Page 46 of Bronco

“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, andI 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 hiscuddles. “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 Iwasn’tuntil recently. Still, this is just a dry spell. That’s all it is. Amber’s the closest woman to me in my life rightnow, 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 Ican’t,butshouldn’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, Icouldjoke 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, orwon’ttalk 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.

10

AMBER

---