Nolan sipped on a cup of black coffee, grimaced, and decided that he’d just adjust his calorie count to accommodate a morning soda for his caffeine delivery mechanism. When the waitress brought his food, he ordered a soft drink. Nolan fiddled with his food until the woman brought him his soda, and after that, he tucked into his weekend breakfast of eggs over medium, bacon, and of course, biscuits and gravy.

“Ha! I’d wondered how long you would last with the black coffee,” Cal remarked as he slid into the cracked booth opposite Nolan. He grabbed an overturned mug and poured himself a cup from the carafe, adding cream and sugar to the strong beverage.

Nolan’s snort quickly turned to choking because he aspirated part of a biscuit, and his brother spent the next moments pounding him on the back.

“You good, Nol?” Cal squinted at Nolan, whose beet-red face slowly returned to his natural color.

“Yeah, I’m good. Whew.” He blew a breath out and took a sip of soda before mopping his face with a napkin, which disintegrated in his hands, of course, leaving him with bits of paper stuck to his beard and forehead, much to Cal’s amusement. “Goddangit.” Nolan swatted at the stuck pieces, which made Cal laugh harder until the older brother was practically rolling with mirth.

“I get it all?” Nolan craned his head back and forth, still brushing at his face.

“Sure did. You look fine, Nolan.”

“Bev.” Nolan swallowed hard. He hadn’t seen Beverly for at least a few years. “I . . . thought you moved to Miami.”

“I did. I’m back for my daughter’s baby shower.” She cocked her head, studying Nolan first and then turning to Cal, who was alternating looking at Nolan and the woman, with his eyes wide and jaw dropped.

“You must be Cal. Tobias and Nolan told me all about you.” Bev smiled at Cal.

“Oh, yes. Um. Yeah. I’ve heard about you, too,” Cal stammered.

Nolan looked down at his plate, if only to hide his grin. Cal wasn’t easily flustered, but this conversation with Bev seemed to have the normally outspoken, confident man completely tongue-tied.

Bev flashed a megawatt smile at Cal. “Oh, I’m sure you have.” She turned back to Nolan. “You look good, Nolan. Look me up if you’re ever in Miami.”

“Sure thing,” Nolan lied, secure in the knowledge that Bev never expected to hear from him. “Good to see you, Bev.”

“Likewise, Nolan. Tell Big Brother ‘hi’ for me.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Bye, boys.” Bev wiggled her fingers at the two men and then sashayed her way out of the diner.

Nolan hooted, his earlier embarrassment forgotten. “Oh my Lord. I should have been taking pictures because that was a one-in-a-million look you had on your face, Cal. That was priceless.”

Cal shook his head and leaned his elbows on the table. “It’s not every day that a high-priced escort calls your baby brother by name,” he said in a low voice. “Now, where did Toby meet her, again?”

Nolan shrugged. “Who knows with Toby? You know him—he’s flypaper for freaks.”

“Oh, so she’s a freak, is she?” Cal grinned at Nolan, whose face suddenly flared bright red. “Oh, that’s how it is, is it? I figured you’d had a little crush on her, but there’s something—”

“Stop, Cal.”

“Shit, Nolan. I figure every guy’s gone to a professional once in his life. If not, he needs to.”

“Stop.”

“Why are you getting so wound up?” Cal scoffed. “Jesus, it’s not like she’s around anymore, right? It’s not like you and Miss Fighter Chick are gonna run into her.”

Nolan chuckled softly. “I . . . didn’t want to die a virgin, so Toby hired Bev to . . . when I was well enough to . . . perform.”

Cal’s grin faded. “What? Nolan, you were thirty-five when you had that heart attack. You mean . . .?”

“Yeah.”

“Man, I had no idea.” Cal slumped back against the back of the booth. “And no one since?”

Nolan shook his head. “Pretty pitiful, huh?”

“Nah. I mean . . . whatever. Is this why you’re reluctant to ask Bridget out?”

Nolan inhaled deeply. Was it? It certainly wasn’t helping matters; that was for sure. At a loss for words, he just shrugged. So he’d been a thirty-five-year-old virgin. Hell, if he hadn’t had the heart attack, he’d probably still be one. And Bev was a good instructor—at least, he’d assumed she was.

“So . . .”

“Oh, just spit it out. Ask me all the questions you want, and I’ll answer them as long as it won’t get us kicked out of the diner, because I’m still friggin’ hungry,” Nolan groused, recognizing the glimmer of curiosity in his brother’s eyes.

“So this wasn’t just a one-time thing? I mean, you had lessons or something?”

Nolan massaged his eyelids with his thumb and middle finger. “We met for about six months, and yes, there were lessons of various sorts. Expectations on both sides, techniques, just . . .”

“It doesn’t sound very . . . sexy. I mean, at all.” Cal had a look of extreme distaste on his face, and well, Nolan didn’t blame him. It wasn’t sexy; it was practical. And Nolan was thinking that that was the real problem: he wouldn’t know what was really appealing or sexy if it came up and slapped his ass. Well, maybe if it slapped his ass, because he definitely found that appealing. Oh, fuck.

“It was a means to an end.”

“Yeah, the end of your virginity,” Cal retorted with a snort, causing Nolan to shush and glare at him. But then the man grew thoughtful. “You still need to ask that fighter woman out. She likes you. Tobias told me you two danced and had your hands all over each other last night. And you met her dad.”

“I suppose . . .”

“Do you still find her attractive? Do you still like her?”

“Yeah, I do. A lot, on both counts.”

“Then goddammit, man, quit being a chickenshit, and ask the woman out on a real date.”

“Tobias said the same thing last night,” Nolan muttered. “No fair conspiring before breakfast.”

Cal laughed. “Man, we just don’t want you to be as fucked up relationship-wise as we are. Ask her out. I mean, she’s gotta eat, right? Do some sort of fancy health-food dinner. Live a little, Nolan.  You might just like it.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.