Jet
Barber shares a house with his sister, Alma. One evening, when he
comes home from work, she's busily preparing a very nice meal.
Instead of two spots at the table, three are set. She tells Jet she's
expecting her boyfriend, Spense. She wants Jet to vet him before she
allows the relationship to go to the next level. Since Jet is almost
six and a half feet tall of seriously jacked man, he has a talent for
scaring off all but the most interested suitors.
Spense
was six feet tall, broad shouldered, with close cropped dark blond
hair. His blue eyes were penetrating and held a glint of humor in
them. He smiled when Jet opened the door, shifting both packages to
one side. He held out his hand, grinning.
"You
must be Jet. Spenser Thomas."
Jet
shook his hand, squeezing a little. Spense squeezed back. The smile
didn't fade, but a wariness came into his eyes.
"Alma's
in the kitchen."
Spense
lifted his chin, eyeing the taller man carefully. "But you want
to talk to me first."
They
moved into the living room and sat down. Spenser set his packages on
the coffee table.
"Let
me be totally up front, Jet. I like your sister. She's smart, funny,
dead sexy and cooks like a pro. Do I want in her pants?" He
spread his hands. "I'm a red blooded, heterosexual man."
Jet
smirked. "There's a yes."
"But
I'm not pushing. If I just wanted in her bed, I'd be there already.
You know the drill."
Jet
did. He'd used his charms to get what he wanted more than once. He
never forced a woman to have sex, but he made it clear what he wanted
and got it more often than not.
"She
wants us to meet and I'm sure that's because she's got some deep
seated worry that she'll never in a million years tell me about. So,
ask me anything. I'm an open book."
"Got
a job?" Jet fired the first volley.
"Yes.
I work for Thomas and Sons. I'm one of the sons. It's an investment
firm."
"You're
a broker?"
"No.
I'm the janitor." He laughed, shaking his head. "My actual
title is investment counselor. I tell people what's a good investment
and what isn't. I make good money."
"Heavy
drinker?"
"I
have a couple beers a week, a Scotch once in awhile. I get flat assed
drunk on my birthday—it's the only time."
"Disease
free?"
"Are
you?"
Jet
smiled. "Yeah."
"Me
too. I was tested less than six months ago. I play clean, but you
know nothing's fool proof."
"History
of violence against women? Jail time?"
"Adamant
no and I spent the night in jail once when I was seventeen. Old man
wanted to teach me a lesson."
"Been
there."
"Planning
on fucking my sister and dumping her?"
"Never
in a million years. I like her too much."
Jet
nodded, considering that answer. It sounded sincere, just as the rest
had. His bullshit monitor wasn't going off. There wasn't even the
hint of a ping.
"I
really like your sister, Jet. I want to see if this can go somewhere.
I'm sick of being alone." He cleared his throat somewhat
self-consciously. "Anything else you want to ask me?"
Jet
cleared his throat, too. This guy was on the level. "Yeah. You
want a beer?"
"I
brought wine to have with dinner."
"Let's
get the cork screw."
Jet
led Spense into the kitchen. Spense walked over to Alma and handed
her the parcels. One was the bottle of wine, the other was a box of
her favorite chocolates.
"I
would have brought flowers, but I know they make you sneeze."
Alma
put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Spense, wisely, kept it
chaste in front of her brother. Jet did his best to be small and
invisible, nearly impossible for a man his size. He put the white
wine in the refrigerator before walking into the living room. He felt
decidedly like a third wheel. That didn't bother him as much as the
idea that Spense was probably going to get lucky tonight and he
hadn't a snowball's chance of getting laid himself.
Alma
giggled and Jet knew for a fact that she and Spense were going to get
busy later. He hoped they would go to his place. Or maybe hell would
freeze over or the Earth would blow up so he wouldn't have to hear
it. He'd opt for a hurricane or even a squall.
"Dinner!"
Alma called.
©
2018 Dellani Oakes
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