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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

JAKE

“You’re shameless,” I tell my sister after the hostess seats us at a prime spot in the cozy back garden. A server appears with menus and a pitcher of water and leaves.

“Why, thank you.” Yvonne’s not at all fazed as she flips through pages. “Hmm, I think champagne is in order.” She turns the menu to Amelia, who gawks at the prices.

Yvonne must see her shock because points at me with her thumb. “He’s paying.”

Amelia spares a glance at me, as if gauging how I’ll respond to this bit of audacity. I shrug. “Have at it. Maybe they even have a magnum.” I had a great night. Why not celebrate?

“Magnums,” Yvonne echoes before whipping her head to Amelia. “Last night—you used protection, right?”

My stomach lurches and my casual amusement evaporates. Amelia told her she had sex?

My gaze crashes into her, but she’s suddenly fixated on the mystery of the napkin folds. Then again, Yvonne’s not casting evil eyes in my direction, either. Okay, so she doesn’t know Amelia had sex with me. Instead, she’s blabbing on. “Or did he not need magnums? Did you see the packaging? Not that it should matter. Sometimes men can level up if they have the right equipment to start with. Of course, I’m not saying size is everything, but…size is kind of everything.”

My attention flits between the two women, and bit by bit, I relax. And they were extra-large magnums. Just saying.

Amelia hides behind the menu as she emits a noise that could be anything from a prayer for invisibility to a coded “send help.”

Yvonne chooses to interpret it as an affirmative and launches into her next question as the server returns. “Speaking of equipment, I hear British men have a little extra going on down there—what’s it like having sex with uncut dick?”

Amelia’s head snaps up right as her jaw drops. Nothing emerges from her for a long second, but then she turns wild eyes to the waiting man. “Champagne! We need some champagne. Please. Now. Yes?”

Taken aback, he peers at her then slides an uncertain glance at me. I nod, and he backs away.

Yvonne taps her chin. “That good? Perhaps I should try it.”

Cringing, I hold my hands up. “Oh no, I do not need to hear about your sex life.”

She doesn’t answer, her attention fixed on Amelia. “What if that was the problem? The lack of the extra appendage? It’s something that you expect but isn’t actually essential. Like cling wrap on a cucumber. You’re just used to it.”

This time, it’s my mouth that drops. Amelia said the sex was bad ? And all of a sudden, I’m torn between wanting to proclaim my proficiency and shutting up since I also wanna know what’s so great about uncut dick.

“It’s possible the guy just needs a bit of help? If verbal instruction isn’t your thing, you could take him here. It’s a French restaurant. Aren’t escargots aphrodisiacs?” Yvonne’s gaze slides to a neighboring table where a platter of escargots slathered in garlic and parsley butter might as well be a grim scene from a garden horror movie.

“I think you mean oysters?” I supply helpfully.

“Nah. It’s all mollusks.” She examines the greasy dish with intensity. I fear for snails everywhere.

The server reappears with our champagne.

I turn back to Amelia. “Bad sex, huh?” I comment drily. She doesn’t glance up. “Lots to compare it to?”

The server retreats a step, possibly reconsidering his career choices. “Umm… I’ll come back for your orders.”

Her chin snaps up, and she glares at me. I smile, enjoying myself more and more by the second. “Perhaps you need to share your criteria in advance. Like, is he going to be scored on position, performance, and stamina?” I tap my bottom lip. “Or is this a star-rating system where you lump it all together?”

If looks could kill… But I can’t resist continuing. “Seems a bit harsh to write him off already. Practice makes perfect.” I waggle my brows at her, though I’m not entirely confident she won’t empty her glass of bubbly over my head.

“I really don’t know how much better a one-starer can get, hardly seems worth the effort.” Amelia shoots back, a defiant glint springing to her eyes.

“One star?”

Before I’m able to challenge that, “Yeah, don’t even bother,” Yvonne butts in. To me, she says, “We’re finding Amelia a man.”

I almost choke, while Amelia yelps, “Yvonne!”

Not that my sister takes any notice because she continues, “Seriously, did you know the asshole she was dating knocked up another woman and is marrying her? Didn’t even have the decency to warn Amelia before he showed up engaged.”

My brows rise higher and higher at this retelling. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Yvonne leans back in her seat. “Nope. Pencil dicks reign. And so we need to stage a sextervention. Find her a rebound.” With surety and a slight smirk, she declares, “After all, it’s a universally acknowledged truth that the best way to get over someone is to sit on someone else. Lots of someone elses.”

I cringe. Yvonne’s dated too many assholes to count. It’s as if she’s allergic to good guys. And now she’s trying to get Amelia on board with her shit? I don’t like the sound of this. At all.

I turn to Amelia. “Sure you don’t want to give last night’s guy another shot?” I glance at my sister. She won’t exactly be thrilled I’ve fucked her friend. But it’s not like she hasn’t slept with mine in the past. Will she really kill me if I sleep with Amelia again? I’ve got to be better than anyone she’s going to cook up.

Meanwhile, Amelia’s clutching her teaspoon as if she’s contemplating its potential as a murder weapon. “No, it was a one-time thing.”

It was a three-time thing. Four for her. Just saying it’s nothing to scoff at. “One time?” I say, raising a brow. Simultaneously, I’m wondering if that’s what last night was. A rebound. I’m usually okay with that, but now I want to scowl, but force myself to keep my expression bland.

Yvonne chimes in. “Yeah, no need for do-overs in the city, not when there’s a whole buffet of men to pick from, and so many ways to get to them: online, speed dating, the bars. If you were a guy, I’d lend you a dog or have Beatrice or one of the others to rent you a kid. Total chick magnet.”

That’s my sister, truly enterprising. And with each option she lists, my outrage ramps up.

“Dating really isn’t a priority right now.”

“Who said anything about dating? We’re talking about sex. Hot, dirty, sex.”

I like the idea of hot dirty sex, part two. But I’m not crazy about her having sex with anybody else because I want a do-over.

“Someone you work with…?” Yvonne speculates, her finger thoughtfully stroking her chin.

But then she screws up her nose as she glances at me. “Nah, forget I said that. You don’t want to do the work folks. At least not the players. They’re total horn dogs. You should see some of the women Jake gets with.” She grimaces. “I’m not slut-shaming or anything, but really, there has to be more to their allure than simply being handy. Not everything requires instant gratification. Why reach for another snack when you’ve barely started the first?”

I mentally facepalm. Fantastic Yvonne. Lump Amelia in with the rest of the after-dinner selection. At this point, I doubt even claiming she’s the tastiest will earn me a second helping.

“Jake’s the king of the one-night stands,” Yvonne adds, all bright and cheerful. Amelia’s face tightens almost imperceptibly.

Yep. That’s the end of my dessert course. Much appreciated, Sis.

She turns to Amelia, practically rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “How about we set up an online profile?”

Oh, so now she’s asking for permission.

Amelia’s already shaking her head, examining her champagne as if she’s considering drowning herself in their bubbles. “No apps.”

Yvonne’s face falls. I wait, ready for her to ramp up her sales pitch. “Fine, fine. Besides, sorting through the weirdos is a full-time job. Maybe I should start a business—hire myself out to people who don’t want to go through the apps themselves,” she muses.

“Filter out the dick pics?” I liked the snail farm idea better.

“Not all. Don’t underestimate the value of a good dick pic. Some of them have their charms.”

“My ears. I do not need to be hearing this,” I cut in. I prefer to pretend all my sisters are virgins, and all the nieces and nephews are the products of immaculate conceptions.

“Discussing dicks is the best way to spend a day,” Yvonne counters. “In fact, there can never be too many cocks in any given location. How better than to pass one’s time than in a space full of men and their prized possessions? You should know, you practically live in a locker room. I mean, are you sure you're not getting paid extra to check out dicks all day?”

“No one pays me to ogle,” I retort.

“Too bad.” She shrugs indifferently. “Well, if you'd like to help me determine which specimens are worthy of our attention, I'm positive we can come up with appropriate compensation.”

“Great, let me go update my job description,” I respond sarcastically. “NFL player and dick pic inspector on the side.”