“If you want me to talk to her—” I start, but all three jump in with instantnos.
“You’d have to admit why it mattered,” Lucky says to me.
“And she won’t believe someone as hot as you would be asking because you wanted to date one of us,” Jack adds.
Decker pulls a face. “Seriously? I just ate.”
“We only just found out we’re related,” Jack says. “How many times have you passed an attractive woman on the street and thought,oh, she’s pretty, and then wondered if you thought that because she looks kinda like you, which, duh, is attractive because we’re hot ourselves, but not knowing who our dad is means that maybe we would’ve been related?”
“Don’t ever say any of that out loud again,” Decker says.
Jack grins at me like he’s irritating Decker on purpose, which makes me once again suck in a smile.
Daphne will love these three.
Lucky looks at Rhys. “As someone who’s not related to her and someone who probably has reason to actively dislike her, would you say Margie’s hot?”
Thoughts of my sister flee my brain as my stomach dips and my heart goes for a run without permission.
I lock eyes with Rhys again.
He makes a show of looking me up and down, getting a shove from Jack and a glare from Decker and a soft growl from Lucky.
“You asked,” Rhys says to Lucky.
“I didn’t mean mentally strip her while we sit here, asshole.”
Rhys shrugs. “She’s all right.” He tilts his head at me. “Maybe if I picture her as a blonde…”
Jack shoves him again while I stifle a twitch at one more of Rhys’s little pokes at knowing who I really am, then all four men go still and silent.
A second later, the server pops into our little curtained area with a point-of-sale machine. Decker hands her his credit card without looking at the total, then signs the machine and takes his card back.
“Whatever you’re up to, make sure it’s memorable,” she says to the group of us as she departs with a grin.
“Sometimes I hate living in a small town,” Decker mutters.
“Dude. Sometimes you hate everything,” Jack replies.
“If too many people figure it out?—”
“Your dad has no idea, does he?” I ask softly.
All three of them, plus Rhys, look at me.
“Why would you think that?” Jack says.
“He took a DNA test himself, didn’t he? Why would he do that if he knew it would make a record for you to link with—or not link with—later?”
The amount of silent communication going on between the triplets is telling.
“We got it for him for his birthday,” Lucky tells me.
“I did the log-in. He doesn’t have it,” Jack adds.
“Hates computers,” Decker says.
“Hatescomputers,” Lucky agrees.
