Big Meat (A Recipe of Love Book 2)

by Paige Conners

  “Yeah no hot dogs, no deli meat, and no predator fish that’s high in mercury. If I heat the deli meat up until it’s steaming I can eat it then, but nothing cold. I also can’t have any feta, bleu cheese, or any other unpasteurized cheese. Nothing raw either so no sushi until after I evict the womb squatter.” Joe walks up behind Frankie and starts rubbing her shoulders, I try to ignore the jealousy that shoots through me at the sight.

  I would love to be able to casually touch Lindsay like that, not only that but the idea of her carrying my child is my dream. I come from a massive family, my parents couldn’t have any more children after me, but the rest of my family is rather prolific. I’ve been raised on the idea of getting married and having tons of babies, I would gladly give up that dream if it meant I had Lindsay. She’s always been close lipped on the subject of kids, I have no idea if she wants some or not.

  “What is going on with your dad Anthony? How can we help?” Now that she’s worked her way through the anxiety, Frankie is ready to figure out what needs to be done. I am so incredibly proud of how she refuses to let her anxiety keep her prisoner. As I start explaining about how he has to have a total lifestyle change, I feel tiny cold fingers on my neck. Instead of reaching up and touching her hands, which might startle her into stopping, I allow her to use my neck to warm her fingers up, at least that’s the excuse I’m sure she will use.

  “Joe, would your mom be willing to hire on as my dad’s personal chef for a bit? I’ll get the details from the nutritionist, and she can come up with food that’s healthy but still good for him. I’m not going to have time to handle the food. I can switch gyms and drag him with me, so it won’t add any extra time to my schedule but all the research and substitution and testing just aren’t possible.” I neglect to mention that my dad is more likely to eat food a pretty woman makes him. My dad hasn’t been in a relationship since my mom died, I know he’s not a saint though and is a big fan of feminine beauty to put it politely.

  “Yeah, I’ll talk to her, but I think she won’t have an issue with it. She’s helping out at the Pub, but doesn’t want to take a full-time position. Does your dad live in the city? She’s staying at my old apartment for now. So, if she’s going to have to commute everyday, we might need to work something out, especially if this crazy weather keeps up.” Joe answers as he sits down and pulls Frankie into his lap, where she curls up and cuddles in.

  “Yeah, he still lives in the house a couple blocks from here, where I grew up. I don’t see it being an issue of her walking over, but if it is we can work something out.” Joe nods at me and then must see Lindsay’s fingers on my neck, instead of just standing behind me, because he smirks and raises a single eyebrow at her.

  “Frankie, Joe is misusing his eyebrow again! Can I go get a wax strip?” Lindsay digs her fingernails into my shoulders as she leans over me to the side. I look up and see she is smiling her evil vicious grin, there has to be something wrong with me that it sends a jolt straight to my cock. I adjust the pile of clothes Frankie had given me to make sure if I do sprout wood no one can see. The clothes make me realize that from the knees down I’m still wet and cold, which means in turn Lindsay must be as well. I’m much better suited to cold temperatures than she is. Her personality is so big, it’s sometimes hard to remember how small and fragile she actually is.

  “You must be cold, let’s go upstairs so you can get out of those wet pants.” I stand up and hold my hand out for her to go ahead of me to the stairs. I give her and Frankie a few minutes to get their giggles out of the way after what I said. When you have friends who have the maturity level of a twelve-year-old boy you learn to be patient with their amusement.

  “Seriously, you need some new lines Anthony. I don’t know…” I look over my shoulder to see Joe covering Frankie’s mouth with his hand and whispering in her ear. I give him a head nod in thanks and ignore the widening of Frankie’s eyes. I turn back around and follow Lindsay’s tiny toned ass up the stairs to her place. I absently find myself wondering how many squats a day she does to keep it so tight.

  As soon as we walk through her door, she’s making her way to the coffee machine. I don’t know how she can drink coffee this late at night and still sleep. I glance at my watch and see it’s only 9 pm, it seems much later with the sun going down around 5:30 and everything we’ve done since leaving the hospital. I leave her to her own devices and walk through the living room towards the bathroom to change my pants.

  Lindsay’s apartment is set up like Frankie’s in that it’s a long open floor plan with the kitchen first, then the living room area. On the far side of the living room, there’s a hallway stretching to the back wall of the building and Lindsay’s bedroom. I duck in the first door on the left in the hallway which is the bathroom. I laugh looking around and I remember when Lindsay and Frankie both remodeled a few years ago.

  Lindsay’s bathroom is a piece of hedonistic artwork now. She expanded the bathroom stealing footage from what used to be a spare bedroom to make it a massive dream oasis. When you first walk in the room directly in front of you is the glass encased shower stall with its rainfall showerhead, a few feet away from it under a window is a six foot long freestanding whirlpool bathtub. I eventually won the fight over the window in here, the glass is special frosted glass that won’t allow anyone to see in, with two narrow windows on the side that open with a crank so they only open a few inches. To the right of the door is the long counter with the sink, then the toilet on the far wall. The door that opens into Lindsay’s bedroom is between the bathtub and the toilet.

  The back and left wall have dove gray subway tiles covering them, with bright white grout. The floors are special tile that looks like it’s dark almost black wood but will be able to stand the water and humidity better. The wall behind the mirror and the toilet is painted a pale gray so that the entire room is in gray scale. There’s a set of shelves propped in the corner by the tub that looks like an old ladder. It has some potted plant on the top shelf, the green vines dripping down the sides surrounding fluffy towels. Somehow that one set of shelves adds enough warmth to the whole room keeping it from feeling sterile.

  I go back through the living room, with its two oversized side chairs and big comfy couch facing a flat screen television mounted over a gas fireplace. Lindsay changed while I did and is sitting on the couch perched with one foot up and her chin on her knee watching a special news conference. I gaze in surprise as they declare all of Philadelphia County a state of emergency due to the continued and expected snow accumulation. Only emergency and news personnel are allowed on the roads from now until the emergency is declared over. I look at Lindsay’s comfy but too short couch and barely bite back my groan at how my back will feel in the morning.

  “So can I crash on your couch for the night or are you kicking me out into the cold with no way to get home?”

  5

  Lindsay

  I jump at the sound of his voice. Seriously, how in the fuck does a man his size move that quietly? It’s unnatural. He’s 6’6”, well over 250 pounds, and can sneak into a room and you never hear him coming. I’ll figure out a way to bell the mother fucker someday.

  “I wouldn’t kick you out into the cold. I don’t hate you. Don’t act so innocent, though, I bet there’s plenty of willing women nearby that would be willing to fight to have you in their beds tonight.” Ignoring the feeling that annoying thought causes, I move to the counter where the machine that I worship lives. Coffee is the only addiction I permit myself to have, so I have completely dedicated myself to it.

  “Lindsay when was the last time I dated anybody?” I really should have gone with an island like Frankie has, that didn’t make sense at the time since I don’t cook and we all gather at her place since she does. Instead, I used the extra square footage for my living room, now I have nothing to stop Anthony from coming up behind me. I should have known better, though, he comes in from the side so that he’s not directly behind me.

  “I asked you a qu
estion, Gattina,” he asks calmly leaning back against the counter beside me. The position pulls his shirt tight across his chest showing how firm his muscles are. My eyes flash up to his face in a heartbeat, Anthony is many things but he’s never been a tease before. I didn’t think the obvious posing and posturing where his style. When I clash eyes with him though I realize, he truly isn’t playing a game trying to use his glorious body against me. He is frowning at me slightly, clearly agitated by my comment about other women.

  “I don’t have your social calendar synced with my phone, the last serious one I remember was years ago.” I turn my head and use the excuse of grabbing a mug from my cupboard to give me a moment to get my feelings back under control. It’s not his fault that I’m jealous of all the women who probably fawn all over him. For all that I pick on him for being a big bear, his look is exactly in right now, I don’t think he even knows or cares. His hair cut for instance, I know he only has it because Frankie told him he needed to grow his hair out since he looked like a serial killer with it buzzed off, so he made her pick out what to do with it.

  “There hasn’t been anyone since then Lindsay. I can’t do the casual thing. I’m just not that guy. Other than the guys from the gym, I’m pretty sure you know everyone in my life. I sure as fuck don’t have a social calendar.” Pouring my coffee on auto pilot, I digest his words looking for any kind of trick or trap. I watch Anthony open my fridge and grab a beer, he proceeds to turn a pop off top into a twist off somehow. I straighten my invisible Crown of Denial when I realize the beer he grabbed is his brand that I always make sure I have on hand just in case.

  I cradle my overly large cup of coffee like the treasure it is as I make my way back to the living room and perch on the couch again. I look at the special news report about the state of emergency, and how the city is being shut down. I guess it worked out that Anthony decided he needed to go with me on my excursion tonight, if he had gone straight home he might not be able to visit his dad or get to the shop tomorrow.

  “No smart comeback Lindsay?” Anthony sits at the end of the couch facing me, being careful to make sure he’s close but not too close to me. To my shame I feel the tears start to burn again, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold them back this time. I shake my head and take another sip of my coffee ignoring how my hands are shaking.

  Anthony reaches out and carefully takes my coffee cup in one of his big over sized hands, the mug that I need two hands to hold, he makes look like an espresso cup. After carefully setting the cup on the coffee table he slowly reaches up and cups my jaw tilting my face to look at him. I desperately want to close my eyes and can’t. I watch pain ghost through his eyes and feel guilty. It’s his father who is in the hospital. I should be the one taking care of him.

  “Please come here Lindsay. I don’t have Boomer or my teddy bear and I could really use a hug right now. You were okay with hugging me earlier, what if I just put one arm around you but you held me? Would that be okay?” Now that he’s put it so that I’m doing this for him I’m able to talk myself into being able to inch closer to him. I nod my head while I scoot closer and he puts his arm up for me to snuggle under. I put my head on his chest and wrap my arms around his waist. I feel his beard ghost across the side of my head and swear he just kissed the top of my head.

  “What can I do to help you, Anthony? I think we covered the checklist about your dad and his lifestyle change he’s going to need to do. Is there anything else you need me to take care of for you?” I close my eyes and listen to the sound of his heartbeat under my ear. I feel so incredibly tiny like this, my head doesn’t even come to his shoulder and I already know from previous experience my feet can’t reach the floor if I sit back the whole way. Most people underestimate the problems of short people, let me, tell you; the struggle is real.

  “I just want to relax right now. I think we have everything covered. Thank you, Lindsay,” he answers while he easily snags the coffee table with his foot and pulls the entire table closer to us. Even his feet are massive, I don’t know why I expected anything different. He crosses them on the coffee table getting comfy, and I attempt to mimic him just so he will laugh over the size comparison. Where the coffee table is, I can’t even reach it with my feet. Anthony pulls it closer so that it’s only a few inches from the couch while I feel him vibrating with laughter.

  I cross my ankles and the sight of our feet close to each other is even funnier, I think his feet might legit be twice the size of mine. Not only that, he has on plain black cotton socks, mine on the other hand, are knit socks using yarn my friend hand dyed for me. They’re incredibly soft, and an explosion of neon colors on a white background.

  “Push the table back and on the side of the couch is a little circle, it’s fully reclinable.” Still giggling from the sight of our feet together, I turn so that I can curl my feet up on the couch and settle down onto my hip with my head more solidly on Anthony’s chest. The position is a much better one for me and my PTSD because it lets me keep my back solidly against the back of the couch. The position I’m in combined with the plushness of the couch means my back is protected. He manages to push the table back where it was without kicking it over like I would have, before extending the foot of the couch.

  I see Duchess creep out the hallway and jump onto the back of one of the chairs. When I went to the shelter she was all loving and affectionate. I fell in love with her silver and gray tabby coat, I also liked that she wasn’t a tiny kitten and yet wasn’t too old. When I got her back to my apartment, she instantly turned regal on my ass. She gave you attention when she wanted to, the same with affection. As long as I keep her litter pan clean, and the food and water dishes full, we get along fine. I bought her a bed and a bunch of toys, but playing with toys is beneath her and why would she want to sleep in her pet bed, when she can sleep on my pillow. After watching me for a few minutes I can practically feel her disdain for me allowing a man in her territory before she heads back to my bedroom.

  “I didn’t know this was reclinable. Why does a tiny thing like you need a recliner?" Anthony asks as he settles down more into the couch with it reclining back.

  “Hush, no short jokes. Besides, when I bought it, I knew there would be people using it besides just me and I wanted everyone to be comfy. Also, I wanted to be able to put my feet up, you saw what that normally requires, so with the recliner, I can slump down more.” I pinch his side as I grab the throw from the back of the couch and pull it over myself. I use my feet to grab the other one at the end of the couch and kick it up to my hands. I shake it out and throw it over Anthony’s legs before sighing in comfort.

  Anthony, being a man, of course has found the remote in the drawer of the end table next to the couch. Luckily for me, he puts it on one of the twenty-four hour news stations that’s reporting on the storm as it treks up the East Coast. I’m hoping there are some of the gems that happen during storm reporting, such as the shirtless joggers that always seem to show up, or maybe there will be a random snowball fight again. Now that we’re warm and cozy I pull out my phone, after going through all my messages and replying to emails that couldn’t wait, I pulled up the photos I took and started comparing them to decide which to post tonight.

  “That one,” Anthony softly states and runs his hand down my side leaving it resting on my hip. The picture in question is one of a tree that looks like the branches are arms reaching to the sky to catch the snow as it falls. I quickly pull it up in one of the photo editing apps I have and make it black and white before bumping up the contrast, then post it on all of my social media sites.

  “Can you plug this in?” I ask handing Anthony my phone. “Just use one of the chargers inside the drawer. You can plug yours in too if you want.” I watch as he pulls his phone out of his pants pocket and plug it in on one of the chargers. He doesn’t even check his notifications. “You’re not going to check your notifications?” I ask half amazed and half aghast.

  “I don’t have any. I don’t have any socia
l media apps to get notifications from. I didn’t hear it beep so nobody texted or called me.” I stare in complete amazement at him trying to process his words. Who in this day and age doesn’t have any type of social media on their phone? We’re all addicted to knowing everything now, needing to be able to share everything as far and fast as we can. My entire life revolves around my phone. I almost had a nervous breakdown when it randomly stopped working a few months ago. That was even with knowing I had other devices with everything backed up on them.

  I settle back into Anthony’s side. Now that I don’t have anything to distract me I can feel my skin start to crawl. I can’t explain it to anyone without hurting their feelings, so I don’t even bother trying. As soon as they hear that they make my skin crawl, they assume it’s with disgust or a negative thing and ghost on me. Even Frankie can sometimes make it happen but she’s the last person I would ever tell, I know it would crush her. It’s like the hair on the back of your neck standing up; it’s completely involuntary, something about adrenaline. I had it fully explained to me by the nice lady who lead the last study I was in, she couldn’t tell me what to do to make it stop and go away so I stopped listening to her.

  Anthony must have felt my body stiffen up. He lifts his arm and lays it along the top of the couch instead of across my back like it was. I relax again and listen to his heart thudding while I watch the coverage of the storm. No matter how many times I’ve spent time with Anthony, I will never get used to how he doesn’t need to fill the air with noise. He doesn’t shift around, he doesn’t hum or make any other weird little noises. If I closed my eyes, the only sign he’s in my apartment, is the steady beating of his heart under my ear.