Page 71 of Stroked Hard
Once my stomach stops growling, my mind registers what Reese said. “You saw her yesterday?”
He nods, eyeing my dessert. Look all you want, fucker, you’re not getting any.
“Yeah, she was with Paisley.”
“And . . .” I motion for him to continue with my spoon in my hand.
“And what?” He shrugs. “She was there.”
“Fuck, you’re infuriating. Did she say anything about me?”
“Do I look like the town gossip? I wasn’t really paying attention. I was more focused on the way Paisley’s shorts looked on her. She has some fine-as-fuck legs.”
Putting a giant scoop of ice cream in my mouth, I say, “You’re useless.”
Reese sits still for a second and then taps the side of his head with his index finger, as if a light bulb just popped up. “You know, now that I think about it . . .”
I know that look. He wants something. It’s never easy with this fuckhead.
“What’s it going to take?” I ask, eying him with disdain.
He nods at my bowl. “Half of your dessert.”
“Half? Are you fucking crazy? Three spoons, that’s it.”
“Four,” he counters and licks his lips.
“What happened to healthy eating and making sure you’re in top form and all that bullshit?”
He shrugs. “Eh, it’s my last Olympics, I can cut myself a break. Now, four spoonfuls or no information.”
“How do I know what you’re going to say is worth four spoonfuls?”
“Valid point. How about I tell you what I heard and then you can judge the amount of spoons I get, but you can’t go any lower than two?”
Bartering, I like it.
“No lower than two, no higher than four.”
Reese holds his hands up. “Hey, if you want to go higher than four, that’s your deal. Who knows maybe what I have to say is worth five spoons.”
“Doubtful, but you have a deal. Spill it.”
Satisfied with his deal, he says, “While staring at Paisley’s legs, I might have heard Paisley talking to Melony about you.” With spoon in hand, he reaches for my dessert, which I quickly hide from him.
“Are you insane? You’re not getting anything for that information. That’s not even worth mentioning.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“Then finish, asshole, because this ice cream is starting to melt.”
Sighing, he runs his hand over his beard as if he’s trying to decide how to convey the information he has for me. “How much are you set on Melony?”
“Very set.” There is more conviction in my voice than ever.
“Well, you might be in for a world of hurt because she made it quite clear that she doesn’t ever plan on being in a relationship.”
“With me?” I ask, feeling slightly disheartened.
