Big Beautiful Little (2 page)

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he said.

“Nick…”

He stood suddenly and turned to her. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this except to just tell you. Tiffany, there’s somebody else.”

Somebody else
. For a moment the words didn’t register.
Somebody
else. Somebody else.

“Who?” The question came out in a whisper.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters!” She was off the bed now, trailing the sheet behind her. “I love you! If you’ve found somebody else, I want to know who! And why! After four years, don’t I deserve that?”

Nick looked away. “It’s Ruth Anne.”

“Ruth Anne? Ruth Anne Piner?” She repeated the name back to him in disbelief. “As in my best friend, Ruth Anne Piner?” Tears slipped down her face unbidden now.

“Come on, Tiffany! Can you blame me?” Nick threw his hands up in the air now as he began to walk around the room, gathering his things. “You can’t deny she’s attractive. I mean, hell. Look at her compared to…”

Tiffany pulled the sheet tighter around her body, so much fuller than her friend’s.

“Neither of us meant for this to happen but hell—we work at the same company, both got transferred at the same time… and Ruth Anne and I have more in common. We’re both really into the gym and you… what do you do? You sit around all day drawing pictures.”

“I’m a children’s book illustrator, Nick!” The tears were running down her face now.

“Well, that’s about perfect for you, isn’t it? You’ve got My Little Ponies all over your desk. You watch fucking cartoons on your lunch break. You have a fucking teddy bear in our bed! Even your voice is childish. Hell, Tiff, everything about you is childish except for your size.”

“That’s not fair.” Tiffany wiped away a tear with one shaking hand. “I know I’ve gained some weight, but…”

“Some? Jesus. You were a size four when we met. What are you now? A size fourteen?”

“I was a size six when we met. Now I’m a fucking size twelve, Nick!” Hurt turned to anger as she stared at him in disbelief. “No, I’m not a size two hard body like Ruth Anne, but do you realize I’m actually average by today’s standards?”

“By today’s standards,” Nick said. “See, that’s the problem. I don’t want ‘average by today’s standards.’ I’m a nationwide sales manager now. I have a fucking corner office in Fort Worth. I’m going to be taking the corporate jet all over the goddamned United States. My ship is coming in. Average? Fuck average! I want above average, not some… doodling fat chick with a little girl voice who gets off on being spanked like a kid. It’s time for me to set a new standard for my relationship, Tiff. Adults only.”

If he’d punched her in the stomach, it could not have hurt as badly. Even with the sheet wrapped around her middle, Tiffany suddenly felt exposed—and not just physically. She’d bared her soul to Nick, shared her need for submission, and now he was using it against her. She walked back over to the bed and sat down, pulling the sheet up against breasts that suddenly felt too plush. She was aware of her thighs, how they spread when she sat, the fullness of her bottom. She wanted to say something in her own defense, but couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth, ashamed now, too, of the high, childlike voice that had netted her side jobs doing voiceovers for children’s products.

“I’m sorry,” he was saying. “I didn’t want to tell you like this. And I shouldn’t have fucked you first. That was mean. But you were…”

“Here?” she asked, looking up with an expression of raw hurt. “Available?”

Nick picked up his t-shirt and pulled it on. “Yeah, something like that.” He stood awkwardly for a moment before turning to the door. “I’m going out for a beer. I’ll be back later to pack my things.”

He stalked out then and Tiffany felt herself wince as the apartment door slammed. Slowly, she sunk down onto the empty bed, watching the bedroom entrance, hoping against hope that he’d change his mind and come back in. But as the minutes passed, reality sank in. She’d thought things would be different with Nick. But now he was gone, too, and Tiffany was alone. Truly alone. Sure now that he wasn’t coming back, she reached for her teddy bear and pulled it to her. The sounds of her sobs—so much like a child’s—filled the room until she fell asleep.

Chapter Two: Thick Girl

Seattle, Washington, 2014

“Dude, are you even paying attention?” Trey Carter put down the free weight, the clang of it finally getting the attention of the man he was speaking to.

Lance Sawyer curled the barbell he was holding up to his chest as he turned to his friend. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m just trying to keep an eye on the front desk while I work out.”

Trey rolled his eyes and made an exasperated noise. “Lance, you’re the owner of this gym. Don’t you have people for that?”

“Yes.” Lance put down his weight. “But sometimes things come up, and it’s not like I’m going to force Melanie to come in when she has traffic court.”

“Okay, whatever, but back to what I was saying.” Trey picked up a towel and mopped the sheen of sweat from his ebony chest. “I have a date with Yvette tonight. We’re going dancing…” He began to gyrate his hips as he talked. “And I know she’s going to want to slow dance, because she digs it when I put my arms around her.” He flexed his bicep and kissed it. “But what lady wouldn’t want to be held by a cop with guns like these?”

“Yvette…” Lance ran through his mental list of his friend’s rotating roster of companions. “Is that the Hooter’s waitress or the former cheerleader?’

“Cheerleader. Major league, baby. And rockin’ a tight little body with a booty so hot you could fry an egg on it… hey! Where you goin’?”

“Up front.” Lance was walking away, pulling a faded blue Nike t-shirt over his muscular torso as he headed to the front of the gym. “Somebody’s coming in.”

“You’d better hurry,” Trey called, nodding toward the front. “Girl looks like she needs a gym
stat!
”

Lance glanced up. The woman coming through the door was not the average visitor to Summit Fitness, which sat in the middle of one of the city’s most health-conscious neighborhoods. He could see her looking around as she approached the reception desk, then stop. She was turning back toward the door when he called out to her.

“Hey, wait!” Lance started jogging across the room. The woman glanced back and walked toward the door even faster. “Hey! I said wait!”

The woman froze in her tracks and looked at him with large, soft eyes.

Submissive.
Lance was a man of strong instinct who almost always relied on his impressions. The woman’s ready compliance had gotten his attention as surely as he’d gotten hers.

“Did I scare you?” When he caught up with her, he reached out to take her arm gently, modifying his tone now that she was looking at him.

“No, you didn’t scare me,” she said, and then dropped her eyes shyly and shrugged. “Well, maybe a little.”

Lance couldn’t help but smile. She was unbelievably pretty, with strawberry blond hair, blue eyes, and porcelain skin. Her voice was high, almost musical, with a bit of a charming drawl.

“Welcome to Summit Fitness. I’m the owner, Lance Sawyer.” He held out his hand. Hers were tucked under arms she’d folded across her chest as soon as she’d stopped. She withdrew one now and placed it in his. The hand was soft, feminine. The grip he gave her was firm but not too tight. He allowed it to last a little longer than he would with most prospective female clients.

“Name?” he asked

“Oh.” She gave him a small smile. “Tiffany Barlow.”

He smiled back, teeth white in his tanned face. “Cute name.”

She flushed and looked down. “Yeah, it’s weird. Sorry.”

“You’re apologizing for your name?” Lance quirked a brow at her, then when she looked uncomfortable, he changed the subject. “I suppose you’re here to take advantage of our stellar facilities, am I right? You’re dressed for the gym and you have the newspaper ad offering a free trial.”

She looked down at the paper as she smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear, then adjusted the strap of the gym bag over her shoulder.
Thick, wavy hair,
he noticed with approval.
Thick and pretty, like her.

“Um… yes, sir.”

Yes, sir
. Some men would have corrected her, and told her such formality wasn’t necessary. But not Lance. He liked the way she said it.
Yes sir.
So did his cock. He shifted a little as it nudged the front of his shorts.

“Well, if you’ll come with me, I have some forms you can fill out before I give you the grand tour.” He took her elbow and she walked with him to a small room off to the side of the reception area. There was a table in the center with a chair on either side. Lance pulled a chair out. Tiffany Barlow looked at him as if surprised by the gesture and sat down, placing her gym bag at her feet and her purse on the back of the chair. He took the chair across from her and turned a clipboard in the center of the table so that it was facing in her direction.

“Just a little background about Summit Fitness,” he began. “I’m the owner-operator, so it’s a locally owned business and not a chain. I’m ex-military, which some people like and some people don’t, but I believe in keeping order here. I try to keep this a safe place for working out—drama free. In addition to regularly maintained free weights and equipment we have a pool, exercise classes, an on-site nutritionist, and a personal trainer option. Any questions?”

She shook her head. “No, sir.”

He smiled, charmed, and handed her a clipboard with the forms.

“The first form is just personal information—phone, address, emergency contact.” He handed her a pen and watched as she carefully filled it out. Her script, like her, was lush and feminine.

“Down here is where you put in your credit card information,” he said when she’d finished the first part. “Now, you won’t be charged unless you decide you want to join at the end of the trial period. If you do want to join today after getting a tour of the gym, you get the first three months for thirty percent off, so that’s like getting a month for free.”

Lance looked up to make sure she was listening. He noticed her large eyes again, framed by those impossibly long lashes.

“Lord, you have some beautiful eyes,” he said. He’d not meant to, but the color was so striking—an aquamarine color. The words just tumbled out.

She looked at him, her expression surprised and then suddenly wounded.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” she said quietly.

“Do what?”

“Flirt with the fat girl to get her business.” She put the pen aside. “I knew this was stupid. I’m sorry I wasted your time, Mr. Sawyer.”

She stood, and he stood, too. “Whoa, hold up,” he said, taken aback by the pretty vulnerable redhead with skin he wanted to touch and curves he wanted to…

Focus, Sawyer
.

“You think I was hitting on you just now to get your business?” he asked. He couldn’t keep the indignation out of his voice. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” she said. He could see the anger in her eyes, anger that barely hid the pain behind it. This girl had been hurt once. Hurt bad.

“Hey, listen.” He tried to keep his voice gentle. “If that’s the impression you got, let me assure you…”

“Yeah, right.” She’d stopped listening and snatched her purse off the back of the chair as she headed for the exit.

Lance knew it wouldn’t be any use to try to stop her again without seeming too heavy-handed. He stood at the edge of the reception area, watching Tiffany Barlow’s round hips sway as she walked quickly down the steps to the parking lot. He continued to watch as she got into a blue Toyota 4Runner with a cartoon pony decal stuck on the back. She didn’t look at him as she drove past.

Shit. Lance wanted to hit something, preferably whoever had damaged the pretty redhead to the point that she couldn’t take a compliment. But he also wanted to punch himself. His timing sure could have been better.

Big lug.

“My man!” Trey was coming out of the gym, laughing. “I can’t believe you let that one get away! If anybody ever needed a workout…”

“Can it, Trey!” Lance growled, rounding on his friend. He was in no mood for joking, especially about the weight of an adorable girl obviously sensitive to the topic. He stalked back toward his office, knowing that he’d find his best friend behind him when he turned around. He was right.

“You’re right.” Trey had his hands up as if calling for a truce. “That was low. And I know you aren’t like me. I know you like those thick girls.”

“Yes, I do,” Lance said. “I do like those thick girls.”

“So what happened?”

“Somebody got to her before I did, apparently. Somebody who obviously
didn’t
appreciate her.” He walked into his office at the end of the hallway behind the reception area and headed for the mini fridge, where he pulled out two energy drinks. He tossed one to Trey, who caught it.

“Don’t shut the door,” Lance told his friend. “I still need to keep an eye on the desk.”

“So what the hell happened?” Trey asked.

Lance plopped down in the chair and ran a hand through his thick black hair. He shook his head as he popped the top on the can. “I did something stupid.”

“What?”

“I complimented her right after asking for her card information.”

Trey’s eyes widened. “Aaaahhh. Okay, okay. I gotcha. And she thought you were trying to butter her up for a full membership.”

“Basically.”

Trey cocked his head. “Were you?”

“Of course not.” Lance’s gray eyes narrowed in irritation. “I was being sincere. Are you trying to piss me off?”

“Nah.” His friend sat back in the chair opposite Lance. “I just still don’t get you, man. A whole stream of hard bodies coming in here day after day—all but begging you to get that pussy—and you never look twice at them. But when we go out your eyes always be following those chubby ladies. But even so, I ain’t never seen you run after one like you did today. Hell, I don’t think I ever even saw you run after Katrina, and I know you didn’t want her to go, either.”