Luckiest Bastard (Bastard #1.5)

by J. L. Perry

  She started dating John Shepard six months ago. It was a whirlwind romance you could say. I guess she’s been alone since I was born, so I can’t really blame her for wanting a companion. It’s always been just the two of us. At first I kind of liked the idea of having a father figure around, but my hopes were soon dashed when I got to know Fuckwit. That’s my pet name for him. It suits him perfectly.

  I saw the difference in her when she’d come home from being out with him. She was happier. Lighter. Like she was floating or some shit. I liked seeing her like that. She deserved happiness.

  They’d been seeing each other for a few months before she brought him to the house to meet me. I was on my best behaviour the first time we met. I did it for her. He was very pleasant until she left the room for a few minutes to get us some drinks. The way he looked me up and down with disdain instantly had my suspicions rising. As time wore on, those looks turned into hateful remarks. In the beginning I’d done nothing to provoke them. I guess he just took a disliking to me for some reason. Maybe because I was a bastard. Who knows? I was used to rejection. I’d faced it my whole life.

  My mum’s love has always been unconditional. Even when I acted up, she still loved me, still cared. I’ll be forever grateful for that. She’s been through a lot with me over the years, but her feelings for me never wavered. Not once. I was nothing to Fuckwit, I guess. Just a thorn in his side. Someone standing in the way of him being with my mother.

  I was shattered when he proposed and she accepted, but I didn’t let her know that’s how I felt. I wasn’t about to burst her bubble. She deserved happiness after all the sacrifices she’d made for me over the years. I wasn’t about to stand in her way.

  The day he finally put the ring on her finger was the same day he made his true feelings for me be known. They had some lame-arse civil ceremony at the registry office. It was my mum’s first marriage. She deserved so much more than that. I didn’t even want to attend, but she wanted me there, so for her sake I had to grin and bear it.

  Afterwards, the three of us were heading to a nice restaurant for a celebratory lunch. Well, they were celebrating. I sure as hell wasn’t. My mum asked Fuckwit to stop off at the local patisserie so she could buy a nice cake to take with us. The minute she was out of the car he gave me a hateful look through the revision mirror.

  “I love your mother,” he told me. “But don’t think for a minute that any of that affection extends to you, because it doesn’t. In my eyes, you’re the unwelcomed part of the package.” I hate to admit it, but his hurtful words stung. It only served to make me feel even lower about myself.

  Why was I such a hard person to love?

  Before I get a chance to close the trunk, my stepfather leans out of the driver’s side window. “Hurry up, son. I haven’t got all day,” he sneers in a sarcastic tone. I swear he does shit like this to bait me. My head snaps in his direction.

  “I’m not your son. You best remember that, old man,” I retort, my eyes narrowing. “If you got off your arse and helped instead of sitting there barking orders at me all afternoon, we would’ve finished hours ago.”

  Throwing back his head, he laughs at my comment. He acts so sweet in front of my mum. She falls for his pathetic shit all the time. Truth is, he’s a fake-arse prick. As soon as my mum’s back is turned he treats me like dirt. She might love him, but I don’t. I fucking hate him. This is going to be the longest six months of my life.

  Slamming the trunk shut, I make my way around to the passenger side of the car. “Wipe your damn feet before you get in the car,” he barks. I swear if there were some dog shit nearby right now, I’d tread in it just to spite him.

  Sighing, I do as he asks before seating myself in the passenger side. “Prick,” I mumble under my breath.

  “Watch that smart mouth of yours, boy. I won’t tolerate you speaking like that in my house, and especially in front of your mother.” I’d never speak like that to my mum. Him though, that’s a whole other story.

  Ignoring him I turn my head, gazing out the window, taking one last look at my home as he backs out of the drive. Christ, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and I already want to punch him.

  Not a word is spoken on the drive to his place. I’m thankful for that. My stomach is in knots. Living with this arsehole is going to be pure fucking hell. I have no idea what my mother sees in him, but surprisingly he makes her happy. That’s the only reason I’m going along with this bullshit. I’m doing it for her, no other reason. After everything she has sacrificed for me she deserves to be happy.

  It’s about an hour’s drive from my old neighbourhood to the gates of hell. Fuck, I need a cigarette. As soon as we pull into the street I’ll now be calling home, my heart rate picks up. The street is lined with perfect houses, with perfect lawns and fancy manicured gardens.

  I hate it here already.

  “This is your new home, my home. Remember that,” Fuckwit says when we pull into the driveway.

  “Whoop-de-fucking-do,” I reply as I exit the car before he has a chance to say another word. I make my way around to the back of the vehicle to unpack the boxes. Of course that lazy fucker heads straight inside. I guess I’ll be doing all the work again.

  Figures.

  As I go to open the trunk, I’m stopped when I hear laughter. Pure, sweet, sickening laughter. My head snaps in the direction it came from, and that’s when I see her. Well actually, the first thing I see is her tight little arse. She’s bending over patting a dog, wearing these sexy little shorts. Tearing my eyes away from her, they land on the dog. It’s a long-haired German Shepherd.

  The perfect dog.

  Growing up I always wanted a dog like that, but living in an apartment building that didn’t allow animals made it impossible.

  When the girl stands up straight my eyes move up to her long, dark hair that now cascades down her lean back. The sun’s beaming down on it, illuminating its shine. I find myself wishing she’d turn around so I can see her face. She doesn’t, so my gaze moves back down to her arse. Fuck me, what an arse.

  Images of me wrapping her hair around my wrist as I bend her over, pounding her from behind enter my mind. It makes my dick stir. Jesus, why did I let my thoughts go there? Her body might be rockin’, but that doesn’t mean her face is. I guess, if I was giving it to her from behind, that wouldn’t really be a problem anyway.

  I watch as she raises her arm, throwing the ball across the yard. She’s got a pretty good throw for a girl. The dog turns, galloping towards it. When he makes his way back he almost bowls her over in his excitement. She starts to laugh again, and I feel the corners of my lips turn up in a smile as I watch them.

  “Good boy,” she says in a sweet voice as she scratches him behind the ears. “Who’s a good boy?” When the dog notices me standing there watching, he drops the ball from his mouth and trots in my direction.

  “Hey boy,” I say holding my hand out for him to sniff. He seems friendly so I reach down, running my fingers through his long mane. I can feel my smile widen. Smiling is something I don’t usually do.

  “Lassie,” I hear her call out, making my smile instantly turn into a scowl. She’s got to be fucking kidding. Lassie? She had the audacity to name this cool dog Lassie. What in the hell was she thinking? He looks more like a Rambo or Butch, definitely not a fucking Lassie.

  “You poor thing,” I whisper as I scratch him behind the ears. “She’ll probably be cutting your balls off next and putting a fucking bow in your hair.”

  My head snaps up and my brow furrows as she makes her way towards us. Fuck me if her face isn’t as beautiful as that luscious body of hers. I swear my jaw goes lax as she approaches. She’s a fucking babe. Her long dark hair frames her angelic face. Her large eyes are surrounded by thick, dark lashes. Her creamy skin is flawless, just making me itch to touch it. My eyes drift down to her tits. They’re kind of small, but more tha
n a mouthful’s a waste, I suppose. She has a cute little button nose that makes me want to throw up in my mouth.

  Okay, maybe that last comment was a bit over the top. That’s just my bastardry rearing its ugly head. It’s a defence mechanism I’ve developed and mastered over the years. A barrier I’ve put in place. I hate that she’s already making me feel things I don’t want to feel. I’ve learnt over the years if you can’t feel, you can’t hurt. If I’m going to be seeing her daily, I need to nip this shit in the bud right now before it gets out of hand.

  “Hey, you must be Carter. Your mum told me you’d be moving in today.” Her beauty has rendered me speechless. What the hell?

  Pulling myself together I straighten up to full height, towering over her tiny frame. Her sexy-as-fuck plump lips curve up into a smile as her beautiful green eyes meet mine. “I’m Indiana. Your new neighbour,” she says sweetly, extending her hand to me.

  Game on.

  It’s time to push her away before she gets too close. It’s called self-preservation. I learnt a long time ago, it lessens the sting if I reject someone before they get a chance to do that to me.

  My gaze moves down to her extended hand then back up to her face. “You called your dog Lassie?” I snarl. “What were you fucking thinking? That’s a pussy name for a dog like this. You do realise he’s a boy, right?”

  Her sweet mouth opens in shock and her pretty green eyes widen before narrowing into slits. “The dog that played Lassie in the movies was a boy too, you know,” she retorts, folding her arms over her chest. If she’s trying to look tough she’s failing miserably. Crossing her arms only manages to push her perky little tits up further. I feel my cock grow at the sight, and that pisses me the hell off. I hate how she’s having this effect on me.

  Opening the trunk, I reach in to retrieve a box and place it in front of me. The last thing I want her to see is the damn hard-on she’s just given me.

  “What’s your problem anyway?” she asks, her eyes meeting mine again. “You’re not exactly making a great first impression.”

  I almost want to smile at her fucking attitude, but there’s no way in hell I’ll be giving her that satisfaction. “I don’t give a fuck what you think of me, kid. Why don’t you run along and go play with your dolls like a good little girl?”

  I’m really struggling not to smile now as her eyes widen in disbelief at the way I’m speaking to her. When her lips open, forming a perfect little O, all I can think is she has the most fuckable mouth I’ve ever seen. That thought only makes my cock even harder.

  Sweet Jesus, what is she doing to me?

  I’m surprised I almost feel bad for the way I’m treating her, but riling her up is way too much fun. I’m not about to stop now.

  “Well that’s just plain rude. Something pretty shitty must’ve happened in your life to give you such a bad attitude.” She hit the nail right on the head. It sure did I want to say, but I don’t. My brow furrows. Why does her saying that piss me off even more?

  I hate that in less than a minute she has already seen through my facade. What is she, some kind of crazy clairvoyant or something? My eyes lock with hers again, and the sympathetic look I see on her face makes me dislike her even more.

  “Nope. I’m just a bastard, and stop fucking looking at me like that. You’re creeping me the hell out.”

  “Like what?” she huffs, placing her hands on her hips.

  “Like you feel sorry for me. I don’t want or need your sympathy. The sooner you learn that the better off we’ll all be, Princess. Do yourself a favour kid, stay the fuck away from me.” She gasps at my words and a satisfied smile crosses my face.

  Mission accomplished.

  “Later, Larry,” I say to the dog, giving him one last scratch behind the ears before walking away.

  “His name’s Lassie, arsehole,” she snaps to my retreating back.

  “Not to me it isn’t,” I chuckle as I walk towards the house. “You won’t catch me calling him that pansy-arse name.” Maybe living here isn’t going to be as bad as I thought.

  “Come on boy,” I hear her say, exhaling an exasperated breath.

  As I walk up the porch stairs to my new hell, I hear her front door slam shut. Surprisingly, this makes the smile instantly drop from my face. I actually feel shitty for the way I just treated her. I don’t often feel remorseful for my actions.

  Why am I such a bastard? That’s right, I was born one.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used factitiously. Any resemblance to the actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in Australia and New Zealand in 2015

  by Hachette Australia

  (an imprint of Hachette Australia Pty Limited)

  Level 17, 207 Kent Street, Sydney NSW 2000

  www.hachette.com.au

  Copyright © J. L. Perry 2015

  This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be stored or reproduced by any process without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

  Cataloguing-in-Publication data is available from the National Library of Australia

  ISBN: 9780733635816

  Cover design by Soxational Cover Art.