The Curvy Sister (A BBW Erotic Romance) (10 page)

“It’s going to be sticky. We
need towels,” my mother called.

And Jason, without missing a
beat, answered, “I’ll get them.”

He turned abruptly like he
knew my house by heart, in the dark, while preoccupied with my mouth and
thighs. Several nosy women glanced his way when he stopped in the archway
leading down the hall to the guest bathroom. Sweat broke out across the back of
my neck and I took a jerky step forward to stop him, but too slow.

He caught his error and
turned to find me in the crowded kitchen. “It’s this way? I guess it’s been a
while since I was here last.”

I set my uneaten sandwich and
drink on the counter and hurried to meet him. Too many eyes followed.

“I’ll show you,” I murmured,
and pushed him into the hallway. Once out of the way of prying eyes, the
chit-chat and good natured laughter filled the kitchen behind us.

Once in the tiny guest
bathroom, Jason took my wrist, spun and pinned me silently to the flocked
wallpaper. Our hands intertwined and I held him against me as hard as he held
me down. His breath touched my cheek, his lips moved against my skin when he
whispered.

“How are you holding up?”

“Better now.” I turned my
cheek into his mouth, forcing him to kiss me, and he complied, eventually
finding my mouth after I’d answered him.

“I tried to get here as soon
as I could. We had a tux fitting and then Jonathan dragged his feet the whole
way. I don’t think he wanted to come here.” I snorted softly.

“How awkward for him.”

“You guys need help?”

Jason leaned in for another
kiss when Bailey’s ill-timed interruption made him jerk back with a start.

“We’re fine,” I called into
the hallway and slipped out from his grasp. Jason immediately started rifling
under the sink and I sat on the edge of the tub to watch him. “How’s your
grandpa?”

“Angry. Probably about as
angry as you, most of the time. I made dinner for him last night and we talked
about seeds for an hour. An hour. Before yesterday everything I knew about
seeds I learned in eighth grade biology class. I’m smart but he blew me away.
Turns out Garton has a degree in Biology from the state university. My grandma
told him she wouldn’t marry an uneducated small town boy and grow old in the
middle of nowhere, so he went and got a degree in what he loved and built her a
house halfway between town and the middle of nowhere so they’d both be happy.
She married him and had six sons.” Jason straightened, arms full of towels and
cleaning supplies. “I had no idea.”

I smiled. “Wow, he must have
really loved her.”

“More than the whole world.”
He leaned against the sink. “I think that’s why he doesn’t want to sell the
farm. That house was for her.”

“When my grandfather bought
this place for my grandma, it was already old, but she loved every squeaky
floor bored, every leaky window. Now that she’s gone I can still feel her here
sometimes. I hear a squeak in the kitchen and expect to find her standing at
the big cast iron sink.” I ran my hand along the curved rim of the old
porcelain tub. “I understand his reluctance to leave her ghost behind. It’ll
break my heart all over again when I have to leave this house.”

“Why would you ever leave
it?”

I hesitated, the truth stuck
to the roof of my mouth. Losing my grandma’s house had been the catalyst for
taking a bat to Jonathan’s truck. It had been the source of many tears whenever
Jason wasn’t around to keep me from wallowing. I was reluctant to cross the
streams, but more importantly, it seemed like waste of time. He’d be gone by
the time I had to clear out anyway.

“This mess isn’t going to
clean itself.” Bailey reappeared in the doorway, hands on her hips, indignant
for no good reason. “Haul ass already.”

“Hey, the older siblings are
talking. Hold your horses.”

She made an exasperated
noise. “It will leave a
mark
.”

Oh. She meant, it would leave
a mark on
her
new kitchen floor.

“You’d have a stroke, Bailey,
if you knew how many times I’d tracked rain and mud through the kitchen without
bothering to take off my boots.”

“
Cassidy
.”

“
Bailey
.”

“Man, I am so glad I never
had sisters.” Jason shook his head and pushed off the sink.

Bailey stared at him and
didn’t exactly get out of the way when he came up on the door. Her brow
furrowed. “What would you two even have to talk about anyway?”

“Grown up stuff.” His
lopsided grin broadened when she scowled like an annoyed little sister. She
oofed
when he thrust the towels into her arms. “Here, since you’re in such a
hurry. Now run along back to your party.”

Bailey sized us both down
with a scathing look, but turned anyway and headed back to the kitchen with her
arms stretched wide around the supplies. The potential mark on her hardwood
floors was more pressing, apparently, than our sparring match.

I stood up. Jason settled his
hand across the small of my back as we maneuvered into the hallway. “I think
I’m the only other person who has ever told Bailey off. I think you’re my
hero.”

“I think you have low
standards.”

I grinned. “I’m just easy to
please.”

“Mmm.” He leaned down and
snuck a kiss and a gentle suck at the base of my neck. “Let’s kick everyone out
and get back to the pleasing part.”

My cheeks flushed as we
returned to the noise of the kitchen and living room. He released my back but
remained close for the next twenty minutes while we endured idle gossip. Only
once did things turn awkward and that was well into the third pitcher of
mimosa.

“I’d just like to make a
toast to the bride and groom,” Jonathan and Jason’s great aunt Kathy said loud
enough to settle the room into quieting down. She stood up from her seat at the
kitchen table and raised her Styrofoam cup. “You’re beautiful Bailey, you know
you are sweetheart. We’re terrible proud to welcome you into the family.”

The room lit up in cheers,
whistles, and cat calls, like a bunch of lecherous men on a street corner these
old ladies were. Bailey grinned and Jonathan kissed her cheek and even I
clapped. Jason gave me a nudge and his trademark smile and I shrugged, helpless
to get caught up in the warmth of the moment. The strength of my drink didn’t
hurt either.

Even I wasn’t immune to the
way Jonathan gazed at my sister. Bashful, like a teenager, blushing clear down
the back of his neck.

I knew he’d never gazed at me
like that.

Before the celebration
quieted down, great aunt Kathy raised her cup in the air one last time. “Now if
he can just keep his pecker in his pants we might actually make it down the
aisle this time!”

My mother flinched noticeably
and Francine drank the rest of her cup like a shot glass. Most of the room
laughed, only some had the decency to look nervous about it. Bailey lowered her
eyes to her feet and Jonathan involuntarily glanced my way. For the first time
since that day in the barn so many months ago, our eyes locked.

I felt it in my knees.
Everything lost sensation for those few seconds we stared at each other. I
couldn’t remember how many times we’d stared into each other’s eyes, but I
recognized how little they moved me. Blue, but not very blue, not like Jason’s.
Nothing fluttered. No excitement overtook my better self. For the two years we
dated, I realized, we’d had a perfectly nice relationship. Orderly to the point
of politeness.

When Jonathan tore his eyes
away from mine, I realized Jason had his arm tight across my back. He held me
against his side for support, not aggressively, and since everyone in the room
was doing their best to not look at me, no one seemed to notice.

When the toasting finished a
few minutes later and the ladies got down to the business of crafts once more,
I fled to the front porch to finish out the afternoon inebriated and confused.

###

The men showed up to collect
the King and Blue ladies at dusk, all of them wobbling and coated in a fine
layer of glitter that trailed behind them like snow. I scrunched myself in the
corner of the porch swing, knees up to my chest, and watched them all go,
taillights disappearing in clouds of dust. The sky was dark and rumbly. I was
certain it would rain during the night at least.

Jason begged off a ride home
from Jonathan by offering to help me clean up, then he’d walk home. If anyone
thought it was odd, they didn’t show it. I was grateful for the sound of the
dishwasher kicking on and the
wishwish
of the broom across the kitchen
floor. Emotionally I was as wrung out as a dirty dish rag.

The front door squealed open
and banged shut. Jason stood there for a moment and squealed it open and shut
again before checking the bent hinges.

“How long has this door been
broken? At least as long as I’ve been coming here.”

“Exactly as long, in fact.”

“You just need a couple of
new hinges, the door looks in good shape. It’d take you only a couple of
minutes to fix this.”

I winced. “Yeah, I’m not
really very good at fixing things.”

“What kind of farm girl are
you?” He swaggered over and I made room for him to sit on the swing opposite
me. He opened his hand for my foot and I stretched my legs into his lap. He
started massaging the balls of my feet with his thumbs.

“The terrible kind. I don’t
write code for social media apps and websites because I’m good with a tractor
and backhoe.”

He gave me a funny look. “I
had no idea that’s what you did for a living. Why didn’t I know that?”

“Because we have a rule about
talking.”

“Ah, that’s right. So what
are we doing right now?”

“Foreplay?”

“Of course. I thought that’s
what this was.”  He dragged his fingers down the middle of my foot and I
shivered. “Who do you end up doing work for then? I’m guessing not anyone
around here.”

“Most of the town still
thinks Facebook is some sort of black magic. My mom’s church knitting club once
had me come do a tutorial for them on texting and you’d have thought I was
teaching them to download pornography.” He laughed. “I do work mostly for
artists, authors, musicians, and some start-up companies without an IT or
marketing department of their own. All freelance, but there seems to be plenty
of work out there. I do ok.”

“I ask because I have some
friends in the city who need innovative builders on their marketing teams. I
could give them your name.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Too much. The way he looked
at me with since intensity was too much. How he inserted himself so easily into
my life was too much. I gently pulled my foot out of his hands and tightened my
knees to my chest. “You know, I think I’m kind of tired tonight. I just want to
crawl into a hot bath and then go to bed.”

Jason turned away, but I
could see the tightness in his jaw. I wanted him to say something, but was
relieved when he didn’t.

Finally he stood and bent to
kiss me, but I turned enough that he caught my cheek. If it upset him, he
didn’t show it.

“Sleep tight, Cassidy.”

I watched him head down the
road until the dusky darkness swallowed him up. I finally went inside, threw
the dirty towels from the spill into the wash, and trudged upstairs to start a
bath.

The next morning, when I woke
late after a fitful, restless sleep, I took the party trash outside in my
pajamas and slippers. I realized when I came back in that the screen door
didn’t squeal and there were new shiny hinges where the bent up ones had been
the night before.

11

____________

Three times. That was how
many nights I’d spent with Jason King between that night and the bachelorette
party. Three. In seven days. I counted.

And those three nights felt
rushed and crazed, like there wasn’t enough time left. We exploded like stars
leaving me exhausted and bruised the next morning.

Three times. He claimed he
had work to do at his grandfather’s place, but I suspected as the wedding grew
closer, now only a week away, the sooner he’d be leaving town. It seemed smart
to start sleeping alone again. Which, admittedly, I hated.

And I really hated it. Five
days and nights back to my normal routine of being alone in that creaky old
farmhouse. I felt restless and gloomy. I was beginning to realize the truth
that there’s no such thing as
just sex
and
no strings attached
.
Kissing someone, really kissing them, was an intimate and euphoric experience
and that left something behind every time it happened. A residue on your
spirit. When every night was spent in their arms, it was an inevitability that
losing it would hurt and you’d have to learn all over again how to be alone.