Page 58 of The Jackpot Screwer
As I stared, open-mouthed at both the aunts, the door clattered open and Ellie and Hunter rushed in. They were both breathless, Hunter’s hair was a mess, and Ellie’s t-shirt was most definitely inside out.
“You finally manage to decide on a flooring you like?” Aunt L asked.
“Oh, hey, Bronte.” Ellie gave me a wave. “Ah, yep. Hunt decided I was right in the end.”
“You see,” Aunt L said pointing at them. “Sex gets you everything you want. Now, who’d like some tea?”
Pig shit stinks—fact!
Lance Dickinson was the worst man on the planet—fact!
He knew how I hated going out to Jim Wickerson’s pig farm, yet somehow, he always worked it that I was the only one available.
I was already pissed at him because while he’d finally made a decision about the partnership—almost a month after I’d met with him about it, he was taking his goddamn sweet time in getting the paperwork drawn up. Add to the fact he’d suddenly had a house call to make which meant I was sticking Jim’s damn feeder piglets with a vaccination, while up to my ankles in shit. Pigs were dirty and shit and pissed wherever they cared to.
“Get you a cold one, Carter?” Jim asked.
“That’d be good, Jim, thanks.” I turned back to the piglet wriggling around in my arms and pushed the skin forward on his neck, just below his ear. When I jabbed in the needle it squealed blue murder. “There you go.” I set it back on his feet and looked in the pen to find that had been the last one.
“All done?” Jim came beside me and peered in. “You were real quick today.”
“Yeah, I guess I was.” I glanced at an old clock up on the barn wall and realized he was right. I’d only taken thirty-five minutes to vaccinate fifteen piglets, some of which had been real wrigglers. “Got to be a record, I reckon.”
“Reckon so. Now, I’ll get you that drink because I’d be grateful if you’d also take a look at that five-month-old that was tail biting.”
“It any better?” I asked, putting everything back into my bag and disposing of the needles in the Sharpsafe.
“Some.” Jim shrugged and made his way out of the pig enclosure. “He’s stopped biting, but it doesn’t appear to be healin’ much.”
“Okay, I’ll take a look. He in the isolation pen still, in the other barn?”
Jim nodded and made his way to the house, leaving me to go back to my truck and get some things I thought I might need. When I was closing the back tailgate, I noticed a little pink car winding its way up the track towards the farm.
“Bronte?” I murmured to myself as I watched her hit a rut and then swerve to avoid Jim’s big, fat, Tom cat, Weasel.
Even from where I was standing, a least a couple of hundred feet away, I could see she was cursing about the state of the road surface. Jim didn’t have a big farm, with a herd of hogs and sows large enough to service the butcher shops of the towns in our county and a couple of restaurants in Middleton Ridge. That meant that the track leading up to the farm was the least of his worries and he spent little or no money on it. This also meant that Bronte’s car could possibly need a repair job, especially if she kept driving down it at the speed she was.
Grimacing as she almost did a wheel spin when she stopped next to my truck, I rubbed a hand over my head as apprehension hit me. Why the hell had she come all the way out to Jim’s to see me. I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong since our last meeting, but her moods were so up and down, it was difficult to know.
“Lollipop?” I took a step forward as she slammed her car door.
“Does Jim know how dangerous that damn track is?” she asked, her arm going behind her to point in the direction she’d just come. “I hit my head on the roof of my car, twice.”
I tried not to smirk. Her hair was piled high, so I doubted she’d felt a thing.
“You’re okay though?” I asked.
“Yes,” she snapped and looked down at the ground, her sneakers stark white against the brown stinking mess. “I wanted to see you.”
“I guessed so,” I replied wondering whether I should offer her my spare Wellington boots. “But why?”
Wide eyes stared back at me. “Well, why wouldn’t I?”
“It’s just you never come visit me at work usually. So, why today?”
I ran a hand through my hair and as I did, I heard the gasp and inhale. There was no disguising it, she was damn well turned on. All I’d done was straighten the mess on top of my own head. Feeling on top of my game I stretched my back muscles, knowing my Dayton Veterinary Clinic polo shirt would ride up enough to show a glimpse of skin. Skin and the happy trail that Bronte loved to follow. My eyes went to her rack, covered in a thin, white tank, under which I could clearly make out a plain bra with lace edging it. As I homed in on her titties, her nipples hardened pretty much instantly.
Oh yeah, she was turned on to the point of exploding.
