Free Redwood Bend by Robyn Carr Page B

loudly.
“Well, if they’d had dinner with you, they wouldn’t want you, but still…”
“I’ll go,” Dylan said. He shrugged. “I need the restroom anyway. And I used to hate going in the girls’.”
“Sucks, huh?” Mitch asked.
“Anything special I should know?” he asked as he was sliding out of the booth. “Like, should I watch for cherry bombs in toilets?”
“Just watch for water sports,” she said. “Of all kinds.”
“Gotcha,” he said. “Come on.”
But they weren’t coming with him, they were way ahead of him, running through McDonald’s to the men’s room, slamming into said facility, so that he had to pick it up a notch to keep up with them. When he got into the bathroom, they were standing there, waiting. He just stared at them for a second. “I thought we had to pee,” he said. “Let’s do it.” And he held open a stall door because these guys were big for five-year-olds, but not quite tall enough for the urinals. “Seats up, please.”
And, being twins, they gathered around the same bowl together rather than taking separate stalls. He just shook his head and laughed.
Andy looked over his shoulder at Dylan. “You gonna watch?”
“S’cuse me,” Dylan said. He made his way to the urinal and prepared. In just seconds the toilet in the stall flushed and there were two little boys, one on each side of him, which went a long way to creating an embarrassed bladder. He lifted a brow and peered at them. “Are you? Gonna watch?”
And they nodded.
Dylan leaned a hand against the wall and kept his groan inside. He sought composure. Finally he peered at the one he thought was Andy. “Could I have a little space, please?”
Though he’d only spoken to one, they stepped back as they both got the message. Then turning as one, they bolted out of the lavatory. “Hey!” And there he was, stuck with his dick in his hand, doing absolutely nothing. “Crap,” he muttered, zipping up.
When he got back to their booth, there was only Katie. “Everything go all right?” she asked.
“Curious little buggers, aren’t they?”
“Oh, no,” she said, color rising to her cheeks on a laugh.
“No biggie,” Dylan said. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, indicating her half of a Big Mac.
“Hmm,” she said, lifting it and taking a small bite. After she chewed and swallowed, she said, “My meal usually waits until they’re done with theirs. I was a little busy.”
“Where are they? Were they taken into custody?”
“Playground.” She leaned to the left to look past Dylan. “My secret weapon. I can keep an eye on them from here. I try to choose restaurants for their distraction devices. They’re like littermates—they listen to each other more than me, sometimes. A place to burn off some energy works to my advantage.” She popped a French fry. “Are you a little uncomfortable around kids, Dylan?”
“Me? Not at all. I like kids.”
“And yet, you’ll never marry?”
He tilted his head, looking at her, and made a snap decision. No reason they shouldn’t have cards on the table. He had kissed her, after all, even if it was a completely impetuous and probably foolish move. That he’d never, ever done this with a woman before didn’t cross his mind. He followed another one of those instincts that were beginning to take over his life. “Well, I come from a broken home,” he said. “A very broken one. Many failed marriages among my immediate and extended family.”
She lifted a curious brow and took a small bite of her burger.
“My mother has been married four times, my father was married three times before his death, which was premature. That gives me lots of half brothers and sisters and stepbrothers and -sisters, many of whom have been married a couple of times or more. It probably has us all screwed up, but the thing that really works on me is what it does to kids—it can make kids feel so bad about themselves. I totally understand there are times it just can’t be avoided and the