Page 10 of The Triple Threat

“And?”

“And,” she said, tugging her hand from mine. “That means she’ll be irresponsible, indiscreet and downright idiotic. You have no idea what she’ll come up with. The damn internet dating is only the start of it.”

I watched Ellie as real fear sparked in her eyes. I felt kinda bad for telling her about Bronte and the laundry hamper. It was obvious how much she cared for Bronte and how much she evidently had to take care of her and stop her from doing anything stupid—which if I knew Bronte, was pretty often.

“You want me to get Pop to talk to her?” I asked.

Ellie glared at me. “God, no. That would only make it a challenge for her. No, we have to think of something else.”

She started to pace again, and my head moved from left to right as I watched her until she eventually came to a stop.

“I know what we have to do,” she announced and planted herself in front of me, her hands on her hips.

“We?” I asked, my brows almost disappearing into my hairline.

“Yes, we,” she answered with more than a hint of exasperation. “You have to help me get her to fall in love with someone else. Otherwise, if you don’t the worst thing possible could happen; Bronte could end up as your step-mom.”

The idea was ridiculous, but Ellie sure did sound worried. I muttered a curse and looked up to the ceiling. This was not what I wanted to be doing on a Friday night. I should have gone home when I had the chance.

“I’m not sure—”

Ellie didn’t even let me finish. “No, Hunter, you have to help me. You have no idea what a handful she can be. I can’t do this on my own.”

“Ellie, don’t you think you’re maybe overreacting?”

She shook her head. “Nope. She’s been my best friend since pre-K. I know exactly what she’s capable of.”

I groaned and nodded. “Okay, so who do you recommend we get her to fall in love with. The way I see it, most men in this town would love a shot with Bronte, and if I’m reading her right, Bronte would not want a shot with any man who would want a shot with her. So, who do you propose?”

Ellie beamed. “It’s obvious.”

“To you maybe, but not me,” I replied with a shrug.

“Who do you know who can’t stand to be around her, who she irritates more than a fly would.”

I frowned and tried to think who Ellie could mean. There was no one, except…

“Shit no,” I almost shouted. “Not happening. He’d be more likely to kill her, and I do not want that blood on my conscience. Nope, sorry, Ellie but I ain’t helping.”

“Please.” She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest, which meant my eyes were dragged toward it and the dark brown stain above her left tit, which then meant my eyes zeroed in on the actual tit, and my dick woke up.

“Hunter,” she snapped, poking a finger in front of my eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you? Look at my face, not the girls, and concentrate. Will you or will you not help me to save our parents’ friendships by getting Bronte to fall in love with Carter and vice versa?”

Before I had time to say, ‘hell no’ Bronte appeared from her room and filled the hallway with laughter.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “That guy was the weirdest. I really need to keep messaging him, if only for the laughs.”

“Bronte,” I groaned and rubbed a hand down my face. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m getting a coke and some Cheerios to keep me going while I converse with Mr. Flirty as he calls himself.”

“He doesn’t mean that,” Ellie snapped. “He means what are you doing by internet dating in the first place, and what are you doing by messaging those douchebags?”

“Ah chill,” she said and flapped a hand at us. “It’s fun. I have nothing or no one else to amuse me.”

I saw the way she smirked at Ellie. When the sound of my pop’s laugh unexpectedly rang from the den, I also saw how Bronte’s eyes went wider and she pushed her tits out. Fuck, she really did have it bad for my old man.

“Okay.” I breathed out. “I’m in.”