Page 2 of The Triple Threat
“What risk?” I asked and frowned as Dusty began to talk to my brunette.
“Ellie, just go.” Carter groaned and began moving away from us, his gaze on the prize. “Hunt we need to step in there quick.”
Ellie reached behind her, her eyes still on me, and snagged her brother’s arm and with some strength yanked him back in front of her.
“Listen,” she said and leaned in close. “I know for certain you boys don’t want to mess around with those girls.”
Carter tried to free himself from Ellie’s grip, but she held on tight. “Just cut the bullshit and leave us alone. Just because you kicked Dominic to the curb doesn’t mean you can cockblock us.”
Carter normally had a lot of patience, after all he needed it as a veterinarian faced with all manner of hysterical pet owners, but he rarely had any where his little sister was concerned, particularly if she was on a mission to stop him from hooking up with a hot girl. It had to be said, Ellie’s favorite pastime was to try and stop us from getting our rocks off, and it had been from the first time she realized that we were no longer virgins who jerked off over pictures of the school cheer squad.
“Me cockblocking you has nothing to do with me ending things with that douchebag,” Ellie whispered leaning in close. “Me cockblocking you has everything to do with the fact that Audrey Wilson has an itchy pussy.”
“I didn’t know she had a cat.” Carter frowned. “She’s never brought one to the surgery.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Not that sort of pussy, you idiot.” She pointed in the area of her crotch. “That one.”
I leaned back in surprise “Woah, are you supposed to tell us that? Don’t you have to follow some sort of oath that you don’t tell anyone about your patient’s ailments?”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “I’m a nurse on the kid’s ward, Hunter, not the Sexual Health Clinic. In any case, Missy told me, and Amber told her.”
“Okay.” Carter sighed. “How the fuck does Audrey Wilson having an STI affect us and the two girls playing pool, who incidentally are currently being hit on by Dusty and Jimmy?”
Ellie shook her head and tapped Carter’s cheek. “Because, my dear brother, she got that STI from Pauly Jansen.”
“And?” I was frustrated, particularly as Dusty was leaned over the top of the brunette while she took a shot. This meant I was about ready to push Ellie on her ass so I could get past.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Pauly Jansen is known for his threesomes is he not?” she asked, turning back to us.
“Yeah, and I repeat, and?”
Carter groaned and ran a hand through his dark auburn hair. “Pauly Jansen has been there before us, hasn’t he?”
“Finally.” Ellie slapped her thigh and grinned at us. “Okay boys, my work here is done.”
She winked at me, leaned closer and pushed her tits against my chest. I had to admit they felt pretty good, soft and comfy, a bit like a feather pillow.
“Oh, and Hunter, next time you want to look at my girls, don’t make it so obvious and keep the drool from your chin.”
Then she was gone with a swing to her hips as she drew the eye of every red-blooded male in the bar – except mine, of course, because Ellie Maples was one great big pain in the ass.
“You want him so bad.” Bronte giggled as I made my way back to her side and a welcoming bottle of beer.
I waved her away and grabbed my drink from the battered bar top. If you looked carefully at it, it still bore the indentation of my ex-boyfriend’s head. I knew Penny had sanded it down and re-varnished since that night, but I think she’d only done that particular section half-heartedly, wanting to leave it as a warning for all other men.
“You might as well admit it, honey.” Bronte purred and adjusted her boobs as Jason Miller the deputy sheriff walked past with her a lingering glance. “You want Hunter Delaney and that tight, tattooed bod of his. You want him to throw you over his shoulder, take you to his barn, and then fuck you until you scream so loud you wake up the cows.”
As I shuddered, Bronte giggled and slapped my arm. The little bitch knew how much I hated cows. In actual fact, she knew how much they scared the living daylights out of me and she never tired of yanking my chain about it. As much as I had an irrational fear of bovines, I had a whole lot of love for my best friend, despite her not so funny jokes.
With her pretty face and waist-length blonde hair, Bronte Jackson looked sweet as sugar pie, but she was all sorts of crazy. In senior year she’d persuaded me to empty trash over Belinda Jennings car because Belinda had called me fat ass. When we were sixteen, Bronte had also been the one to convince me that we could easily jump a train to Dallas without any money. We managed it but only because when the conductor caught us, she had screamed that he’d touched her inappropriately. She was also the one who, when we were thirteen, had sneaked us into Stars & Stripes as the women of Dayton Valley enjoyed a ladies’ night; that being a troupe of male strippers who weren’t ashamed to slap their schlongs around. Nope, Bronte held little similarity to the sweet English lady her mom had named her after; but she was my best friend and I loved her.
“Don’t,” I snapped, shuddering at the thought of cows. “Ugh.”
“I have no idea what your problem is with them,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “They’re real cute with those long lashes and big pink tongues.”
That almost made me retch.
“You’ve missed some fun times down on the ranch because of those animals,” she added as she gave me a wistful smile.