Hot Tea by Sheila Horgan Read Free Book Online Page B

but trust me, it was.  He was also wearing loafers of some type, but I had real problems getting my eyes to travel that far down from his, um, we’ll say it was his eyes that got my attention. 
It isn’t a sin looking at him that way.  They aren’t married yet.  They haven’t even been on their first date. 
As for me, I schlepped in in a pair of capris, a cami, and a blouse with hibiscus flowers all over it.  I also wore flip-flops. 
I’m trying to teach myself how to wear them.  I hate anything between my toes. 
Have you tried to find an attractive pair of summer shoes that don’t have something between your toes?  It’s well nigh impossible these days. 
I hate flip-flops.
I hate standing next to my sister.
I hate knowing that every guy in the room is comparing us, and that I’m coming up short.  Actually tall.
I hate my life.
Ok, I don’t hate my life, my life is actually pretty good, I’m just in a mood and I haven’t been able to snap myself out of it.  I’m working on it.
     
One of the things I love most about my sister is that she isn’t afraid to be herself in front of a man.  Ok, so maybe she chooses to present a glammed up version of herself, at first, but herself just the same. 
Take a look at her and you would determine instantaneously, based on every fact and stereotype ever hurled at you in the name of female tutelage, that Teagan is one of those women that never fall off the diet wagon.  It’s dry rice cakes and tofu for this woman.
You would be partly right.  The reason Teagan has never fallen off the diet wagon is that she has never been on it.
I’ve heard her appetite described as robust.  My mom used to say that she was a human vacuum; she would suck down anything available.  Since that charming phrase might have other connotations now that she is an adult, we will just say that the woman has an appetite on par with a teenaged boy.
She ordered something called the Bricking Brewster.  I guess they have a family member living in Brewster, Texas.  That much was documented on the back of the menu.  What wasn’t documented was why they made such a big deal about this particular relative.  They didn’t say he was a celebrity or anything.  I’d never heard of him.  The only thing that I could surmise from the information at hand was that he has a fondness for large dinner plates filled to capacity. 
 
Teagan’s order, The Bricking Brewster, is a huge slab of beef, with butter and seasonings on top, with about a pound of mashed potatoes and some veggies.
The look on AJ’s face was priceless.  He couldn’t have choked down that amount of food in a week, but for my sister, it’s not even a challenge.  She won’t even share.  Nor will she gain an ounce; nor will she apologize for having a great appetite. 
I asked her once what will happen if her metabolism slows down, and a dinner plate that full starts to show itself on her hips, or thighs, or whatever.  She laughed!  She said as long as she’s healthy, she didn’t care.  People with perfect bodies can think that way.  It’s so aggravating.
AJ ordered a much smaller steak and a baked potato, dry.
Yuck!
I had my usual chicken tenders and fries. 
We did the chit chat thing until the food came.  It was somewhat entertaining to watch the two of them size each other up.
By the time our server showed up with our meals, we had ascertained that Teagan is smart and has a great sense of humor. 
We also knew that AJ is single, not really looking, but not really not looking, and established in his career.  I thought about it, and being established is a good thing; it means he has time to woo my sister.
My sister was elbow deep in dinner when AJ mentioned that he has a talent or two that I can use.  My ding-a-ling brat sister didn’t even say anything; she just kept filling her face.  What good is she to me?  It isn’t like I could use my feminine wiles on the man since it’s pretty obvious to me he is into my