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I turn to him. “How old are you, five?”
“Come on, admit it, big brother, you like her.”
“I don’t even know her.”
“As you said, you know enough. Personally, I think she’s fantastic.”
“Well, considering you’re engaged to the she-devil, the bar isn’t exactly set very high.”
“That’s quite insensitive, don’t you think?”
“I’ll tell you what’s insensitive,” I growl. “Telling Poppy her mother’s probably like ours.”
“Well, I’m not lying. It’s a common trait in mothers.”
“Her mother abandoned her when she was a baby, dickhead.”
“Ah, fuck.”
“Right. And then there’s the whole, ‘Thanks to Granny and the trust funds she left us’, comment. Poppy’s grandmother is on her deathbed, and the only thing she’s leaving her granddaughter is a mountain of debt.”
“Double fuck.”
“She doesn’t know I know any of this, but I saw her face drop the second you opened your big fat mouth.”
“We should help her,” Nolan says. “But how do we do it without making her feel like she needs saving?”
“Fucked if I know,” I reply. “Trying to help her is how I got into this mess in the first place.”
“You’ve got to admit, she’s a pretty little mess, though.”
My head snaps in his direction, and when my eyes narrow, the fucker smiles. I swear he said that to get under my skin. “Just worry about your own woman,” I snap.
He barks out a laugh as he shakes his head. “We can strategise over dinner.”
“I’m not taking you to dinner.”
“Can I see the dessert menu, please?” my brother asks the waitress as she collects our plates.
“Are you seriously going to order more food? Haven’t you had enough?”
“You’re paying, so I’m going to make the most of it.”
“I never said I’m paying,” I grumble.
Nolan grins. “You also said you weren’t taking me to dinner, yet here we are.”
“How are we even related?”
“Do you seriously need a lesson on the birds and the bees? Because if I even have to think about Mum and Dad ... you know, doing it ... I’m probably going to regurgitate everything I ate.”
“Doing it? Seriously. And I don’t need any kind of lessons from you. I’m the older and superior brother, after all.”
“Hmm,” he hums smugly, like he doesn’t believe me.
“Whatever,” I murmur. “And make sure you order something you can eat with one hand. I’m not cutting up your dessert like I did your steak.”
“I’ll try my best,” he says with a sly grin, which tells me he’s going to do anything but. “So how are we going to help Pop?”
