10. Adam
CHAPTER 10
ADAM
“Can we please stop talking about my baby boy’s cock at the breakfast table?” Mom says loudly, and everyone goes silent. Even the dogs out in the kennels seem to hush for a moment. But silence never lasts long in this house, and soon we’re at it again.
This time, my sister Ava breaks the quiet, smirking at me as she clarifies, “I didn't say he had a big cock! I just called him a big cock! Like a rooster. Duh!”
My other sisters—Anna and Alice—turn practically purple as they try not to burst into laughter. Their husbands—Gary and Clint—focus on their food and just keep eating. This debate about me and my cock isn’t anything unusual. The Newman family loves and laughs loud and hard, and we argue loud and hard too.
This isn’t an argument though. Everyone knows Ava fucked up.
Between bites of Mom’s famous Sunday-morning pancakes, I say, “Well, Markus’s rapid exit from the wedding suggests he thought you were talking about my big cock.”
A collective groan rises around the table because clearly, despite Mom’s request, my cock is absolutely the thing we’re going to talk about at the breakfast table.
“And for that, I’m sorry.” Ava finally relents, but then her face shifts, a scheming-sister glint in her eyes as she rubs her hands together. “How do we fix this?”
“Oh, no! No way! We won’t do anything.” I look around at my family, staring daggers at each of them. They stare back, and all the busybody energy they project is terrifying. “I want you all to stay out of it. This isn't a problem for the Newman women to solve.”
Alice and Anna bust into a butchered variation of Vanilla Ice’s lyric regarding problem solving. Their husbands chuckle, and I smirk. Ava isn’t distracted. She pushes, trying to convince me to involve her in whatever my plan is to win Markus over. “But I caused the problem, so let me fix it.”
“How exactly do you think you can fix this? Are you going to go up to a virtual stranger and say, ‘Hey, just so you know, I’m his sister’? Do you think it’s any better that my sister was my date to the wedding, and my sister couldn’t stop talking about my cock? Do you think it will fix anything if you make us look like the living embodiment of a Welcome to Schitt’s Creek sign?”
Despite my very valid rant, my family isn’t listening. Ava turns to Mom, gushing, “Oh my God, Mom, you should have seen this guy. Absolute stunner! Dark hair with this surfy wave to it and eyes so blue you’d want to go for a swim. And he was making soft little puppy-dog eyes at our boy.”
Mom rolls her eyes at my sister. “I met him, dear, when I took Elsa in for her vaccinations and?—”
Ava keeps talking, directing her comments to the whole Newman brood now. “During the ceremony, I just happened to grab a seat on the row across from him, and I can tell you, his gaze was firmly frozen on our precious little cock the entire time.”
“So now it’s little?” I grumble.
“Not it , darling, you .” Ava blows me a kiss. The “little” remark is a running joke with my sisters. I’m a foot taller and at least fifty pounds of pure muscle larger than any of them, but because I was born last, they delight in calling me their little brother.
I love these women. Absolutely, I do. But I’ve reached my limit for cock talk with them today. Besides, my shift starts in a couple of hours. Shoving a piece of bacon into my mouth, I stand to leave. With hugs and kisses all around, I make my way to the back door to grab Drusilla for a jog. My parting words are, “I love you all, but no one will fix anything with regard to Markus. There is nothing broken and therefore nothing for you busybodies to fix . Got it?”
Not a single one of them says “got it” back to me. They just stare blankly at me, like a flock of innocent little lambs. Groaning, I go, knowing that it’s a waste of time to argue with them about staying out of my personal life. My family has been overly protective and all up in my business since the day I was born. Well, my father wasn’t. But my mom and sisters have been protecting and babying me from the start. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.
Putting all the drama out of my head, I jog across the lawn to the dog kennels, where I find Drusilla wagging her little tail so hard her whole body wiggles. Aww, there is nothing quite like the simplicity of a dog’s affection. I lavish the sweet girl with rubs and kisses, then we start our jog downtown.
With the weather mild and breezy, it’s a great day for a run. When we reach Markus and Rufus’s place, I climb the stairs and knock on the front door. No one answers.
I’m not entirely surprised. Today is Sunday, the one day a week that the veterinary clinic is closed. Perhaps Markus and Rufus are running errands, or they’ve gone into one of the bigger cities for a brunch break from small-town life. Regardless, they aren’t here, and Drusilla shares my disappointment. We continue our run, just the two of us, going down along the path by the river, up around the high school, and back into downtown.
We stop at the main square, where I get Drusilla some water, then settle onto a bench and toss a ball for her while I check the latest interactions on the video I posted last night. There’s been a lot of activity, with most people commenting about the hunk who stood awkwardly at my table, staring at me as I pointed my camera phone up at him.
“Oh, hello, who is this tall drink of water?” one commenter asked.
“Cheers to you, hot stuff, whoever you are,” another added.
Many more ask for details: Is he a friend, a friend with benefits, or more? What’s his name, why does he look so adorably awkward?
The comments are amusing, but I don’t reply to any of them. I hadn’t really considered what adding Markus’s face to my online channels would mean. But when Rooster Crows features a hot guy on his social media, of course tongues will wag.
With a groan, I slip my phone away, toss the ball a few more times, then walk Drusilla back to Mom’s place and head to the fire station to shower and change before my shift begins. The moment I step into the kitchen, I’m greeted by the amazing aroma of brewing coffee and a chorus of, “Hey, ya big cock!”