if I try some?" Wesley asks me. He dips his finger in the sauce as if he's aware of what just occurred here and licks his finger. Thank God I'm not a germaphobe, but then again, I'm not sure I was planning to eat anything here. “That sauce is killer good."
“That's sick," Nick says.
“Why? We're siblings. We've exchanged germs before." One part of that statement is true, somehow.
“Tomato sauce is a product of the devil," Nick says.
“No, I'm pretty sure Italians came up with it," Wesley retorts. Hey, if things continue this way, I can just sit back and watch the show. “Have you tried it yet, sis?"
I shake my head. “No, I haven't taken a bite yet. The food just arrived before you came in."
Wesley cuts a piece of the chicken up with the edge of the fork and feeds me a bite. I don't think siblings act like this. I'm an only child, but I've seen enough. “Mmm that's delicious," I say with a moan, for fun.
Nick swivels around in his seat again. “Oh, try some—" I tell Wesley.
With a glint in Wesley's eye, he touches his fingertip to the corner of my lip and wipes away a drop of sauce left behind from my bite, then does what any “brother" would do and shoves his sauce-covered finger into his mouth. “Delicious."
The nauseated look on Nick's face tells me he's confused, and it's awesome. “Do you guys have two different dads or moms?" It's the most thought out question Nick has asked all night, and it's a question in need of a great answer.
“Nah, same mom and dad," Wesley answers. “Don't we look alike?" Wesley cheeses a grin and places his cheek against mine. My eyes grow wide and I smile to reciprocate the side by side unidentifiable appearance we're showing off.
“Kind of, I guess," Nick says, snarling.
He cuts into his chicken and takes a small bite, then looks back up at the two of us. We must look like two clowns.
