Page 185 of Three Reckless Words

No matter what I do, though, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something vital. That uneasy hollow in the pit of my stomach doesn’t fade, and I’m positive it’s there thanks to Winnie.

Look, I’m not like Rina. I’m not the New Agey type who believes in premonitions or sixth senses or what the hell ever.

Right now, I’m just a man who’s brutally worried because she left and I don’t know how to get her back.

The best thing that’s ever happened to me, and she’s gone in a flash.

Patton and Dexter turn up at seven o’clock sharp, just as I’m plating up a spicy pasta dish Colt promptly grabs and takes to his room so he can go right back to ignoring me.

I damn near bite my tongue off, choosing to back down and let it slide.

If I force him to eat with me at the table like a civilized person, it’ll turn into a fight for sure, and neither of us need to turn on each other more.

Too bad my brothers had to come. I don’t know if it’s to save me or toss me straight into the fire.

“So, did you talk to her yet?” Patton asks when I let them both inside.

“You’ve been ignoring us all day,” Dexter adds.

Yeah. I think I’d rather wrestle Colt to the dinner table than take love advice from these two.

“And naturally, you thought the best way to handle the situation was to barge in here and pester me?” I snort.

Patton smirks, his favorite expression. Like always, I hope his nerves misfire and it gets locked on his face.

“It’s not like we were getting anywhere with hoping you’d get back to us.”

Shit. I’m trapped with a pair of hyenas.

“Since you’re here… dinner? I can set a few more plates.” I gesture to the table and the pasta still on the stove.

“Nah,” they say in unison.

“Junie’s making that chicken with the mushroom cream sauce when I get back,” Dexter says smugly.

“Where did you bury your inner health freak after you killed him, Dex? You must’ve put on ten pounds since the wedding.” My lip curls.

“Lucky man. I’m on dinner duty when I get back,” Patton says.

“You can cook?” Dexter raises an eyebrow.

“Better than you. It’s amazing what a wife and kid will do for your food game.”

“Your game is recycling the same six recipes biweekly. You wouldn’t know a cookbook if the whole library in Mom’s pantry fell on your head,” I growl.

As happy as I am for their domestic bliss, I don’t need them rattling on about it in my dining room right after I detonated relations with the only woman I’ve wanted to cook for in ages.

So I fold my arms and lean back in my chair, studying them slowly.

I don’t have time or patience for this shit.

“If you’re not going to say anything useful, get out. I’m not in the mood tonight.” I glare at them.

“Damn, Arch, Winnie never had a prayer when you’re just dripping in charisma,” Patton deadpans.

“I mean it, dickhead.” I set my jaw.

“Okay, so let’s talk about Winnie since that’s why we’re here. Colt told me you crapped the bed,” Dexter says. “What happened? I thought you were going to smooth things over?”

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