9. Bronco
9
brONCO
I’d never seen Amber in a dress since the night she hopped on my motorcycle and the material ripped. She’d be pretty in a paper bag, there’s no denying that, but my little bad ass looks like she just stepped out of a movie set for Anne of Green Gables . Okay, that’s probably a little dramatic, but the pastel green floral number that clings to her body and brings out the hazel in her eyes is making me see stars. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cut it. She has her hair out in long waves; I’m used to seeing her with a long ponytail most of the time, so this is something new. Then there’s Olive. She’s a cute kid with manners; not something you see very often these days. She also looks like Amber with the same colored hair and eyes, and a timid smile.
Before I approached, I couldn’t help but notice the slight bit of panic I saw in Amber’s face as she whispered something to Olive.
Why would she be afraid of me meeting her niece? Or is it being here with lots of other people?
I like kids. Well, most of them. I try my best to make them feel at ease, and I hope I did that with Olive because I know how hard it is when you move as a kid, and have to fit in all over again somewhere else. Been there, done that. Still, there’s something about them that doesn’t sit right with me. Call it gut instinct, I’m not sure, but Amber hasn’t told me the whole truth about her family or even her ex. She keeps that part of her life close to her chest. I never want to pry, believing that she will tell me something in her own time if she wants to, but this may be the one exception where I have to prod a little.
The party goes off without a hitch, and all the kids are running around while the moms with the babies sit in the shade, drinking iced tea and unwrapping presents. I’m not purposely spying on them, but all the guys bailed and Manny needed help with the food. Someone also had to make sure nothing ran out. I was the only man left standing, aside from Harlem who’s in charge of the entertainment, but I really didn’t mind. Anything to make sure that a good time is had by all.
I smell Amber’s floral perfume before I see her. I’m sitting on the edge of the garden, nursing a cold beer until Manny calls me for his next errand. I can count on one hand the times I’ve sat in such a peaceful setting with all the roses surrounding us. Even the kids chasing each other around screaming with water guns doesn’t annoy me.
“You’re still here?” Amber pokes me in the arm.
I turn to look at her as she sits down next to me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“No. I just meant, poor you. I heard Manny roped you in because all the guys bailed once Caprice’s cake was served and the games started, aside from Harlem, he’s lurking around here somewhere.”
I thumb behind me. “He’s makin’ sure all the entertainers are who they say they are. There has to be one responsible male here, after all.”
She nudges me with her shoulder. “There is Manny, too.”
“Very funny.”
“I got a little reading time in before I came here,” she says, making me grin.
“Uh huh, and did I do a good job?”
“Yes, so far so good. The current book I’m reading by Helena Hunting is fantastic. How did you know I like hockey romance?”
I give her a withering look. “Please.” I tap the tips of my ears with my pointer fingers. “These aren’t painted on. I pay attention.”
She giggles. “It’s just, men don’t usually listen.”
“I was brought up with a strong working mom, remember? The one thing she taught my brother and me was respect, and that listening is an art form.”
“I think I like your mom a whole lot.”
“She’s a fiery little thing. We have Greek heritage and she blames that for her temper. My mom came here when she was about Olive’s age as an immigrant, then she met my dad pretty young.”
“Wow, have you ever been to Greece?”
“Nope, but someday I’d like to, it looks pretty cool.”
“I haven’t traveled much, either,” she sighs. “Someday.”
“Where would you like to go?” I prompt. “If you could pick anywhere? And don’t say fuckin’ Delaware or some shit. I mean, like if you had one wish and all of that.”
“Paris,” she says without hesitation. “It’s always been a dream of mine to see the Eiffel Tower and live like a Parisian for a week or two.”
“That would be pretty amazin’.” I imagine what it would be like. Cobblestone streets. Local markets. French people wearing berets. Okay, they probably don’t even wear those, but it would be an amazing destination, there’s no denying it.
“It isn’t just the food and the wine, it’s the culture. The French seem to enjoy every single morsel of their lives. I watched this show where this couple moved from England and renovated a French castle…”
I turn to look down at her. “Don’t tell me.”
“Dick and Angel,” we say together.
I put a hand over my mouth. “Okay, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I really like that show,” I lower my voice. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”
She’s laughing uncontrollably. “It’s a little absurd how much we have in common when you think about it.”
“I know, right? Renovatin’ shows. Dark chocolate. Smutty books…”
“You do not read smutty books!” she whisper-shouts.
“I do so.” I put a hand over my heart. “I’m shocked, by the way, at the amount of sex in some of those books, especially the cartoon couple ones. Romance authors are hardcore.”
“Ha! And you said vanilla guys are the best kind.”
“You didn’t text me the name of the book you’re currently reading so we could buddy read,” I remind her.
“Bronc, you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I mean, only if you want me to? I don’t want it to be weird. Maybe one of the girls would be a better fit?”
She lays a hand on my arm and gives it a squeeze. “I know you’re just being nice because you think I have no friends.”
I frown. “You do have friends, but I know book nerds can be a little… uh, private about what they like to read.”
“Now I’m a book nerd?”
“I’ve seen your collection, it’s big. I also know what you girls are reading behind those pretty covers.” I wink.
She flushes a little on the pretty covers comment. “And yet you sent me more books.”
I hold up a finger. “I was proving a point.”
“You’re actually right,” she sighs. “Tristan, the guy in the current book I’m reading, doesn’t use cheap theatrics.”
“Told ya.”
“He uses a cucumber.”
I almost choke on my mouthful of beer and manage to spit some out; it dribbles down my chin and I sputter. “Jesus, AJ!” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, then lower my voice. “A cucumber?”
She nods, biting her lip, her eyes dancing with amusement. “So I get your point. You don’t have to be chained to a bed, pinned to a St. Andrews Cross, or bent over a sex chaise to get your thrills.”
My heart rate kicks up a notch. What in the ever-living fuck? “Okay, now I’m really gonna dive deep into that bookshelf of yours. A sex chaise?”
“It’s a thing.”
“I’ll google it later. Now, back to the cucumber. Does he really fuck her with it?”
She laughs. “Well, you’ll have to read it for yourself, won’t you?”
“So, you want me to buddy read?”
“Well, it’s kinda cute that you offered, but I’m totally gonna let you off the hook if you want an out. I’m pretty sure Luna and Jas have both read Fifty Shades and other romance books similar to that, so we could maybe…” She trails off when I pout. “What?”
“I wanted to be your reading buddy.” I try not to burst out laughing because frankly, I don’t really wanna read about hockey players called Tristan, or cucumbers being used as sex toys for that matter. But if it takes her mind off things and causes her less anxiety, then I will. That’s why I’m here and will always be here for her.
She rubs my back soothingly. “Aww. I’m sorry, you still can be. But we have to give our book club a name, those are the rules.”
“Your rules?”
“Exactly.”
I grin, happy again. “Bossy. Okay, how about Sex Books R Us?”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Romance books, Bronc, not sex books.”
“Ah.” I hold up a finger. “My bad. Just to clarify, all the books have to have a happily ever after, right? Or they’re not romance books.”
“Someone has been doing their homework,” she teases.
I groan, remembering how I know that. “You click on one fuckin’ author or reader account on TikTok, and all of a sudden you’re gettin’ romance book shit thrown in your face and all over your feed.”
“That’s BookTok,” she announces. “Wow, you really have crossed over to the dark side, haven’t you?”
“Unwillingly, but strangely, I’m okay with it.”
“Can we think of another name, please?”
“I’m sure you’ve got some bright ideas?” I prod. “You know I’m only gonna come up with somethin’ else dirty like Smutty Readers Unite.”
“Please tell me you have a better name than that.”
“How about Kiss And Tell, Swooners After Dark or R-Rated Readers?—”
She whacks my arm. “Will you stop it?”
I chuckle. “Boink My Hole, Bang My Buick, Ass Tales?”
“Oh, my God, you’re insufferable,” she groans.
I clear my throat. “Okay, I’ll be serious, but you need to pick the name.”
“How about The Happy Hangout?”
I rub my chin. “You’re so vanilla, Princess.”
“Well, it’s unsuspecting, and PG when Olive is around.”
“Fine.” I clap my hands together. “So now we have a book club. What’s the name of the book we’re reading?”
She reels it off, then offers to find it on the kindle app on my phone, giving her pause to check out some of the books I have on there. They’re all sci fi or murder mysteries, of course. Typical guy books.
When she finds the book in question with the cartoon cover, I narrow my eyes. “Oh, it’s a series? I didn’t realize.”
“Yes, and you got me books one and two, well played there.”
“I aim to please.” I grin. I like that we have this new thing together. Sure, it’ll be tough explaining it to the guys, but they can mind their own fuckin’ business. Just to see her face light up when she’s talking about her books is enough for me.
“There, it’s on your kindle, so you’ve no excuses now.”
“I’ll text you updates,” I laugh.
She laughs, too. “Can’t wait. I better get back and check on Olive and the kids.”
“By all means,” I say. “I’ll just be here reading my smutty ass book.”
She laughs when I wiggle my eyebrows, and now I’m more than a little intrigued by this whole cucumber thing. Here I was thinking I’d picked smutty books without too much dark shit in there, and here she is telling me about sex chairs and fuckin’ crosses. I don’t want to think about Amber pinned to any kind of cross, but if she were, it’d be one of my choosing.
If she didn’t want me in her book club, she’d say, right? Truth is, I want to hear about what she thinks of the books she reads. It makes her happy, and I can appreciate that. I love reading, too — maybe not smutty romance books with werewolf shifters, dragon riders or hockey gods who know how to use their tongue better than their hockey sticks, but reading has always been an escape. I like being able to shut off when I go to bed and just relax. Not even the television does that for me. It’s special, and I want to share that with my best friend. Because that’s all you are, asshole. Yes, I need to keep reminding myself of that fact. Just friends. Friends with their own book club…
I help Manny and Harlem clean up, sending Amber away to have fun with the girls. It’s just like her to go into work mode, but I for one know she never has any fun. She should enjoy herself, she deserves it. The women have all worked hard at setting up, so helping them pack down is the least we can do. Even Tag, Hawk, Cash, Hustler and Riot come and help later.
The kids all had a great time, and that’s what counts. I saw Olive and the others playing together, and I smiled to myself knowing it would make Amber happy to see her niece having a little fun herself.
I still don’t really know what the full deal is, but I’m gonna make it my mission to find out. One day her niece just shows up and Erica is nowhere to be seen since. As Amber’s best friend and new reading buddy, it’s my duty to make sure she’s safe, and that extends to Olive, too.
When I get home, Titan is hungry, nudging me with his head like I don’t know what fuckin’ time it is. “I know, bud,” I sigh. Aside from a couple of leftover sandwiches the kids didn’t eat, I haven’t had a bite for hours. I’ll get something out of the freezer and shove it in the microwave. I’m resourceful like that. I stroke his head, bending down to kiss him because that’s what we do. Okay, he can be on guard dog mode when he wants to be, but when it’s just us, I’m softer with him. His natural instincts kick in whenever he hears noises outside, and his bark alone would be enough to ward off any impending intruder, but he loves his cuddles. “Daddy left you alone a little too long. Maybe we should get you a girlfriend?”
He grunts as I reach up to the shelf to pour him a load of dry food into his bowl. This dog can eat — well, that’s an understatement. He’s a big boy, and he needs a lot of nourishment to keep him energized. I jog with him every morning, both working off our late night binges, and tonight is no exception as I pull out a frozen pizza and turn on the oven.
I’m tired, but I still have to eat and take a shower. When I decide on the latter first, I turn on the TV in my bedroom for Titan; it’s the first place he’ll crash when he finishes eating.
I strip as I walk toward the shower. Turning on the water, I step inside, grateful for the hot steam around me as the water pounds my sore muscles. I invested in a decent shower. Ever since my old football days, I’ve had back and shoulder injuries that creep up and haunt me every now and again. My body likes to remind me of the toll the game took on it. Usually when I overdo it at the gym or lift something too heavy.
I wash my hair, lathering my body with soap as I rinse, thinking about how today went. My mind flicks to Amber in her pretty green dress. There was nothing revealing about it, not like the dress she had on the night I brought her home. I hope she fuckin’ burned it like I asked. This one, however, was different. Sweet. The material hugged her body, and the slight curve to her hips and plumpness to her rack was hot. No. You’ve started a book club, fucker! You don’t get to think like that.
Still, my hand reaches to my dick and I purposefully do not think about her. There are plenty of women I can jerk off to. I said to myself — the last time I tamed the wild beast thinking about Amber — it was a one off, and I don’t want to be weird with it. I’m not into her like that.
Or maybe I wasn’t until recently. Still, this is just a dry spell. That’s all it is. Amber’s the closest woman to me in my life right now, and she’s cute, sweet and sexy. It’s my aching dick that’s the problem. I’ve gone without sex for so long, the lines are getting blurred. I need to get laid, that’s what it is. But every time I think about doing that very thing, I make some excuse for why I shouldn’t. Not that I can’t, but shouldn’t.
I’m not holding out for Amber, I swear to God that’s not it. I’ve had other women since we became friends, we’ve joked about shitty dates and one-night hook ups that weren’t so hot, and back then, I could joke around with her. Now if she started telling me about a hook-up, or a date, I’d probably implode. Why is that? Should I explore it, or just ignore it?
As I contemplate, my dick grows harder in my palm and I brace my other hand against the shower screen. Hand jobs just aren’t gonna cut it for much longer, but it’s gonna have to do for a little while yet. I need to get this over with so I can go and catch up on the book Amber probably has her head buried in right this very minute. When I think about where I’d like my head buried… I jerk in my hand. Fuuuuck. I’m an embarrassment to myself. Instead of doing what all other normal people my age are doing — which is likely drinking, or partying, or getting heavy with a chick — I want to get this jerk-off-shower-session over with fast so I can go and read a romance book? What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
Maybe this is what being pussy whipped feels like. Maybe Tag was right? Wait. I’m gonna take that back because nobody in their right minds would say Tag was right about anything.
I need to grow some balls and stop this weak shit… but every time I think about doing that very thing, my conscience gets the better of me. Somewhere deep down inside, I know Amber needs me. She needs a friend. She’s going through something she can’t talk about, or won’t talk about, and I need to be here for her when she is ready to talk about it.
Once again, I find myself imagining it’s Amber in here with me. Her hands on me, caressing my body, my face. Our lips brushing, our bodies pressed together as I whisper all the dirty shit I want to do to her. It is a fantasy, after all. I grip my cock, my breathing ragged as I jerk myself to orgasm in record time. Seriously, under sixty seconds.
I’m fucked.
That’s all I know.
There isn’t any other excuse for me. I’m buying her books. Taking her out tomorrow night. Clapping secretly because this Ben fuckface has the flu, and now she won’t get to see him. I’m a selfish bastard, that’s what it is. I can’t have her, so nobody else can? What are we, in grade school? I’m not proud of myself, but as I wash myself and my sins clean under the water, I can’t regret any of my decisions. I just have to find a way to get through this.
Not hanging out with her isn’t an option. I’ve vowed to keep her safe ever since that night when those two goons stalked and terrified the life out of her. She was so scared, and I never want to see that look on my best friend’s face ever again.
The boys can shut the fuck up; they’re all wrong. Especially Nevada suggesting we could be fuck buddies. Keeping my hands to myself has been second nature these past few years, and I’m not about to lose her because I can’t control my dick now.
Not gonna happen.
I’ll prove it, if it’s the last thing I do.