The Curvy Sister (A BBW Erotic Romance) Read Free Page B

rubbed
the water away from my arms. I didn’t stop him though his actions confused me.
Was he trying to be nice? Did he think I was an invalid who couldn’t even dry
herself off? He seemed preoccupied with his work so I didn’t answer him.
    “How long?” he asked quietly.
    “Excuse me?”
    “Since your grandma passed
away.”
    I scowled. Like salt in open
wounds, this one. I shoved his hands away and took the towel into my hands to
wipe my face and press ineffectually at my sopping hair that hung in dirty
blonde cords down my back.
    “Three years. She died three
years ago in January.”
    While I dried off, Jason slid
the stools out from the island and positioned them one in front of the other. I
watched, dully curious. Outside a flash of lightning preceded a crack of
thunder that shook the glasses in my cupboards.
    “Sit,” he instructed, a
demand but delivered gently. I slid onto the stool and he sat in the one
directly in front of me, our knees touching awkwardly. He unfolded the first
aid kit he’d stolen from beneath my bathroom sink. When he tried to take my
injured arm, I jerked away from him so hard I almost slid off my stool.
    “I’m not a child,” I
repeated. “You need to go home, Jason.”
    “Stop being obstinate. You
can’t bandage it with one hand.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk.
“Although it might be amusing to see you try.”
    I scowled and unfolded my arm
towards him so he could get a good look at the wound. It was positioned right
along the back of my forearm where I would have had a devil of a time trying to
see, let alone bandage, accurately. Conceding hurt.
    “You don’t seem to like me
much.” He wet a cotton ball with an antiseptic cleaner and began methodically
cleaning around the wound, making his way carefully towards the cut itself. I
tried not to look, each tender touch causing me to wince in pain.
    “I don’t even know you. Even
when you were here, you were never from here.”
    “What does that even mean?”
His blue eyes raised briefly to meet mine, his easy mirth almost as infuriating
as his help.
    I motioned with my free hand
towards the front door. “I know your reputation, Jason King. You were never a
small town boy.”
    In a flash of bright blue
light his mirth evaporated. His full mouth pulled into a frown, but I couldn’t
see his eyes.
    “I thought you said you
didn’t know me.”
    “I guess I know enough.” He
didn’t answer me and I wasn’t sure if that meant I was right or I was wrong.
    With the site cleaned, he
carefully applied ointment to a gauze pad, then taped it down like he’d done
this before and knew his way around a wound dressing. More evidence of a
careless, country youth. In the deep heat of summer, we all learned there was
nothing a good rinse with the garden hose couldn’t fix. Unless you were dead
and dying in a ditch, you’d live to fight another day. Only grandmas made sure
we did up the bandage right and that was only if she caught us in time. 
    “Jonathan was wrong,” Jason
said quietly after a long, stretched silence. “What he did to you. It wasn’t
right. I don’t doubt what he and Bailey have is love, but he should have been
straight with you. I told him that as soon as I heard what happened.”
    Jason’s voice, so sorry, so
full of pity, stabbed me right up under the rib cage. He pressed the bandage
tape in place and I flinched, harder than was necessary, and looked away to
hide the tears that pricked the corners of my eyes.
    “You have no right feeling
sorry for me,” I murmured into my shoulder. I didn’t want to watch him be nice
to me. “Not like you’re such a role model towards women.”
    He didn’t meet my eyes. “I’ve
made my mistakes, but I’ve never cheated on anyone before. There’s no excuse.”
    I squeezed my eyes shut real
tight and when I opened them again, all I saw was the Tiffany blue box on the
counter top, its puffy satin pillow peeking out. I could see the linen
invitation