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Emerson
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COLT, ZERO.
Emerson, one.
I laugh as Colt swings the putter like a baseball bat, sending the golf ball flying straight into the center of the windmill.
“He’s doing it on purpose. He’s taunting me!” he growls, jabbing the putter in the air at the windmill.
“He?” I snicker. “The windmill?”
“Yes. Look at him. Standing there, all tall and powerful. Oscillating blades and...”
“It’s a windmill. Relax.” I tap his cheek and write his score on the score card. He’s maxed-out every shot.
Colt shot down my idea of mini golf the second I suggested it. He wanted to play basketball. No surprise there. But now I understand why. He really sucks.
Mr. James was on my side and thought mini golf sounded like a fun way to introduce us to Jody.
Boy was he wrong. Poor Jody didn’t know what to expect with Colt’s first outburst after he released the putter mid-swing and it landed in the pond. He can be a little much to handle if you’re not used to him. It hasn’t taken her long to realize that Colt doesn’t mean to be rude or insensitive. He’s a little overpassionate about some things, like not losing.
Not that he cares what she thinks of him. But he cares how he reflects on his dad. He wants his dad to be happy, and judging by the way Mr. James looks at Jody, she makes him happy. His eyes twinkle, crinkling at the corners as he smiles every time she speaks. He listens to every word she says with rapt attention. Holds her hand and helps her over the obstacles in the golf course.
It’s sweet.
“They’re cute,” I say, nudging Colt with my hip and shoulder as Mr. James leans over Jody under the guise of helping her line up her next shot, though I’m sure she doesn’t need the help. They’re like teenagers.
Colt screws up his face. “It’s gross.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Of what?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who doesn’t enjoy seeing that.” I point to his dad laughing with Jody.
Colt frowns. “There’s something wrong when your father gets laid more than you do.”
“Whose fault is that?” I laugh.
He gives me a hard stare. “Yours.”
My eyes widen. “Don’t blame me. You can bang Jane’s brains out anytime you want.”
“Believe me, I’ve tried. Many times.” He walks around and comes to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against him. “But he has grown rather fond of you and only you.” His erection presses into my lower back.
“It seems so.”
Colt’s lips brush my ear, his hands sliding up and down my arms. “If there is to be any laying, it’ll be me and you.”
Heat floods my body at his words. Laying. Me. Him. My nerves are alight with excitement at the prospect. “You want to...” I stop, unsure if I can voice the question.
“Fuck you?” His voice rumbles, low, sending tingles down my spine, straight to my core. I clench my thighs.
“Yes.” My voice is a whisper. Too nervous, too afraid, too turned on.
He moans, his teeth biting into the top of my shoulder. “You have no idea.”
“Will you kiss me first?”
“No.” He skips away from me with a laugh.
Weirdly, I’m not hurt. I’m not disappointed. The fact he doesn’t want to kiss me means nothing.
“What’s taking so long?” Mr. James calls out, snapping me out of my daze and bringing me back to reality. Colt huffs out a breath. Mr. James and Jody are almost finished the course. “You’ve got a lot of balls and holes left to fill.”
Colt chokes, coughing and spluttering, and I bite my lip to stop from laughing. I’m sure Mr. James didn’t mean for it to sound so rude, but it did.
“Three,” Colt leans in and whispers before lifting his head and calling out to his dad. “Coming.”
“Three?” I count the number of holes left before we reach the end of the course. There’s six.
He drags his gaze over me, sending a tingle down my spine. “I can think of three holes I’d like to fill and none of them are on this course.”
“Three?” I count in my head, again. One. Two... Three.
Ohhh.
“Mmm-hmm.” He pinches his bottom lip as he surveys me. There’s a glint in his eyes, and I think I might let him do whatever he wants. Kiss or no kiss. He adjusts his shorts and moves to line up his ball. “How about a little wager?”
“Don’t you think we’ve had enough wagers?” I arch an eyebrow.
Colt shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What did you have in mind?”
We’re already treading on dangerous ground. We’re messing around in ways we shouldn’t be, yet neither of us seem to want to stop. So, I’m more than a little curious what this wager is.
“For every shot I get under par, you let me do whatever I want to you.”
“What do I get out of that?”
“Fun. Orgasms.”
I stare at him, waiting for more. “Not enough,” I lie. It’s more than enough.
“For every shot you get under par, I’ll do whatever you want.”
I perk up. My mouth drops open. “Like kiss me?”
It’s almost unnoticeable, but he winces before he schools his features into a calm and nonchalant expression. “Sure. I’ll kiss you.”
My heart stops. As much as I want him to be my first kiss because he’s the only guy I trust, I couldn’t do that to him. He’s saving his kiss for the love of his life. I’d never take that away from him. But the fact he’s willing to give that up means more than he’ll ever know.
“You’re on.” I extend my hand and shake his.
Then I lose every hole while Colt wins every single one.
Shame that.
Now he can do what he wants.
“It’s amazing how much your concentration and ability to play mini golf improves with the promise of sex,” I say, tallying up the score card at the end of the game.
“What can I say? I’m full of focus and determination when it’s directed at something important.” Colt nudges me with his elbow.
I shake my head. Such a Colt thing to say.
We finish our day of mini golfing by taking Mr. James and Jody out to dinner.
“Sorry, the old man didn’t tell us about you until this morning, otherwise we’d have invited you out with us last night, too,” Colt apologizes to Jody, and she laughs it off.
I smile, unable to hide it. Colt’s trying his hardest to be nice and pretending to care about Jody’s feelings. Though, I’m glad she didn’t come and witness the mess last night turned into.
“It’s fine. I know what a big step it was for him to do this. And for you, too, Colt.” She places a hand on his arm and smiles at him.
Colt pulls out my seat and then bumps Mr. James out of the way to pull out Jody’s too.
Mr. James stares at him, a look of bewilderment on his face. “When the hell did you get manners?”
I raise my hand. “We’ve been practicing.”
“I tried for years to get him to be polite, or at least pretend to care, and you’ve done it in a few months. How?” Mr. James asks. He’s been trying his best to help Colt fit in, but it’s been hard.
“Blow jobs,” Colt announces, and Jody chokes on a mouthful of water, glancing between me and Colt.
Mr. James rears back. “What?”
I wave my hands frantically between us, shaking my head, but Colt stops me, grabbing my hand and bringing it to rest on his lap.
“Jesus, Dad. Not Emerson.” He squeezes my hand tighter and slides it up his thigh to the bulge between his legs, and I catch the word he hasn’t said; ‘Yet,’ before I yank my hand away. There’s a time and place for everything. Sitting across from his dad in a busy restaurant is not the place to get touchy.
Mr. James sighs in relief, his shoulders relaxing as he leans back in his chair and chances a wary glance at Jody. Judging by her expression, she’s all too aware of Colt and his...open-ness, or lack of filter now because she turns to the waiter who’s appeared at the table and, with a smirk, orders a bottle of wine. Can’t blame her, really.
If I didn’t hate alcohol, I’d be drunk ninety percent of the time living with Colt.
“But Em promised me blow jobs if I learned to be polite, nice, and showed respect.”
Mr. James coughs and chokes, glaring at me. I shake my head, reassuring him I wouldn’t give his son a blow job for saying please and thank you.
“Sorry, she promised other girls would be more likely to give me blow jobs if I was nice. And learned their names. I met a sweet girl, Dad, too. Her name is Liza.”
Not true. I promised no such thing. Please stop saying blow jobs.
“Jane. Her name is Jane,” I interject, but Colt ignores me.
“Lavinia is a prettier name,” he says, and I groan. Poor Mr. James rubs the bridge of his nose before apologizing to Jody.
It’ll be a long night.
***
SAYING GOODBYE TO MR. James the following morning is harder than I thought it would be. I don’t think either Colt or I realized how much we missed him or missed being home.
He stands out the front with his hands in his pockets while Colt loads the car with our bags. Work gave me a week off, and we planned to stay with Mr. James for the week, but we didn’t realize he had plans with Jody.
He apologized profusely, going so far as to offer to cancel his plans so we could stay longer, but we wouldn’t let him. It’s almost summer break, and we have more than enough time to come back and visit before the summer is over.
“Well, thanks for coming to visit your old man.” He rubs the back of his neck. He hates goodbyes.
Colt pulls him into a hug. “I’ll be back soon. Thanks for the weekend. Hope you enjoyed it.”
“Best birthday ever. Love you, son.”
Colt clears his throat and shuffles awkwardly on his feet. “Love you, too.” He doesn’t express emotion or profess his feelings often, but he loves his dad and it means a lot to Mr. James when he says it.
Mr. James pats Colt on the back as he releases him then stretches his arms out to me. His eyes are glassy and I’m sure he’s trying to hold back the tears.
I fall into his arms and attempt to fight off my own. I don’t want to leave. I’ll miss him too much. I’ve felt more wanted and loved in the last two days than I have in my entire life.
“Be patient. He’ll figure it out. If not, you might need to kick him in the ass and shock it out of him,” Mr. James whispers in my ear.
I pull back, wondering what he’s talking about, and then wondering if he’s getting himself confused. At what age can a person suffer dementia? But he nods at me, giving me a confident smile and adds, “You’ll figure it out, too.” Then he chuckles and pulls me back in for a hug. “I love you, kiddo.”
And that’s when the tears I fought so hard to stop spill over. They flow, unstoppable down my cheeks, and I can barely form the words to say back to him. Mr. James nods and smiles, saying, “I know,” as he deciphers my mumbled words.
“Go on. You better get on the road before it gets too late.”
With one last goodbye, Colt and I climb into the car. And it’s not until we’re driving away that I realize we had an audience next door.
My mom was standing in the front window watching.