Page 53 of The Jackpot Screwer
“Hey, douchebag,” Hunter growled and poked me in the ribs. “Kid on board.”
“I’m fifteen,” Austen replied. “I know cuss words.”
“You’re fourteen,” Hunter and I chimed in unison. “And no,” I added turning to Hunter. “I did not talk to him about sex. He asked, but I didn’t say anything.”
Austen kicked at the ground and pouted. “He was pretty lame actually.”
Hunter chuckled and put an arm around Austen. “You really should have come to me, dude. Carter isn’t the guy to talk about,” he lowered his voice, glancing around the yard, “s-e-x with. I’m much more of an expert.”
Austen raised a brow. “Well, he got my sister pregnant and he’s a vet, so it figures that he’d know. I mean no disrespect, Hunter, but you still live with your pop.”
I couldn’t help the loud burst of laughter that busted right from the bottom of my gut. The great Hunter Delaney had been burned by a fourteen-year-old kid.
“You know what,” Austen sighed. “I’m just gonna YouTube it, or maybe call Shaw at Harvard.” He started to leave and then looked over his shoulder. “I should’ve known better than to ask either of you two. You both suck balls.”
As Austen joined everyone else, I looked to Hunter.
“What the fuck?” He pointed to Austen. “He thinks YouTube is more informative about sex than us, the two hottest, most successful with women guys in Dayton Valley.
He was walking away, shaking his head in disbelief, when Bronte appeared next to me clutching an empty glass.
“Hey, Lollipop, you want more lemonade.”
She gave me a small smile. “Yes, but I can get it.”
“No, it’s fine. You go and sit, and I’ll do it.”
As she passed me her glass my phone started to ring. “Hang on one sec.” I looked down at the screen to see it was Nancy Andrews. It had been the apartment block maintenance meeting with the building’s owner and superintendent that afternoon. I’d asked Nancy to raise the idea of putting a gate on the shared garden and adding a shaded area. I wanted to be able to take Mani out there and not have to worry about him running off. As for the shaded area, that was for when the baby came so they didn’t get too much sun.
“Can I call you back?” I said as I answered the phone and looked up at Lollipop. I was anxious that I would be the one to get her lemonade for her. I wanted to do everything for her. “Or you could come around later?”
Nancy said it was no problem and she would push a copy of the meeting’s minutes under my door and she then rang off.
As I put my phone back into my pocket, I opened my mouth to speak to Bronte, but she was already walking into the house.
“Hey, Lollipop, I said I’d get it.”
She stopped and looked over her shoulder, her smile had gone, sadness in her eyes took me by surprise. “It’s fine.” She shrugged. “You’re busy and I have to get used to doing things for myself.”
Before I had time to respond, she turned and walked away and I suddenly felt as though we’d taken ten steps back, all over one glass of lemonade.
Things with Bronte most definitely had taken a step backward, since my birthday. We’d conversed only by text and she’d had her mom pick Mani up and bring him to her house for the day instead of visiting my apartment.
Well, enough was enough. She couldn’t avoid me any longer. I pulled up to her house, with Mani and the list of things I’d bought for the baby. I hadn’t waited to check she was good with it; I’d just gone ahead bought the stuff and fuck the consequences. I was past giving her time; I was ready to take back what was mine.
“Carter,” Bronte gasped as she opened the door. “What’re you doing here?”
I raised a brow. “You’re having my baby and contrary to what you think, I care. Plus, Mani wanted to see you.”
I held up the cute black and gold fluff ball with my hand under his butt.
“Hey, sweet baby,” she crooned and tickled him under his chin.
I felt slightly uncomfortable in the pants department as an image of her doing the same thing to my balls, flashed through my head. Ball and dick work were my girl’s specialty for sure. I often wondered how she’d gained her skills, I mean it wasn’t the kind of thing they taught at Girl Guides, was it?
The door opening wider brought me back to reality.
“You best come in.”
