21. You’re Just So Bulky
You’re Just So Bulky
Arlo
F uck my life, she is so pretty. No, not pretty. Pretty is too small a word. She’s extraordinary. Her caramel eyes catch the light and sparkle in a way that grips me, tortures me.
She’s watching the singer at the bar with rapt attention, but I’m watching her. I shouldn’t be, no, I should, because I’m playing the part of her doting man. What I shouldn’t be doing is actually fucking doting, but when she looks like that …
I knocked on her door a couple of hours ago for the date we had planned, and when she opened the door, I almost had a goddam heart attack.
I know she’s struggling with this. She’s not saying as much in person, but I see the toll it’s taking on her in the small smile she forces in place of her natural grin and the way she keeps on looking over her shoulder. And the pissy text messages she’s been sending.
We left things for a couple of days. I watched as she came and went in her uniform. I walked Beans and checked the cameras, then I called into her tiny department to ask her out where we could be overheard.
She smiled, said yes, then, as I walked away, the burner in my pocket vibrated, and I pulled it out.
Bree : Let me know what we’re doing so I can dress appropriately.
I shook my head, knowing she fucking hates this.
Me : We’re going to the bar. I thought it would be a surefire way to get the word out that we’re dating. So, dress like you’re on a date. Wear a dress so he knows you’re looking to get laid.
Bree : Wow, so romantic.
I rolled my eyes at the burner cell in my hand, then laughed at the absurdity of my situation.
Me : Well, nothing pisses a man off more than thinking his woman is looking to get dicked down by another man!
Or so I’m told. I’ve never been the jealous type, as I never had reason to be.
Bree : Oh, baby. With sweet words like that, I can’t wait.
Me : Cut the shit. Just be ready at seven.
Bree : Yes, sir!
Now we’re here, in the bar, and she is dressed like I’m looking to get laid. The black dress she’s wearing fits her body like it was sprayed on. Her defined figure is making my mouth water, and I am trying so fucking hard not to look at her tits, but they’re right here, and I was raised in a motorcycle club where not looking was frowned upon and caused offense.
‘He’s good,’ I say to distract myself from her cleavage as the singer finishes his song, and her eyes meet mine. Nodding, she agrees.
‘Yeah, he is.’
Her tone is clipped and cold, and I reach out to take her hand on the table. She flinches, and I circle my thumb over the soft skin of her wrist, feeling her pulse race.
‘Bree, you’ve got to relax,’ I say softly as a presence at the end of the table has us both turning our heads, her hand still in mine.
‘Mrs. Abernathy,’ Bree says, sounding surprised. ‘What are you doing in here?’
The older lady chuckles. ‘What, I can’t let my hair down?’
‘Oh, no, you can.’ Bree smiles wider. ‘You just don’t usually come to the bar.’
‘That’s my nephew.’ She points to the singer. ‘I haven’t seen him in years because he’s always traveling doing this, so I couldn’t miss the opportunity with him right here.’
‘We were just saying what a good singer he is,’ I say, and Mrs. Abernathy smiles at me. We’re acquainted. She made a point of showing up on my doorstep with a casserole when I arrived, so I returned the favor, showing up on hers with a home-baked pie.
‘Oh, Arlo, you’re so sweet.’ She grins, reaching out to pat my arm, and I see her attention graze over mine and Bree’s connected hands. ‘Oh, I’m interrupting.’ She beams, meeting Bree’s eye. ‘I’ll leave you both to it.’ Then she leans in close to me and says softly, ‘She’s a catch, honey, don’t blow it.’ And I know Bree heard when she slowly pulls her hand from mine and picks up her drink, and with a wink, Mrs. Abernathy walks away.
‘Come on, short stuff,’ I say brightly as I stand and hold out my hand. Bree’s eyes trail up my arm until they meet my eyes. ‘We’re dancing.’
I can’t help but notice the breath she takes before sliding her hand into mine and letting me help her out of the booth. On the dance floor, she turns to me, and I use my hand on her lower back to pull her body against mine as we start to move.
‘You’re taller tonight,’ I observe, noticing my mouth hovers just above her nose instead of her forehead.
‘That’s because I’m wearing these stupid ass shoes.’
She bends one leg behind her to show me her shoes, and I’m distracted by her smooth skin and muscular calf. Man, her legs are fantastic. She turns to face me as she lowers her leg, and I know she catches me looking, but she doesn’t say a word about it.
‘For someone so big, you’re a good dancer,’ she says as I turn us and pull back a little to look at her.
‘For someone so big?’
Smiling, she answers. ‘Yeah, look at you. You’re just so bulky.’
A loud laugh escapes me, and she smiles widely.
‘Bulky.’ I nod, letting the word sink in.
‘It’s good bulky,’ she adds to soften the blow, and I laugh again but a little softer. ‘What do you do to work out?’
‘Um, not much. I have a physical job, and I do weights at home. I’m not a gym bunny like you.’ I raise one eyebrow, and she rolls her eyes.
‘What about cardio?’
‘I walk Beans a lot. He needs a couple of good walks a day.’ I think about the other cardio activities I used to do but haven’t in a long time, and then I look down at the woman in my arms. Since I got out of prison, I’ve had a lot of sex, all of it casual. I have a few contacts I can call up for some release if I need to, and I have no trouble meeting women who are fine with no strings. These few weeks in Forest Falls have been the longest I’ve gone without sex in twelve years, but until now, I haven’t really thought about that.
‘Well, you look good, Arlo. I’m sure you know that, but I can’t pretend you don’t.’
‘You look good too, short stuff.’
I always loved that about Bree. She’s always been so open. That’s why what she did to me hurt so much.
‘Arlo,’ she says, pressing into me, causing her tits to push against my chest in a way that makes my dick jump to life in my jeans.
‘Yeah, Bree?’ I realize now that we aren’t dancing anymore. We’re standing still in the middle of the dance floor, me holding her body against mine, her lifting her chin so my mouth hovers just above hers.
‘People are watching us,’ she whispers before running her tongue across her bottom lip, making the soft pink lipstick she’s wearing shine under the bar lights, and I understand what she’s saying to me. We have an audience, so let’s put on a show.
Reaching up my hand, I grip her chin lightly between my thumb and forefinger, then take a breath and ready myself. I talk a big game. I’m the one pushing this cart to move faster and reminding her it’s not real, but when it comes to it, I want this woman the same way I always did, and kissing her is going to fuck me up. I know that. Still, I wet my bottom lip with my tongue, loving the way her eyes widen, and I lower as she pushes up, meeting me in the middle and taking the kiss I was about to give her.