All In: Paying His Way (Gambling With Love) Read Online Free Page A

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.
    Maggie breastfeeding is not something I need to be thinking about. Ever since I accidentally caught a glimpse of her bare, heavy breast, I can’t get rid of the image. I need some Clorox to scrub my memories free of that damn titty. The idea that the simple sight made my cock hard and my mouth water with an overwhelming desire for a taste is so fucked up that there are no words foul enough to describe how big of a pervert that makes me. She’s barely legal and she’s my brother’s girlfriend or ex-girlfriend for Christ’s sake! And holy hell, don’t even get me started on seeing her in those tiny shorts or panties. I don’t know what they were, but they weren’t covering much of her curvy ass at all.
    Telling myself that I will be a goddamn gentleman and not look at my brother’s baby mama’s lady parts tonight, I juggle carrying the stacked cardboard boxes and brown paper bag up the stairs to her third floor