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That sounded just like their father.

Tate’s Tavern wasn’t crammed with people when Alli and her brother and sister-in-law arrived for dinner, but it certainly wasn’t empty either. At least eighty percent of the tables were occupied, and the barstools were filled. Even the pool table and darts area had people in it.

“Tate Winslow owns this place,” Tara explained as they slid into a booth near the front window. “It’s probably one of the most popular places in town to get good food at a decent price.”

“It smells good,” Alli remarked, taking in the aroma of delicious food.

She hadn’t eaten much today, and her stomach was screaming loudly that it needed to be fed.

“Get the cheeseburger,” her brother said. “I know you don’t eat a lot of meat, but you have to trust me on this.”

“I didn’t eat a lot of meat because you-know-who was a vegetarian.”

She hadn’t realized until after they’d broken up that she’d changed a whole hell of a lot about herself to keep the peace. Her ex would whine when everyone didn’t do things his way, and when people didn’t do and say exactly what he wanted. She now knew that it was a sign of insecurity to need all of his decisions validated like that, but during the relationship she’d bent over backward to be accommodating.

Too accommodating. She’d walked away and hadn’t looked back. He now had another woman that he whined to on a regular basis. Heaven help her.

“What can I get you folks?” the server asked. “Or do you need more time with the menus?”

“Cheeseburger, medium, side of fries, and an iced tea,” she said, placing the menu back in its slot on the table with the condiments and salt and pepper.

Brian grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

“Make it two, then, but onion rings for me?”

“Same,” Tara said. “But I’ll just have water.”

The server disappeared back into the kitchen, although she paused at the bar to speak to the handsome man standing next to it, talking to the bartender before heading back to a table in the corner.

“That’s Tate,” Tara whispered. “And yes, all the siblings won the gene pool lottery.”

Brian was already scanning the crowd with a practiced eye.

“There they are,” he said, nodding toward the far corner.

Allison followed his gaze to a booth half-hidden by a column. Five people, three men and two women, sat around a table crowded with beer glasses and empty appetizer baskets.

“That’s him,” Tara said, elbowing Alli. “That’s Sam Winslow. He’s the one you’d be working for if you get the job. Sort of working for him, anyway.”

Her gaze followed her sister-in-law’s to the man with broad shoulders, dark blond hair, and a face handsome enough for Hollywood. He wore a charcoal shirt with the sleeves rolled and leaned forward on his elbows, listening as one of the women talked, his eyes fixed and unwavering. There was a quiet intensity to him, even seated, that cut through the noise of the room.

“That’s all of them,” Brian said, sotto voce. “Winslows don’t half-ass family dinners, I guess.”

“He seems like a normal person. Not scary at all,” Alli observed.

Brian laughed at her comment.

“He’s not his father.”

“Is that Frankie Winslow, the tennis player?” Allison asked, more curious than she meant to sound.

“That’s his twin, Frankie. She’s kind of a legend around here. I heard she broke three high school records in one year, then went off to the pros and kicked ass there, too. The one with the long hair is Piper, the youngest. And the other guys are the brothers Zack, Cooper, and of course, Tate, at the bar.”

Sam nodded at something Piper said, his attention completely on his sister. There was a steadiness to him, like he was absorbing every word and cataloging it for later. She tried to imagine him at the head of a conference table or barking orders at subordinates, but he looked more like a guy who’d teach high school English, or maybe coach Little League.

“He’s not Joel,” Brian said. “In fact, I’ve never heard a bad word about Sam.”

“Only Joel is Joel. They broke the mold when they made him,” Tara declared. “Thank goodness.”