Page 55 of Bronco

I tilt my head to the side. “Glad I amuse you. What’s so funny?”

“Bronc, you haven’t had sex with a girl, in like, how long?”

Now I regret being so honest.

I told Crystal how long; six months to be precise, but that doesn’t mean I want to broadcast it or that I want Amber knowing how pathetic I am.

I tap her cute button nose. “A gentleman never tells.”

She laughs even harder. “You know what just struck me?” I wait in anticipation for what she’s about to say next, but it kinda shocks me all the same. “You are kinda perfect.”

My frown turns into a lazy smile. “I’ve thought this for some time myself.”

“Oh, my God! Stop it, I’m gonna pee my pants!”

“You said it. Let’s examine the evidence, or would you like to do the honors yourself?”

“I’d love to.” She starts counting on her fingers. “You have a good job, and you’re a committee member of the MC. Your mom’s amazing. You can cook, sort of. You love the Pelicans. You’re kinda good looking, but a little scary if you’re not smiling. Your hair is naturally thick and lustrous. Your eyes are insanely pretty. You have your own house, car, sled, and — as far as I can tell — no crazy exes lurking around the corner. How am I doing so far?”

You’re kinda good looking? My eyes are insanely pretty? Why is it like she’s talking directly to my cock?

“You’re observant,” I joke. “But you forgot about my six pack, my record as an all-star quarterback, and my huge cock.” The words are out, and I mean them in gest, but her eyes still widen.

She leans in closer, so we’re whispering. “So, is it true?”

I lean in too, lowering my voice. “Is what true?”

“You said nine inches.”

I sit back in my chair, spreading my legs a little wider. “I’ve not had any complaints.”

“That isn’t answering the question. I just know guys love to brag about their dick sizes, and usually it’s to overcompensate because they’re small.”

“Trust me, I’m not.”

Without hesitation she says, “That’s almost twenty-three centimeters.”

I shoot her a look. “You measured?”

She shrugs. “I may have.”

“The question is, why are you so interested in my dick size when you’ve got Ben’s half-mast-probably-can’t-even-get-it-up noodle to look forward to.” I smirk at my own joke.

She narrows her eyes, but I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. “How long have you been waiting to use that line?”

“Since I found out you were goin’ on a date with him.”

“I don’t know why this date bothers you so much,” she goes on. “And don’t say it’s because of all your woo-woo crap.”

“Hey, it’s not crap. My premonitions are usually pretty accurate.”

“Name one time they’ve been accurate,” she challenges.

“I joked one day and said Star looked big enough to be carryin’ twins.” Okay, probably not a good thing to say to a pregnant woman, and it earned me a slap upside the head, but was I wrong?

“That is pretty freaky.”

“I can also predict storms; such as the one comin’ this year. We’re gonna get snow, just for the record.”

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