Loving Lily

Evernight Publishing

www
.
evernightpublishing
.
com

Copyright© 2013 Marie E.
 
Blossom

 
ISBN: 978-1-77130-456-6

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: JS Cook

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal.
  
No part of
this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction.
 
All names, characters, and places are
fictitious.
 
Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
 

DEDICATION

For my husband.
 
Thank you
for teaching me what it feels like to be romanced.

LOVING LILY

Marie E.
 
Blossom

Copyright
© 2013

Chapter One

Lily stared at
the enormous bra the lingerie lady held out to her.

"Really, I
don't think my boobs
are that
big," she said,
trying to edge away from the outstretched hands.
 
The woman stepped closer.

"Honey,
you really should just try it.
 
You told
me you couldn't figure out why your bras were always uncomfortable.
 
This is why.
" She
held up the lace and elastic as though it were a flag.
 
"You've been wearing ones that are too
small
. "
The silver haired woman smiled kindly.
 
"Trust me.
 
You'll be a lot happier in this bra.
 
It's really pretty, too!" The lights of
the dressing room made the tiny gems sewn into the bra’s center seam sparkle.

Lily reluctantly
took the purple satin from the woman.
 
It
was
pretty, but she didn't care.
 
She didn't want to try it on.
 
It looked like something made for a hippo.
 
"I'm not making any promises," she
said reluctantly, frowning down at the bra.

"Trust me.
 
You'll look good in it.
 
You have a nice bosom, why not show it
off?"

“Because men
already have a tendency to miss my face and talk directly to my chest,” she
muttered under her breath.
 
The old woman
smiled kindly at her and Lily knew she hadn’t heard.

“It can’t hurt
to try it,” the woman urged.

Lily tried not
to shudder as the lady closed the fitting room door.

Five minutes
later, she scowled at herself in the mirror.
 
"Fuck," she said, then clapped her
hand over her mouth.
 
She'd been trying
to cut down on the cursing, but every time something bad happened, the f-word
slipped out.

And this
qualifies as a mini-disaster
, she told herself.
 
The bra fit.
 
It looked fantastic, in fact.
 
It was comfortable and her breasts were
contained in a way that proved she actually did have a waist.

"Dammit,"
she muttered, turning to look at her back in the mirror.
 
She held her wavy brown hair off her shoulders
and glared at her reflection.
 
Even the
rear view was lovely: no bulging flesh, no side-boobs.
 
She let her hair fall down and sighed.
 
She could never decide if she hated her body
or loved it.
 
She wasn't skinny by any
stretch of the imagination, but she wasn't huge, either.
 
She had a small waist, but it was usually
hidden because she had to buy clothes that fit both her top and her bottom.
 
And because her breasts were rather generous,
the standard clothing sizes that worked usually made her look like she had no
shape.
 
Fortunately or unfortunately,
depending on how she looked at it, her curvy ass balanced the ridiculous size
of her breasts rather well.
 
She looked
okay naked, but as soon as she put on a blouse or a sweater, all her confidence
went out the window.

If I could
live somewhere long enough to find a seamstress who could alter my clothes, I'd
probably look great
, she thought, not for the first
time.
 
She laughed at herself.
 
She knew even if that were true, she wouldn't
bother.
 
She just didn't care enough to
settle down.
 
She hadn't cared since her
husband Jack died three years ago.

****

"For God's
sake Matt, you need to get out of your house sometimes and talk to people.
 
You're going to rot up on that mountain.
 
We'll find your body in your foyer someday,
desiccated and pathetic. "

Matt sighed
loudly.
 
"Stephanie, I'm sitting in
a park with you right now.
 
We're
surrounded by people. "

His sister
sniffed as she watched her five-year-old twin girls run up the jungle gym steps
so they could go down the slide again.
 
"That’s only because I dragged you out
today.
 
You're a hermit.
 
Admit it. "

"I have
work
to do.
 
I’m just
about to finish up the edits on my latest novel.
 
I do have deadlines, you know.
 
And I like being alone," Mat said
absently, smiling as his little niece Keri shrieked on her way down.
 
Her sister, Annie, swooped down right after,
landing on top of her.
 
Keri pushed her
off with a disgusted look, and then the two were off again.
 
"They never seem to get tired of the
slide, do they?"

Stephanie
leaned back against the bench, hands twirling the seeded dandelion her
daughters had given her just a few minutes ago.
 
"Oh, they will.
 
And then we'll be pushing them on the swings
for about three hours. "

Matt
grinned,
glad he'd managed to deflect his sister's nagging.
 
He liked his house.
 
He liked being alone.
 
He liked writing the novels that paid his
bills.
 
"I don't mind.
 
They're sweet. "

Stephanie gave
him a look.
 
"Sweet.
 
Uh-huh.
" She
smiled grimly and turned to him.
 
"I
need a babysitter for Friday night
. "

Matt backed
away, almost falling off the bench.
 
"Oh no.
 
No way.
 
The last time you roped me into babysitting
alone I ended up at the clinic with them. "

Stephanie
rolled her eyes.
 
"How can a Navy
SEAL be such a wuss?"

"Ex-Navy SEAL.
 
I haven't been in the military in ten
years," Matt reminded her.

She mouthed
whatever
at him and waved her hands belligerently.

He crossed his
arms, not about to be taken in by her.
 
How his little sister managed to annoy him so
much, he had no idea.
 
She was thirty,
thirteen years younger than him, and they hadn't even really grown up together,
but she still drove him mad.
 
"And seriously.
 
I needed stitches, remember? They maimed
me," he said, disgusted just thinking about it.

His sister
laughed.
 
"You were the one who let
them play outside with those sticks.
 
I
hope you learned your lesson.
 
You’re
supposed to be the one who rescues people.
 
You’re not supposed to need rescuing.
 
From two tiny little girls.
" Stephanie’s
whole face was alight with glee.

He coughed,
trying to cover up his sudden embarrassment.
 
That episode with the girls wasn’t his finest hour.
 
"Yeah, I learned all right,” he
said grimly.
 
“Don't let little girls
pretend they're pirates using sticks as their swords.
 
I figured that out real quick.
" He
ran a finger over his right forearm where the scar
from that particular lapse of judgment resided.

His sister
rolled her eyes at his tone.
 
"Oh
please, you were fine.
 
It was just a
little blood. "

He stared at
her.
 
"I had to take them to the
clinic with me
. "

She looked
back, nonchalant.
 
"So?"