Page 62 of More Than Pen Pals

I try not to cringe when she captures her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You won’t get anywhere with that one.” My brother nods his head toward me as he fails to keep his eyes above Tammy’s neck. “He only has eyes for one woman. I, on the other hand—”

I kick him under the table.

His gaze shoots to me and then finally up to Tammy’s face. “I’ll take a Guinness.” He gives her a sultry look. “Please and thank you.”

“Anything to eat?” She taps her pen on her order pad, unmoved by his attention, though he doesn’t seem to notice.

“No,” Randall says.

“We’ll take some fries,” I say. He can’t keep drinking on an empty stomach. I know my brother well enough to be certain he didn’t eat lunch after his call with Colleen. He doesn’t eat when he’s upset.

“I’m not going to eat any,” he declares as the waitress walks away. He watches her instead of looking at me.

“Eyes over here, buddy,” I say.

“I’m appreciating what God gave her,” he protests.

“You’re thinking you want to be the one to take her home, which is a terrible idea.”

“Nope. Quick way to get Colleen out of my system.”

“Nope. Quick way to get yourself into trouble in more ways than one.”

“Why did I invite you, again?”

“You tell me, but I’m not leaving you to get drunk alone and take random women home.”

“She’s not random. I know her name and where she works.”

“Whatever. Also, you’re going to eat those fries if I have to force them down your throat.”

thirty-one

“Leslie Anne Beckett, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

I’m speechless. What on God’s green earth would make Glenn think I have any desire to marry him after what he did?

“Should I take your silence to mean you’re so overcome with joy you can’t speak?” he asks hopefully.

“No!” I push his hands and the box away. “Put that away. I don’t want to marry you.” I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.

“But I thought you wanted to be with me. You were so upset when we broke up.”

The waitress appears with our drinks. When she spies the diamond ring, her eyes widen.

“Oh! Sorry to interrupt this big moment.” She glances back and forth between the two of us with a smile, clocks my not-so-happy demeanor, sets the drinks down, and scurries off.

I reach over and snap the jewelry box shut. “Why would you think I want to marry you after you broke up with me for getting a job in Chicago?”

“Baby, that’s not why I broke up with you.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” I retort.

“I broke up with you because I thought if I did, you’d stay.”

The man is making zero sense. “What kind of backward logic is that?”

---