Page 3 of The Triple Threat

“If you’re talking about Hunter’s wild birthday parties then I really don’t want to know.”

I had no idea where my fear had come from, but cows scared me to the point that when Hunter had his birthday party every year, I always made sure I’d been scheduled on at work. Just the thought of being within a few feet of the beasts made my skin crawl and set my nerves on edge. So, while the rest of the town’s eighteen to thirty-year-old population were running riot on the Big D Ranch, I spent my time looking after sick kids.

My dad said it started when I saw a cow on the Delaney ranch when I was coming up for four years of age. Apparently, I screamed bloody murder until it was out of sight, and that was that. My mom and dad had never made a big thing of it though, probably thinking it was something I’d grow out of, but I hadn’t. I’d avoided Hunter’s birthday bash for years, because it was always in the summer and always outside – so always a chance I’d bump into a cow. They were parties which over the years had turned into wild, debauched nights where there was plenty of drink, dance, sex and skinny dipping in the huge pond at the back of his dad’s house. Mr. Delaney always took his elder sisters away for the night so that Hunter and his friends could have free rein over the property, so as long as they cleared up before he got home the next day, he was pretty cool about it.

I knew I’d missed some great nights because not only Bronte, but my brother too, loved to give me every detail. Bronte usually because she wanted me to know who’d been there, what the girls had worn and what shit the guys had shot, and Carter, well Carter couldn’t wait to tell me all about who he and Hunter had hooked up with, and on a couple of occasions, of the threesome they’d shared.

“Not just his parties,” Bronte replied. “His aunts are pretty wild too. And as for that hot piece of ass dad of his.”

I shook my head and gave my best friend a look that said I’d labelled her as sick. Jefferson Delaney was indeed a good-looking man, but the thought of Bronte riding him while wearing her favorite cowboy boots was not an image I relished. He was forty-eight and literally old enough to be her father; he was our parents’ best friend for God’s sake. Recently though, Bronte had insisted on telling me her fantasies whenever we bumped into him, ergo she wanted to ride him while wearing her favorite cowboy boots.

“You do know I caught him in a medical equipment closet at the hospital fucking Miss. Watkins from behind. I mean do you want to go where our most hated teacher from high school has been?”

Bronte thought about it for a few seconds and then shrugged as she took a swig of her beer. “Probably not, but it’s great material for when I’m feeling horny.”

She smiled and tapped her temple. I couldn’t help but laugh. She was crazy but I loved her like a sister – shit, I’d swap her for my brother as a sibling anytime, he was such a dick.

“Just one question.”

“Yeah,” I replied.

“How come Miss. Watkins was being fucked in a hospital store cupboard?”

“She was in having a tonsillectomy.”

“Ah okay,” Bronte said with a nod as she looked out over the busy bar. “That’ll explain why she wasn’t sucking his dick, because I’ve got to tell you, Ellie if it were me, I’d be all over that. I bet he’s built and real smooth.”

As she grabbed her crotch and thrust her hips, I almost spat my beer out.

“You’re disgusting,” I groaned and wiped the alcohol from my chin, unable to stop the smile from breaking free.

“Yeah, but you love me. Okay,” she sighed, “tell me how hot Hunter looks tonight and how does he smell? Woodsy and sexy?”

“None of the above.” I turned my back to her and took a sneaky look over at the pool table where Dusty and Jimmy were now firmly wrapped around the two girls.

“Whatever,” she scoffed. “Like I believe that you didn’t get a lady boner when you were over there messing with him.”

“I have no idea where you get this idea from that I think Hunter Delaney is hot. I don’t even like him.”

Bronte’s eyes went as wide as saucers as she let out a loud burst of laughter. “Oh, Ellie honey, you really are dumb if you think I believe that. Anyway, what did you say to him and your brother to make them look like you’d pissed in their porridge?”

I grinned and pushed my shoulders back with pride. “Told them the two girls at the pool table had been with Pauly Jansen and probably caught his STI.”

“No shit. Who told you that and who are they?”

I chewed on my bottom lip for a second as I studied my brother and his best friend. They had their backs to me, their heads close together as they laughed and joked, occasionally looking over at the pool table.

“Well?” Bronte urged.

“No one told me. I heard they’re tourists from Portland passing through.”

Bronte chinked her bottle with mine, winked at me and then laughed her cute little ass off.

“Oh, Hunter honey,” my aunt Janice-Ann called in that sweet voice of hers that I knew meant trouble. “We need you.”

With one foot on the bottom stair, I let my head drop back and looked up to the huge vaulted ceiling.

“What is it Auntie J?” I called, muttering a couple of fucks under my breath.