Thirteen (Love by Numbers Book 4) (3 page)

I want to tell him to get stuffed. That spending my free time with a bunch of four-to-eleven-year-olds and their hoity-toity parents, sounds like hell on earth and that I’d rather put my todger through a meat grinder.

Instead, I paste on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, “Count me in.”

His face lights up. Doesn’t that make me feel like the biggest prick ever?

The thing is, Josh is nothing like his brothers.

Whereas Nate, the eldest Fox, is smooth, confident and a ruthless businessman, Josh is an unassuming homebody.

Whereas Jake, my best friend and the second eldest, is a cocky, self-assured (former) womaniser, Josh is a one-woman man, having been with Laura since High School.

He’s nothing like Isaac or Liam either, not that they aren’t great guys, he’s just even nicer. When I say that, I mean in the ‘I am that nice, I don’t even know it’ kind of way. Genuine, dependable and an all round good guy; one it’s impossible to say no to.

“Cheers, H. It’ll be fun, I swear.” He squeezes my shoulder, then reaches for his bottle, bringing it towards his mouth and taking a sip. A sip that almost explodes from his mouth when Isaac murmurs, “Just don’t go offering the headmistress a quickie in the bogs this time.”

I cringe.

Josh didn’t know about my encounter with his cougar boss at the last fete I helped out at.

He splutters behind his hand, his beer going down the wrong pipes and I shoot Iz a ‘What the fuck?’ glare.

“You did what? Please tell me he’s taking the piss?” Josh wipes the liquid from his chin with a napkin and begs me with his eyes to tell him it’s just a joke.

I glare daggers at a smirking Isaac and a chuckling Liam, then turn slightly to face Josh head on.

“Well… it wasn’t quite like
that.
I never shagged her in the bogs, or even got that far. It was more of a miscommunication.”

He looks at me aghast, his previous beaming smile lost in the shock of Isaac’s revelation.

“A miscommunication? What kind of miscommunication leads to you propositioning my boss, my fifty-year-old,
married
boss? Because I can’t think of a good explanation for that, H.” He looks at me like I’m one of his naughty students and I instantly break eye-contact and look down to the floor, like a scolded little boy.

“Well, you had me on the ‘Hook-A-Duck’ game and she was next door on the ‘Get the ball in a jar’ game and she, well… she… umm, well she asked me to pass her the blue balls.”

“And?”

“Well, it was noisy in that hall, all those kids hollering and squealing like a bunch of bloody children.”

“That’s because they
are
children.” Liam offers up, and I snap my head up from looking at the floor to give him the stink eye.

“I still don’t get it.” Josh shakes his head, “How is that an invitation for you to be inappropriate with my boss?”

I chew at my bottom lip, cursing under my breath at those noisy brats who caused all this confusion in the first place.

“Well, the thing is…”

“Spit it fucking out, H.”

All eyes snap towards Josh. He never swears. I guess that means he’s pissed off at me before I even bother explaining.

“Well, I thought she said…” I mumble the last couple of words and they get swallowed up by the music pulsing all around us.

“I can’t lip read, H. Speak up.”

Josh’s voice is hard, stern even and I’ve never seen this side of him before. Maybe there is more to the meek and mild teacher. Maybe he’s not always such a pushover.

I clear my throat and look over at him, but don’t meet his eyes.

“I thought she said, ‘Do you need any help with your blue balls’ and the thing is, I hadn’t had sex for a while and it was not long after Bella left and…”

I’m rambling and I know it. I don’t deal well with pressure.

I hear a restrained chuckle that quickly morphs into a full belly laugh and immediately the words stop vomiting from my mouth.

Josh is doubled over, clutching his belly and laughing hysterically.

Between his hiccups and chortles, he manages to get out, “You thought Mrs Primrose asked if you needed help with your blue balls? Seriously?”

I nod at him, not knowing whether to join in his laughter or wait for him to punch me in the face. A glance at Iz and Liam tells me they look just as bemused by Josh’s reaction, although they also look amused.

He takes in a deep gulp of air, wipes a tear from his eye and looks directly at me, the smile never leaving his eyes.

“Mrs Primrose has been married to her
wife
for ten years. She is no more interested in your balls than I am.”

Well, fuck me sideways.

“She was a right cougar hottie and could have invited me to play the meat in their sandwich, I wouldn’t have complained.”

Groans echo all around me.

“What? Like you weren’t all thinking the same thing. Lesbians are
hot.
Like, they are so hot it’s physically impossible for them to build a snowman.”

More groans, but I just shrug, “Scientific fact, my friends.”

I grab my beer and down the rest of its contents, “So, whose round is it next?”

I look expectantly from Iz, to Josh and then Liam. Each of them wears a similar smile and I’m not sure what I said to garner this response.

“What? You’re all looking at me like I’ve grown an extra tit. Who’s getting them in?”

Liam stands, placing his hand on my shoulder as he walks past me, towards the bar. “It’s good to have you back, H.”

T
he next week flies by.

I’ve tried numerous times to get out of this volunteer gig with Josh, but every time I bring it up via text or when he calls, he always manages to let me know how grateful he is that I’m helping.

Yeah, like I said, he’s got the ‘don’t kick the cute puppy’ trick down pat.

Saturday is here before I know it and I reluctantly make my way to Josh’s school to find out exactly what horrors he has in store for me.

The main car park is packed to bursting with kids and their parents everywhere; it’s like all my nightmares come true.

I borrowed my mother’s car and I’m thankful it’s a tiny, little city mobile as I manoeuvre through the busy parking area, finding a single space right at the back next to a hot as fuck muscle car.

If I were in a better mood, I’d laugh at the irony of me in this pathetic, bright yellow car that’s more like a hairdryer on wheels, pulling up next to this beast of a machine.

Yeah, if I hadn’t had to sell my pride and joy to clear some of the debts that ‘she who must not be named’ left me with, then climbing out of this banana mobile might have been worth a chuckle, but it’s not.

I reluctantly climb out, squeezing myself past the red Mustang and allowing myself a glance at all its curves, when a door slamming on the other side of the car grabs my attention.

Gracefully exiting the ruby mean machine, with curves that far exceed the vehicular ones I was just admiring on the Mustang, is a vision in white.

I can only see her head and torso from the angle I’m standing at, but bloody hell, this girl is fine.

Moulded to her frame is a tight, white t-shirt, displaying a killer rack. I drag my eyes up, away from her boobs just as she bends to get something out of the car and catch sight of her dark locks that are cut in a chin length, uneven style, with one side longer than the other.

Realising that I’m staring, I shake myself off and lock up the banana mobile, hoping that she doesn’t think I arrived in this garish, go-kart.

As I approach the back of the car, movement catches my eye again and I stop to watch her drag a giant rabbit’s head from the passenger seat.

From here, I can see the rest of her is now clad in the matching bunny bottoms and furry top, and she pays no attention to me as she reaches up and pushes the giant head over hers. A few seconds later, the curvy beauty is transformed into a giant, pink bunny, complete with floppy ears and buck teeth.

I’m openly staring now, but figure that she’s a bunny, she’s used to it.

“Hey, can you give me a hand with my eggs?”

The words come out mumbled from inside the huge head and I realise, Bunny Girl is talking to me.

I point to my chest, like a complete idiot and mouth “Me?”

The giant head nods once and a garbled, “Please,” comes from its depths, while a pawed hand motions to the boot of her car.

The old H would have had at least one joke to make about her outfit, but I find myself struck mute by the hot chick in a bunny costume.

The first hot girl since ‘Nut Gate’ to finally stir some life into my Davidson and I can’t even find the words to make a joke about fertilised eggs. Actually, my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, so I can’t find any words at all.

I precariously stack up the egg boxes and load them beneath one arm, while grabbing her bunny basket with the other.

Yes, bunny basket, as in a jumbo basket, covered in bunnies.

Fuck, I can’t even think of something funny to say about that.

Where has my mojo gone when I need it?

“Thanks for helping, carrying anything while wearing this is impossible. Believe it or not, this head weighs a ton and I end up walking more like a duck than a rabbit.”

“Do you often dress up or is this your first time?”

What a stupid fucking question.

I slam the car boot and walk towards the school with Bunny Girl. She’s right; she would make the perfect waddling duck.

She waddles a little faster to keep up, “Yes, I love role play. You should see some of my costumes. Wonder Woman, Naughty Nurse, Dominatrix X; you name it, I have it.”

I stop dead in my tracks causing her waddling to falter.

“Did you just say you dress up often? As a Dominatrix?”

The bunny head turns to look my way and a muffled snort erupts from the girl within. “Yes, Yes I did.”

My jaw hits the floor and I scramble to stop the egg boxes from falling out of my arms.

Her snort turns into full blown belly laughing, and she doubles over, her giant head lolling to one side.

“I… I just can’t…” more uncontrollable giggling, “I’ve just always wanted to say something like that to someone. I’m sorry… I’m pulling your leg.”

She straightens, hiccupping slightly, “Your face is a picture, and totally worth the stitch I have in my side from laughing so hard.”

She extends her furry paw to me, “Let’s start again. Hi, I’m Delilah, but my friends call me Lilah.”

I look at my full arms and then back to the pink paw thrust at my chest.

“I’d shake your paw, but, umm… I don’t want to fertilise… I mean scramble your eggs.”

Fuck.
This bunny has got me flipped like a pancake, and I’m dangerously close to escaping the pan and ending up on the floor.

Ruined. A ruined, fucking pancake.

The bunny head tilts slightly to one side, “You’re a funny guy. I like that,” is the quietened response that I can’t help but smile at. Even off my game, this bunny thinks I’m funny.