Page 55 of The Jackpot Screwer
“No idea. Put your legs up on me,” I said, quickly changing the subject. “Let me rub your feet for you.”
Narrow eyes stared back at me, pure venom glinting out through the tiny slits of blue.
“I didn’t say my feet hurt,” she snapped. “Were you even listening to me?”
“I just thought it would help,” I offered.
“Oh yeah,” she scoffed, squeezing the even dirtier tissue into a ball and throwing it back at me. “Like you thought it was a good thing to stick that mammoth penis of yours into my vagina and leave a little gift behind.”
“You didn’t exactly pooh, pooh, the idea, Lollipop.”
Wrong thing to say because a cushion came flying toward me.
“Shit, that hurt.”
“As if,” she snarled. “It’s a damn cushion, Carter. How can a cushion hurt?”
“Well, if it’s thrown at point blank range straight at my face it can.” Rubbing at my forehead I groaned. “You know, Lollipop, you really have to stop throwing things at me. With the number of objects that you keep launching at me, I’ll have brain issues before the baby even gets here.”
“Well stop being an idiot and I might.”
She pouted like a little girl who’d had her toys taken away and I felt a little sorry for her. Everything was changing with her body and it must have been real weird; still didn’t justify her using me as target practice though.
“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “Let’s talk about the positive aspects of being pregnant.” I thought about what she’d said and the sudden realization that she was desperate for me, left me more than a little excited. My dick was most definitely waking up to that fact. “I mean you said you feel horny right? We can certainly do something about that.”
I pulled her into my arms, and just as my lips landed on hers, the door opened, followed by a loud groan.
“Really,” Austen cried. “That’s what got you into trouble in the first place.”
Bronte pulled away and shoved me in the chest. “We were wrestling is all.”
Austen shook his head. “I told you before, I know what sex is. Ask Carter.”
Her gaze shot to mine and wide eyes stared at me. “What does he mean? Ask Carter if he knows about sex.”
I threw Austen a look that thanked him for, one, busting in on us and, two, throwing me under the damn school bus he went on every day because yes, he was only fourteen and didn’t need to be thinking about s-e-x.
“He doesn’t mean anything. Do you, Austen?”
Catching my drift, he shook his head. “I guess not. I guess I’m just the kid brother who knows nothing about anything. The one who doesn’t know where babies come from. The one who has no damn idea what a hard on is.”
Dropping my head into my hands, I groaned. The kid had just thrown himself under the bus with me. We were about to be squashed together.
“Austen. How the hell do you know that… I told Mom not to worry about you, do I have to get Dad to give you the talk?”
“God no,” he yelled. “Please no. He’s probably better than Carter or Hunter, but I’d rather die a virgin than talk to Dad about it. You know what, I’m just gonna go back to my room and pretend this never happened and that I’m not hungry or want to know when Mom will be back to make dinner.”
He threw us a wave and was gone, leaving a distinct atmosphere in the room. One that said if I didn’t get out of there quick or change the subject, I was going to be blamed for teaching him about sex. Not that that particular conversation had gone too well.
“So,” I said cheerfully. “How about the Easter Fayre, you think you might run for Easter Queen this year, Lollipop?”
“Oh my God, I hate you,” she bawled. “Who wants an Easter Queen with cankles and gas?”
“Hey, Jefferson,” I sighed as he opened the door to his house at The Big D ranch. “How’re you doing?”
He smiled brightly and smoothed a hand over his hair, sweeping it back from his face. He was most definitely hot for an older guy, but despite what I’d led Ellie to believe a few months back, he was not my type. The hair was the wrong color for one; definitely not red enough.
“I’m good thanks, honey. I’m just off to the new piece of land to put some fencing up with Tom and Sam.” He placed his cowboy hat on his head and gave me a fatherly wink. “You here to see Ellie, ‘cause she’s over in the barn with Hunter. They’re picking floor covering,” he said with a smirk and a little shake of his head. “Well, arguing about wooden flooring versus tiles.”
