All In: Paying His Way (Gambling With Love)

by Lane Hart

  “I do,” I tell them.

  “But Jason doesn’t know?”

  “No clue. He’s never said a word about it to me if so, and I can’t just call him up at Fort Benning. I need to talk to her and find out what the fuck's going on. But all I know is she must be living around here somewhere.”

  “I might be able to help track her down,” Caleb says.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. My best friend Tyler’s a GPD cop. I bet he could probably find an address for her. Do you know her date of birth?”

  “That would be great, thanks. Her name’s Maggie Frasier, and she’s Jason’s age, around twenty years old, so she was born in 1994 or 1995.”

  “Hang tight and I’ll give him a call. Normally he would be over here with us, but he’s at the beach visiting his parents.” Because it’s that M word day and he still has one is left unsaid. Lucky man. Before I turn around that mocking D word day will be coming around too. Maybe I should send my brother a card now that he’s a daddy. That dipshit.

  After all of Jason's fuckups, at least he’s trying to redeem himself by serving his country. I’m just not sure he’ll make it all four years enlistment without getting dishonorably discharged. Jason had just turned sixteen when our parents were killed by a drunk driver. I offered to let him move in with me, but he insisted he wanted to live with Josh, who wasn’t a good role model and had zero sense of responsibility. It was like the blind leading the blind with the two of them, constant parties, girls and drugs. Now that irresponsibility is coming back to bite my youngest brother in the ass. He should’ve come to live with me, and then maybe he would’ve had more goals and ambitions. Hopefully the military will be good for him and straighten him out.

  Caleb pulls out his phone and gives his buddy the information I have for Maggie.

  “He said he’ll ask one of the guys that’s at the station today to run it, and I gave him your number so he can text you whatever he finds out,” he tells me when he hangs up.

  “I appreciate it, Caleb.”

  “Sure. Now try to ease up and go eat something before my wife starts thinking her cooking sucks.”

  “No offense man, but Lauren's cooking does suck,” I say softly. A few weeks ago I nearly upchucked the overcooked crockpot beef stew she made. I didn’t know you could blacken food in one of those devices, but apparently Lauren can.

  “Shit, I know,” Caleb mutters in a whisper. “Just fix a plate with baked beans and potato salad, then trash it when she’s not looking. The burgers are fine since I grilled those.”

  “Thanks for the heads up,” I laugh before getting up from the lawn chair to go do as he said.

  Grabbing a plate at the food table set up in the backyard, I start piling fixings on a burger bun, intent on skipping the sides until Caleb’s wife steps out the back door and walks over.

  “Help yourself, Jordan. There’s plenty,” Lauren says with a smile that I return. It’s a good thing she’s pretty with her long, blonde hair and curves, because her cooking abilities leave much to be desired.

  Now, I know it sounds really sexist of me to think that a woman should be able to cook, but that’s not how I mean it at all. All I’m saying is that I would like to find a woman who can occasionally whip up a decent home cooked meal for me like the ones my mom used to make. Is that too much to ask? Nowadays women don’t cook. They’re too busy working nine to five jobs. So when it comes time to eat, they want to go out to a restaurant and have someone cook for them. I get that; I really do. I just remember my mom’s home cooking and how it was more than a meal when my brothers and I all sat down together to eat. It was a time to catch up and tell each other about our day or week, since I didn’t go over as often after I moved out. We would enjoy a delicious meal right out of the oven, one that Mom spent hours on, cooking from scratch. And you better believe her food was above and beyond anything you could buy in a restaurant, and she made every crumb with love.

  The past few dates I’ve been on were spent in an expensive, trendy new joint where the food cost three times what it’s worth, and my date holds her fork in one hand and her phone in the other.

  If I could find the person who invented cell phones I would probably crack one upside his head. Yes, they make things convenient, and I approve of everyone having one in case of an emergency. But how did we go from using one to call people, to having it in our hands all day and night because we don’t want to miss a Facebook post or a tweet? And why do we really need to know what our friends and family are doing every second? How about back in the day when we used to call each other and have an actual discussion about what we’re up to, instead of posting it online for the world to see when only a handful of people actually give a shit ?

  So, yeah, maybe I’m old fashioned, but I miss sitting down with my family for a meal and eating across from people who actually want to be there, without all the electronic devices constantly in their faces.

  Now, I’ll step off my soapbox and, ironically enough, eat whatever might be edible on my plate while I keep checking my phone until Caleb’s friend comes through with the information he obtained from the technology I just bitched about.

  Chapter Three

  Maggie Frasier

  I’ve just put Camden down to sleep when there’s a knock on the door. If the solicitors or whoever the hell it is wake him up, I will go apeshit on them.

  Getting back up from where my exhausted body just sacked out momentarily on the couch, I go check the peephole. If it’s those religious nuts again, I’m gonna teach them a few new swear words to put in the little book they tote around.

  Standing on my bare tiptoes, I put my eye up to the tiny hole and almost piss myself.

  Jordan Young.

  How the heck did he find me?

  “I see your shadow, Maggie. Let me in,” he says with his thick arms crossed over his broad chest. His short, caramel hair is messy, like his hands have recently been in it, and he’s wearing sexy, aviator glasses, tipping them up on the bridge with one finger so that he can see the bottom of my apartment door.

  I turn the deadbolt and undo the chain to open up since he knows I'm here and he’s obviously not leaving.

  “This place is a dump,” are the first words he says when we’re face-to-face. They complement his wrinkled nose and the look of disgust on his handsome face. Awesome.

  “What do you want, Jordan?” I ask, trying to stay hidden behind the door.

  “Ha!” he barks out a sarcastic laugh before yanking off his sunglasses and storming past me into my apartment, even though I didn’t invite him in. Guess I can safely assume he's not a vampire. And now I’m certain that I’ve read one too many paranormal romances.

  “You know exactly what I want. I want answers!” he exclaims.

  After closing the door, I turn around to follow the oldest brother of my first love into the apartment. I’ve never really noticed a man’s backside before, but Jordan’s is…nice. With golden tanned skin, his gray Wildcats tee stretches tightly over his broad, muscular shoulders, and his waist narrows just before his jeans that are snug in all the right places accentuate his very nice ass. He’s like a giant, walking, talking book boyfriend. Yes, I’m a huge, dorky bookworm.

  When you’re poor, the public library is like how Disneyland is to kids. I can throw myself into a book and get away from my shitty life, even if it’s only for a few minutes or hours. The best part, it doesn’t cost me a penny just as long as I get the book back to the library within two weeks.

  “Pack your shit,” Jordan snaps, spinning around to face me.

  Since I was so busy gawking at him, it takes several seconds for his words to seep into my fantasy hazed mind. Especially when I’m met with his flawless, sculpted face. His clean-shaven jaw makes him look younger than the near thirty years old he must be, and his plump bottom lip sticks out further than the top, like he’s permanently pouting, just begging to be kissed. Dark, nearly black eyes stare back at me with an intensity that steals my b
reath, and his long, black lashes and high cheek bones take him from handsome to beautiful.

  “Excuse me?” I eventually ask when I recover from the stunning perfection before me. Of course I always thought Jason was attractive. It was one of the first things I noticed about him in high school. But compared to Jordan, Jason’s a lost, juvenile boy, while his oldest sibling is most definitely a confident man. One that’s starting to piss me off with his bossiness, but he’s an extremely sexy man who can get away with being an ass.

  “You’re not staying here,” he says curtly with his brow furrowed.

  “Um, yes, I am. I’ve lived here for four months, and it’s not that bad,” I say defensively, crossing my arms over my chest. It’s at that moment when I realize I’m in a thin t-shirt with no bra that barely covers my boy short panties. What the hell? Why didn’t I put on clothes before I answered the door? Most likely because I’m running on five hours of sleep that wasn’t all consecutive. Camden’s going through a four-week-old growth spurt, and my milk jugs can’t keep up production fast enough to make him happy.

  “No, you’re not. You’re coming to stay with me until...does Jason know? Is he paying child support?”

  First off, what the hell? He wants me to stay with him? He’s nuts, because sleepwalking into his bed and molesting him at night would be a very real possibility. And as for the other questions, well, here we go.

  “I told Jason before he left,” I admit, taking a seat on the couch and pulling my legs up to cover them with my shirt.

  “You did?” Jordan asks. He hesitates before sitting on the opposite side of the sofa, probably because it's questionable as to whether or not the brown plaid piece of heavily used furniture will crumble under his body weight.

  “I did. And his response was, and I quote, 'That's a pathetic attempt at trying to get me back. We're done.'" Yes, Jason had been drinking and was likely high at the time, but he left a few weeks later and I haven’t heard a peep from him. I was crushed; but after six months, I’ve forgotten about him. Mostly. Now I only think about him every time I look at his son that’s a tiny clone of him.

  “That worthless dipshit,” Jordan mutters, squeezing his temples and massaging them with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m gonna kick his ass.”

  “I’m done with him,” I blurt out. “He doesn’t want Camden or me, and I don’t want to deal with him anymore. Jason has…issues, and I don’t want him hurting Camden when he gets old enough to remember him.”

  “He deserves to know, and you deserve to have him help you financially,” Jordan says when he levels me with his dark, no-nonsense stare.

  “No. I don’t want anything from him, and definitely not his money,” I declare.

  “Fine. I won’t tell him, at least for now, on one condition,” Jordan says, his eyes darting around the sparsely decorated room.

  “What's that?” I ask curiously.

  “You let me help you. You take my money without argument, and I’ll…fuck, I won’t say anything to Jason until he comes home.”

  “I don’t need your money.”

  “Yes, you do, Maggie. If not for yourself, then for your baby. What were you trying to buy at the grocery store today?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Shit. He had me there. Today’s just the fourteenth of the month; but after paying rent, electricity and buying two weeks’ worth of groceries, I’ve gone through May’s welfare payment. As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough to be on government support, it’s not even enough to help me get by on my own until Camden’s a little older and I can find a job.

  “Were you buying formula?” Jordan asks when I don’t respond to his question. “Look, I’m not gonna sit back and let my nephew starve because my brother’s a dumbass.”

  “I don’t have to give him formula all the time. I’m breastfeeding, but he’s just been really hungry lately and not getting enough milk. We’re fine.”

  “You’re not fucking fine!” he exclaims.

  “Shh. Keep your voice down before you wake him up,” I warn him.

  “Sorry,” he says with an exhale, gripping a handful of his hair and tugging on it. “I just don’t know what to do with all this. What about your family? Can’t you stay with your parents?”

  “Right. My mother just remarried a Baptist minister; and while divorce is perfectly acceptable in their church, bastard children are not. She called me a whore and told me not to embarrass her by coming near them with the ‘product of my sin.’”

  Jordan cringes. “Shit, I’m sorry. What about your dad?”

  “He drives a truck from one side of the country to the other pretty much non-stop, so raising a baby in the cab of a semi isn’t very appealing. And, no, there’s no one else. All my friends from high school are living in dorms at colleges out of state. There’s no one else.”

  “There’s me, Josh and Jake. We’re his uncles. Let us help.”

  “No.”

  “Maggie, damn it!” he says, standing up with clenched fist, his structured jaw tight. I’m no longer able to admire his achingly good looks because that’s when Camden’s lets out the first howl.

  Shit.

  “Sorry,” Jordan says quietly, like his volume matters now.

  I glare at him and leave him standing in the living room to go soothe my baby boy. As soon as I pick him up in his tightly swaddled blanket, his head turns and he starts rooting around, his mouth trying to find my nipple. Of course, because like all men, that’s all he wants from me. I give him a little more slack for being so young.

  Lifting my shirt I pinch my nipple and guide his tiny mouth to it. He latches on right away.

  “Ah, Maggie? I probably should’ve warned you before now that I’m standing in the doorway,” Jordan says after my breast has been exposed and is now in my son’s mouth. Even though my face instantly burns in embarrassment, I try to play it off like I’m not bothered. Like the hottest man in the world didn’t just see my saggy breasts, or the rest of me that’s a complete and utter mess. Did I even shower today? Yes, I thankfully did before I went to the grocery store.

  “He’s hungry and I’m feeding him. It’s no big deal,” I shrug while grabbing another receiving blanket from the dresser drawer and draping it over the right side of my chest. “There, is that better?” I ask him.

  “Um, yeah.”

  I walk past Jordan and head back into the living room to sit down since it’ll be thirty minutes before Camden’s finished eating.

  After I’m settled in, I look up to find Jordan’s masculine, spread leg stance with his hands on his hips taking up most of my living room. I would guess he’s rather stunned based on his continuous blink and parted lips, the thick bottom one looking absolutely suckable.

  Shit. Where the hell did that thought come from? It must be my post-partum hormones jumping for joy at seeing a real live man up close and personal after months of going without. Whatever the heck it is also causes a persistent throbbing between my legs. I'm suddenly so aroused that if I just squeeze my thighs together a little tighter I might actually combust right here and now with a full-blown orgasm.

  It’s official. Sleep deprivation is making me go insane.

  Like usual when Camden’s nursing, my eyelids eventually start to droop. But then I remember I have a really hot guest. Blinking my eyes open again, I glance up to find Jordan standing in the same exact spot with the same frozen expression. I search for something to say and come up empty handed.

  “Do you want to hold him?” I ask.

  “Right now?” he exclaims, an octave or two higher than normal, making me giggle.

  “No, Jordan. After he’s finished eating.”

  “Oh, um, no. I better go. Long drive and all,” he says quickly and I suppress my disappointment. Even though it’s strange having him of all people here in my tiny, ratty apartment, it’s been nice to have someone to talk to. Or rather someone that can talk back to me.

  “Yeah, of course,” I reply, using my free hand that’
s not holding Camden to push my chubby ass off the sofa and show him out.

  “Here’s what cash I have on me. It’s not much-” he starts, digging through his black, leather wallet.

  “I don’t want your money,” I say again.

  “I know you don’t want it, but that’s tough shit,” he says, placing some bills on the kitchen counter near the entryway.

  “Thanks,” I tell him. “But I’m gonna pay you back.”

  “No, you’re not,” he counters before asking, “Can I at least tell Jake and Josh?”

  “Let me think about it,” I say, and he nods.

  “Can I leave my number with you in case you need anything?” he asks with his hand on the door knob.

  “Sure, but I don’t have a phone.”

  “Goddamn it, woman!” he grumbles when he jerks the front door open and steps into the hallway. “I’ll bring you one tomorrow.”

  “No, Jordan. You don’t have to do that,” I say to his retreating back, but he doesn’t respond before he yanks the stairwell door open and disappears.

  Chapter Four

  Jordan

  As soon as I finish up my shift at Danville Electric where I’m the crew supervisor to a few dozen men, I head to the local cellular store to buy Maggie a phone and add it to my account. What single woman doesn’t have a phone in this day and age? One that can’t afford it. Fuck if that doesn’t piss me off, the idea of her living in that crime infested neighborhood without any way to call for help. Or anyone to call for help.

  During the forty-five minute drive to Greensboro, I have too much time to think. I worry about my brother who’ll likely be deployed overseas soon if he doesn’t get kicked out of the Army. That doesn’t mean I’m not so angry with him that I'll likely throttle him the next time I see him. When a woman you’re sleeping with tells you she’s pregnant, calling her a liar is probably not at the top of the list of best ways to handle the situation.

  When I get into town, I stop at Elizabeth’s, one of the best Italian restaurants on the planet, and order a variety of things, calzone, stromboli, manicotti and baked ziti, all of which come with salad and garlic bread. I figure Maggie will eat at least one tonight and can save the rest to have leftovers tomorrow. It was obvious based on her frailness that she barely eats anything, and after what she said about not having enough milk to breastfeed, she probably isn’t getting enough nutrients.