Thirteen (Love by Numbers Book 4)

by E. S. Carter

  “Huh. In that case, I’m going to call my girl parts, ‘Chastity Belt’.”

  I stop with one leg out and one leg in.

  “Why would you call it that?”

  She slowly begins to unfasten the poppers that cover her magnificent rack, and although she’s not doing it in a titillating fashion, it’s still hot. If I could get it up right now, that image would be enough.

  “Because my middle name is Chastity.”

  “Hmm, Lilah-Titty, that sounds a better name for your pus…”

  “Did somebody call for first aid?” A male voice cuts me off, and we both swivel our heads in the direction of the newcomer.

  I hobble over to sit on the bench, tossing the overalls in a basket by the gate.

  “Just give me a bucket of ice, mate, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Ice? But I’m a first aider, not a caterer.”

  I glance up at the tall, skinny bloke, who looks as unpractised in first aid as I do and give him a wry smile. “Nothing in that small box of yours is going to encourage my nuts to crawl their way out of my back passage, but some ice might stop them going black when they finally do.”

  He winces and goes to grab his own jewels in sympathy. “I’ll go and get you that ice,” he nods and then scurries away, probably grateful that he didn’t have to take a look.

  “Take me home, Delilah.” I push myself up to standing. “I want to sit in a cold bath for a few hours, until I can swallow without fear of being sick.”

  “Want me to kiss your booboo and make it better?”

  God bless my cock, it tries, it really does try to twitch at her words, but only manages to weakly wave a white flag and admit defeat.

  “Rain check?”

  She smiles sweetly at me, unaware that despite the worst injury of my life, I don’t regret it because I was here with her.

  “Rain check,” she agrees with a nod. “Your turn to pick. I dare you to do better than the city farm.”

  “Not fucking difficult, Bunny Girl. A warzone would be more fun and less dangerous.”

  When I last saw Harry, he had a jumbo bag of frozen peas wedged between his thighs. The useless first aid guy had stolen them from the kitchen, and Harry didn’t wait to get home before he’d wedged those suckers over his bruised bits.

  What a disaster.

  Our first date, okay, third if you count the first two, and it couldn’t have gone more horribly. It was a complete and utter catastrophe, and I couldn’t apologise enough. Just over an hour after picking him up, I was dropping him back home, a broken man.

  Bloody goats; they may look cute on the outside, but those are some seriously devious animals.

  I got home, much earlier than expected and Nicola laughed her arse off when I told her the details. She said that it was a sign.

  “You’re meant to be with this guy.” She said once she’d caught her breath from belly laughing for thirty minutes solid.

  “It’s a sign that he should stay the hell away from me if that’s what you mean.”

  “No, it’s more like a comedy of errors and you pair are the lead characters. The leading lady always gets her guy, so all these fuck ups are a good thing. You’ll see.”

  I’d scoffed at her and called her crazy, never expecting to hear from him again.

  Yet, here I am, the day after my operation, feeling sorry for myself and hating being stuck in the damn hospital again when my phone buzzes on the tray that hovers over the end of my bed.

  I drag the whole thing towards me, half expecting it to be Nic, or my parents, letting me know what time they are visiting today, but it’s not. It’s him.

  My heart skips a beat, and an actual smile stretches my mouth wide. A smile that feels quite foreign on my face, as I’ve been a right moody bitch from the second I arrived here.

  How’s the R&R? Terrorised any of the other guests with your antics?

  Yeah, I never did tell him that I was having an operation, not relaxing in the sun somewhere. The whole ‘Goat-gate’ thing happened, and there wasn’t an opportunity. Well, that’s the excuse I stuck to when Nic asked me if I’d come clean. It’s also the excuse I’ve used to convince myself.

  You call it terrorising, I call it fun. Besides, it’s quiet here. No fun to be had. How are your… delicate parts?

  You can type the word, it doesn’t bite. My BALLS are sore, and my COCK is bruised. Concise enough answer for you? Don’t keep beating yourself up about it, you were just naïve enough to think that goats are not the minions of Satan

  He really does hate goats. I can’t say that I blame him, but I still believe they are cute and we just got unlucky.

  Poor Harry. You should have taken me up on my nursemaid skills.

  You offered a man, who had just had his junk smashed, by the way, to kiss his booboos better. Now, call me a wuss, but there isn’t a man alive that would have said yes at that precise moment in time.

  Shame. I might never offer again.

  Flirty texting is new, but fun. It beats waiting for Dr Anton to come and burst my bubble.

  He’d rather get kissed when he’s fighting fit. He’s not looking his best right now. It wouldn’t be fair to show him off if he’s not in his prime, might upset the poor fella

  Maybe I’ll wait until he’s dressed to impress.

  Just had a chat with Davidson, he’s well up for that. He’s wondering if Lilah-Titty will be coming too?

  Okay…

  She’s named Chastity Belt for a reason.

  Then I add quickly before he can reply,

  Can we stop talking about our bits in the third person? It’s really not tickling any part of my fancy.

  Got it. Always refer to your pussy as your… pussy. I can do that. So, when can I take you out next? It’s my turn to choose and I’m eager to blow your mind

  “Good afternoon, Delilah. How are you feeling today? Has the pain in your stump decreased? Are you still feeling overly sore from the operation?”

  Dr Anton enters my private room and strolls towards my bed with a chart in his hand. I shut down my messages and place my phone back on the tray in front of me.

  “Well, Dr A, which question do you want me to answer first?” I sound like a petulant child, and I hate that I revert to this anytime I’m forced to have a prolonged stay.

  Dr Anton doesn’t react; he just keeps checking the chart waiting for the correct response. He’s not one for playing games.

  I rub my eyes with the heels of both hands and decide to grow up and play nice. “I’m bored. Yes, the pain seems to have decreased, but I’m still on the pain meds and yes, I still feel sore.”

  He smiles at my response and makes me feel like an even bigger arse.

  “Sorry for acting like a teenager. I’ll try and behave better I promise.”

  He finally puts the chart down and begins to check the dressing on my stump.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say a teenager, I’d say more like the ten-year-old Delilah I remember.”

  “Ten-year-old Lilah who decided to cut her hair like a punk princess and didn’t have access to hair dye so painted a stripe of fuchsia pink nail varnish in her fringe instead?” Nicola strolls into the room without greeting and walks right up next to Dr A so she can observe his exam.

  Without blinking or looking away from my stump, Dr A replies, “That’s the one. Shame she also covered a couple of expensive pieces of equipment with that same nail varnish. Try explaining that to the board of directors.”

  I huff at their joint trip down memory lane, but it’s half-hearted and more to cover up my smile at the recollection of that stunt and the trouble it got me in.

  Once Dr A is happy with everything he’s seen, he leaves the room saying that he’ll send a nurse in to change my dressing. Nicola offers, of course, but he brushes her off stating something about hospital policy.

  “Mum and Dad are on their way, but I wanted to get here before them because Wayne has been hanging around our building a lot since the run in you had wit
h him the other day. I didn’t want to say in front of them because you know what Dad will do.”

  I sit up straighter, jostling my sore leg and causing me to wince.

  “Threaten to break his legs again? Yeah, good call on not letting them know. I don’t need to be bailing Dad out of jail because of my biggest mistake.”

  “I do think you need to get a restraining order.”

  My eyes snap to hers. She isn’t joking, her face is completely serious.

  “He’s not a threat, Nic. I just need to get him to sign those papers. He’s probably just pissed off that he saw me with another man.”

  She leans over and grabs my hand, linking my fingers with hers. “It’s more than that, Lils. He’s erratic and acting weird. I know you say he only hit you once, and then you left, but he’s not acting like a sane man. Not that he ever was, but he seems even more off.” She squeezes my hand lightly. “Say you’ll think about it at least?”

  I know she’s right, I had a feeling that seeing Harry would rile him up.

  “Okay.”

  She nods and releases my hand, “Good, I’ll arrange an appointment with the family solicitor when you get out of here. We can go together. I’ve also warned the security guys at our building and they’ve promised to keep an eye out for him.”

  “Good.” My one-word answers are indicative of my feelings, one of my ‘tells’, that Nic doesn’t fail to spot.

  “Listen, don’t worry about him. He’s as good as gone. I just didn’t want to hide anything from you. Besides, it’s time to get that creep out of your life, once and for all. Especially now you have that hottie in a banana car chasing you.”

  I snort, “He is hardly chasing me.”

  She raises both eyebrows ready to argue her point when my phone buzzes against the hardwood tray.

  I know it’s him. I also know his last message talked about pussy.

  Looking from Nic to my phone and back again, I can see her intention and I sweep my hand out to grab the phone, but she gets there before me and stands up out of reach.

  “Hey, standing up is not playing fair when I’m stuck in bed.” I wave my hand out in a ‘gimme’ motion but she ignores it and backs away, her eyes are locked on mine but her finger is swiping the screen to open the message.

  “Who said anything in life was fair, Lils. I mean… Holy fuckity, fuck!” Her eyes are now on the message, and I groan and hold my face in my hands knowing it can’t be good.

  “Radio silence? Is that because I used the words pussy and blow in the same message? What if I substitute pussy for kitty and blow for lick?”

  I peek out from behind my fingers, knowing my cheeks are burning from embarrassment.

  Nicola holds out the phone in front of her like she might catch something. “Really, Lils? Sexting while in a hospital bed?”

  I groan again and remove my hands, leaning forward to take back my phone, but Nic just dangles it out of reach.

  “He doesn’t know I’m in hospital, now give me back my phone.”

  “Nuh-uh. What’s it worth?”

  I bunch my hands into fists and growl at her smirking grin, “I promise not to kick your scrawny arse.”

  She laughs in my face, “I’d like to see you try,” then she proceeds to tap something into my phone.

  “Don’t you bloody dare! Give me back my phone now.” I shuffle my body down the bed, ignoring the pain that lances through my thigh and stump.

  “Dear Harry, my pussy hasn’t seen any action for quite some time. I think it will need far more than a blow to clear away the cobwebs…” she mocks while typing.

  “Nicola! Give me back my phone, or I’ll be paying a visit to Doctor Hottie.”

  My threat lands on deaf ears, and she continues chuckling to herself while grinning at the phone screen in her hands.

  I’m going to fucking kill her.

  I hoist myself up on both arms and force myself down the bed towards her, my good leg hitting the floor first with a thud as my bare foot slaps against cold tile. “I swear to God if you hit send I will tell Dr Hottie you’re a virgin.” My voice begins to rise as I use all my efforts to push myself up off the bed, ignoring the crippling pain. She continues to ignore me, backing away against the far wall, while humming a little tune under her breath.

  Now I’m evil.

  “Scratch that, I’ll tell your entire hospital, no, better than that I’ll tell the whole chuffing world. Nicola Tremere is a Virgin!” I howl out the last sentence at the top of my lungs, then collapse back on the bed.

  I only raise my head when I hear footsteps and squint up to see both my Mum and Dad staring, slack-jawed at the entrance to my room.

  “Oh, hey, Mum,” I wiggle my fingers in greeting, “Dad, I guess you heard that?”

  Sheepishly Nicola walks from the wall and deposits my phone on the bed next to my head.

  My mother blushes but shakes her head in despair, but my Dad just coughs and says, “I think the entire building heard that, but I have to say, it’s what every father is happy to hear about his daughter, so don’t mind us.”

  Now it’s Nic’s turn to groan.

  Hah! That’ll teach her for messing with my phone in future.

  Oh fuck, my phone.

  I turn my head to the side to see my twin grinning broadly at me.

  I am so screwed.

  Well, that’s… interesting and unexpected.

  Dear Harry, my pussy hasn’t seen any action for quite some time. I think it will need far more than a blow to clear away the cobwebs…

  Is it wrong that I found this message all kinds of hot?

  After Lilah had gone silent on me, I worried that my mouth had got me into trouble, yet again. When she finally text back, my Davidson did a little, hell, let’s be honest, it did a big happy dance in my boxers and my lips pursed ready to blow warm air all over Lilah’s… Yeah, I was sick. Sick and sex-starved. That is the only excuse.

  When my phoned buzzed against my leg with another incoming message, I all but came in my pants and wouldn’t that have been embarrassing.

  Sorry Nic got hold of my phone. Please disregard the previous cobweb message. She has a warped sense of humour

  I’m deflated and my ego and my Davidson both suffered the hit.

  Hang on; did she say her sister had her phone? How could she have it when Lilah had told me she’d gone away on her own?

  A smile pulled at my lips. Lilah was deflecting. She’d sent that message and was now trying to take it back.

  So your sister sent that, not you?

  That’s what I said. She’s going to pay for it too

  But isn’t she at home?

  More radio silence. I wait ten minutes before bringing up her number ready to call and tell her not to be embarrassed. Her text was funny, and hot. Well, it made me hot.

  Just as I’m about to hit call, my screen lights up with another text message.

  Change of plans, she decided to come with me last minute. I wish she’d stayed home now. So, have you decided what our next date will be?

  Huh. Change of plans.

  I would have believed it had I not driven past Nicola who was walking down the high street earlier this morning. I’d gone into town on an errand for my mother. She wanted me to pick up Dad’s suit from the dry cleaner’s ready for some party they are attending this weekend, and I know it was definitely her because I had to do a double-take; the similarity to Lilah is striking.

  Why is she lying? Is she avoiding me?

  It doesn’t make sense. If she’s avoiding me why reply to my texts, why not just ignore me and why bother asking about our next date?

  Next date is a surprise. When will you be home so we can arrange it?

  Now is the time for her to confess. To tell me she hasn’t gone away.

  Not due home for another week, then I have a really full schedule in work so we’ll have to play it by ear. Is that ok?

  Just ask her. Call her bluff. Tell her you saw her sister today. Ask her what’
s going on.

  Shame it can’t be sooner, but I can wait. My date will be epic and put all the others to shame. Speak to you soon. H x

  I couldn’t do it. I’m a wuss. A big fat wuss who doesn’t want to burst the bubble.

  As long as I play along, I know I get to keep her in my life a little while longer.

  Sometimes you choose to accept the lies that bring magic to your life, like believing in Santa or the Easter Bunny.

  Despite the lie, I still believe in my Easter Bunny.

  Thank you for waiting for me. I promise to make it up to you. L x

  You already have.

  The following day brings more disappointment; including getting turned down for yet another computer programmer’s position and receiving a threatening letter from my bank.

  With zero money coming in, I’m struggling to pay off all the debts that Bella left me with and despite hating what she’d done to me, I don’t have the heart to call the credit card company and accuse her of fraud.

  I thought I loved Bella; I was ready to marry her until she left me for a slimy, diet juice salesman.

  No point lying to myself I did love her, but she turned that love against me, and I hadn’t seen it coming. I hadn’t seen all the times she ordered a new ‘must have’ gizmo from the internet using my credit card, or that her need for control wasn’t her way of showing how much she cared for me, but a way to oversee and force her will on every aspect of my life. I definitely hadn’t seen her lack of interest in our sex life as a sign that she was humping her new bloke every chance she could get.