Page 54 of The Hat Trick

“Why were they shirtless?”

“Because guys sleep shirtless.”

“Why did they come downstairs right after you?”

“We are on the same schedule.”

“Why did you all come from upstairs?”

“I have guest rooms up there.”

She stares me down, clearly not impressed with how I’m answering her questions.

“Brynn, why do you care so much?” Bryson finally speaks up.

“It’s not about caring, it’s about being nosy,” she retorts.

“You’ve always been good at that,” my brother mumbles, and Brynn throws a pillow at his head.

“I expect a ticket to your next game, and I want to go with Chandler,” she announces. Being the baby of the family has given her a sense on entitlement. And that might be my fault since I felt like she was the only one of us who might have a chance to not be completely fucked up, since she had three older siblings looking out for her.

Too bad, I was the only one who saw it that way and ended up being the main one to raise her. And she might have been too spoiled.

“And I expect you to mind your business when it comes to my relationships,” I say.

“Oh, so it’s a relationship?” She tucks her legs underneath her and leans forward.

“I’m done talking about my life. Bryson, share something about your life. Anything.”

He raises his hands. “No way, leave me out of this.”

Brynn smiles, “It’s okay, I’ll ask Chandler everything I need to know at the game we are going to together.”

20

Ididn’t expect Dumont to agree to let me be the one to take Chandler home, and I really didn’t expect her to be okay with it. Of course, before we left Collee’s house he made it a point to practically maul her face in front of me. I watched him fuck her last night so if he thinks that was going to bother me, he’s wrong.

We don’t talk much on the drive to her house, other than me working to convince her to give me her phone number. The argument that finally convinced her was, “You let me put my dick inside you, and come all over your tits, but giving me your number is where you draw the line?”

She called me an asshole, but still told me her number. Which, I called just to make sure it was real. She also tries to get out of the car as soon as I pull up to her house, but I stop her with my hand wrapped around her elbow. She looks back at me, and I pull her over the middle console to kiss her.

Her hands land on my thighs as she kisses me back, tongue sliding against mine while I grip her hair in my fist. I’m a little surprised she kisses me so eagerly, but I’m pulling back reluctantly because I could so easily get caught up in the distraction that is her mouth, or her pussy. I need to go, and unfortunately see my dad. Though, I would much rather follow Chandler inside and be lost in her until I need to leave for practice.

“Don’t be shy to call me over for a booty call, Bunny,” I tell her because I can’t help myself. She rolls her eyes and pushes away from me.

“Bye McQuaid.” She gets out of the car, and I watch her ass until she disappears inside before I leave.

After going back to my own house, showering and changing, I drive to my dad’s. His huge mansion sits at the top of a hill. I might be showy with the money I make, but I’m nothing like him. Everything with him is flashy. He has to make everyone think he has the best of the best. Best house. Best cars. Best son. Best life. Too bad it’s all a lie.

As I walk into the outrageous house; the white marble floor and pillars greet me. It’s so sterile, the opposite of anything homelike and it gives me the chills.

“Matthew?” a feminine voice calls, and then her blonde head comes around the corner. My dad’s latest wife. He usually doesn’t have any of them stick around for very long. Other than my mom, but after she died something changed with him. I think the maximum time he’s had a wife was about three years.

They also keep getting younger, while he gets older. This latest one is named…Brandy, I think. Maybe It’s Kandi…Shit, I don’t even know anymore. Whatever her name is, I’ve told her to call me Matt more than once, but for some reason she continues to call me Matthew. Only my dad calls me that. She’s also less than ten years older than me because there’s no way she’s a day older than thirty-five. I’m only twenty-seven, and I fully expect the next wife to be my age or younger since I’m sure Sandy here is about out of time in this marriage.

“Hey….” My voice trails off so she can tell me her name.

“Mandy,” she finishes for me. Her smile dims for a second before she fixes it.

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