Big Meat (A Recipe of Love Book 2)

by Paige Conners

  When I get to 9th street, I see a crowd outside of Macellaio Meats and hurry up wondering what’s wrong. As I wind my way through the small group of twenty or so people, I try to figure out what in the hell is going on. I’m even more confused when I get inside because I see people lined up all around the shop waiting. I will admit the service is kinda slow here due to how everyone chats like they’re family, but this is insanity. One of the guys who knows me waves me over to one of the counters while shouting, “Lindsay’s here Anthony!”.

  I freeze in place as Anthony storms out of the back straight to the counter. He holds his hands out to me and I stare at him in confusion. “Come here Lindsay and I’ll pick you up over the counter!” He shakes his hands in emphasis of his point.

  “I’ll come in the back with you if she won’t! Besides why would you want the bone when you can have the meat?" exclaims the woman to my right. With one sentence she manages to piss me right the fuck off, it’s one thing to be proud of your body and who you are, but it’s another to put someone else down to do it. I think all women are beautiful, I would yell at anyone who tries to body shame someone for being thick, curvy or big. Yet it’s somehow okay for someone to tell me I need to eat more, that I look anorexic and need a cheeseburger. I turn to glare at her and inform her of this when Anthony leans over and grabs my waist in both hands.

  “Hold onto my shoulders babe. Here we go!” he says as he picks me up and over the counter like I weigh nothing. As soon as my feet hit the ground he pulls his hands back and gestures for me to go into the back. As I head to the back, I miss the casual touches I’ve gotten used to in the past. Today there was no lingering caress, he didn’t put his hand at the base of my spine, he didn’t even run a finger down my arm like he normally does.

  “What in the hell is going on out there?” I whirl and question him the minute we walk through the door. Instead of answering me Anthony heads towards his office forcing me to chase after him to catch up. Long legged bastard needs to remember not all of us are fucking giants. As soon as I get through the door, he slams it shut.

  “You tell me what the fuck is going on, Lindsay! All these women just started showing up today. They apparently were asking about me so one of the front shop guys told them I only did custom orders. Apparently they all decided they need custom orders at that point. Instead of running back and forth like a fucking idiot I stayed out front and had to actually talk with customers, Lindsay!” He’s pacing back and forth behind his desk and I can see how agitated he is. I need him to calm down so I can figure out what the hell he’s talking about, though.

  “Okay. So why is this somehow my fault?” I ask quietly, for once I’m trying not to poke the bear. Apparently it doesn’t matter how quiet I am, the bear is out in force, I decide as he stops his pacing to stare at me as if trying to determine if I’m telling the truth.

  “Did you get a picture of me put on some buzz website?” He demands while still staring at me intently like he can determine my truthfulness visually. I don’t want to insult him or disappoint him by telling him I could lie straight to his face and not show any reaction. I would hate to do it, but I could, thankfully I don’t need to lie to him.

  “Wait, what?! No, you don’t put the photos on there, the authors for the site do!” I grab my phone and start searching and let out a happy squeal and shake my booty obnoxiously at what I find. I immediately share the article to all of my personal social media as well as posting a tasteful thank you to the site on the shop’s.

  “Lindsay explain what the hell is going on and why it’s making you happy!” Anthony breaks into my happy bubble with his demands. I’m truthfully not sure how he will take what I’m about to explain. He’s one of the least self-aware people I have ever met in my life, most guys that are as hot as he is know it and have egos big enough they should have to get special hats made. Joe for instance, he is ridiculously hot and he knows it. If this were him, he would be ecstatic.

  “Ok, basically what happened is an author for the site wanted to make a list of hot guys with beards. They went to Instagram and searched for hot guys with beards and then put them all together in one post. They found the picture of you I posted the other week when you were leaning on the counter and put you on the list. I’m guessing all the women out front saw it and wanted to come meet you in person! Congratulations! Anthony, you just went viral!”

  “Well get me a fucking antiviral then! I don’t want to be viral! I want to be left alone!” Anthony explodes before stomping to the wall and leaning his head against it. It sounds like he is using deep-breathing techniques.

  “I can’t kill it Anthony, and I don’t know why you would want me to. This will increase business, and that’s always a good thing right?” I question as I walk near him. I feel like there’s something I’m missing here, he shouldn’t be this upset over having to work a day out front. He’s had to here and there since his Dad’s heart attack and never reacts like this. He even hired some new people and switched people around so that it’s never just him handling the orders for restaurants now. If they get done early, it gives him time to help out and visit his Dad, or to make more sausages and stuff that are custom made and take longer to produce.

  “You don’t understand Lindsay. They’re so incredibly…" He trails off shaking his head. I move closer worried that there’s a real issue here that we need to address. They’re just a bunch of women, surely they can’t be that bad. “Half of them are stupid and the other half if they were men someone would be running background checks and trying to prove they were sex offenders or worse.”

  I start giggling at his statement and the look on his face. “Surely...they couldn’t...be that bad,” I gasp out between laughs. Anthony whirls to face me anger making his eyes blaze and the veins on his neck stand out.

  “Hellcat, I had at least twenty women today tell me they wanted my big meat. Considering you’re who responds to all the social media crap, you should know that a lovely nineteen-year-old girl knows from the replies you send her that we’re meant to be together forever. She’ll wait for me, but if we’re going to have the ten children she knows I secretly want with her we might want to get started on that soon.” He shot me an angry glare at this. I shrugged and tried to mentally review any frequent commenters in the right age range so I can make sure she’s truly not a threat.

  “I had a woman offer to buy me a car, bike or whatever toy’ I wanted if I agreed she was my Sugar GlamMa. I had a woman ask me to sign her arm, I thought nothing of it until Andy called me asking if I was cool with him tattooing it for her! I told him hell no, but she ran out before he could wash it off for me, so you know she just went to another shop where the owner doesn’t know me. I’ve been called Stud, Hunk, Baby, Sweetheart and Honey more times that I ever have in my life, and I attended Mass at the same church my entire life where the older women don’t bother learning your name until you’re 25 and they’re sure you’re not destined for jail! I’m glad I was behind the counter at least because based on how much they touched me, without my permission I might add, I don’t think they would have had a problem grabbing my junk. I’ve been asked repeatedly about my sausage all day, and I know they’re not talking about salami!” I stiffen when he talks about them touching him, I don’t care who you are and what you do no one should be allowed to touch you without your permission.

  “And that’s still not the worst of it, Lindsay. I had a woman come in and flirt with me until I told her we didn’t have grass fed chicken. She argued with me for twenty minutes telling me I was horrible and didn’t know what I was talking about when I explained chickens don’t eat grass!” I give up trying to keep a straight face and just sit on the floor laughing hysterically.

  “I’m sorry honey. You’re right no one should touch you without your permission. I won’t post anymore pictures of you. Hopefully, people will forget about you in a few weeks. I can come in and work with you tomorrow and protect your virtue if you want.” I half jested. I couldn’t
admit to myself how much it bothered me that women were touching him and petting him like he was a pet.

  “I know you’re joking, but I don’t care. You caused this so yes you will come in and work here tomorrow and protect my sweet ass and my big meat!”

  9

  Lindsay

  Bitches are crazy. For real, they are completely nuts. Not women in general, but bitches. I’ve spent all day here helping Anthony deal with his fans. Most of them are harmless and very cool people. They came in, admired the scenery, paid and left. They were respectful and might have blushed and stammered a bit when they came face to face with Anthony, but that was it. Then you had the bitches. There will always be bitches.

  The models that body shame other women, they’re bitches. The women who will target a married man and try to seduce them, bitches. The women that will focus on a nerdy guy who doesn’t have much social awareness and try to take advantage of him to get a payday, bitches. Women that come in and make deliberately provocative comments, and don’t stop when the guy indicates he’s not interested, bitches. Women that insult another woman because they have a guy they want even if they don’t know anything except what they look like, super bitches.

  I came in as soon as the front of the shop opened. I hung out behind the counter and truthfully had a blast learning how to use the deli slicer. I helped ring up sales and wrap meat. I also handled most of my business from my phone. I took a couple skype meetings in Anthony’s office, but only after I made sure his Aunt Rose was there to defend his honor. For once I’m not being sarcastic, we really did need to defend his honor.

  Everything he told me the day before was completely true. He didn’t exaggerate at all. I don’t know whether my presence was helping or hurting. Some women still blatantly propositioned him even with me standing right next to him. I found myself insulted and verbally attacked throughout the day. I have had everything from my hair, my tiny tits, my height, my weight and even my skin tone insulted today.

  The worst was when Anthony and I weren’t pretending anything. We were both looking over a nerdy top ten list on my phone while I was sitting on a stool and Anthony was looking over my shoulder. We were both laughing at the list and ignoring crowd of customers just for a minute. The next thing I know I have some rabid woman screaming at me that I could never satisfy Anthony. Apparently I’m too small to handle his sexual demands. I’m too stupid to carry on an intelligent conversation. Oh and I couldn’t provide for him financially like she could. All of this from a woman who didn’t know anything about either of us.

  I can honestly say I was completely bewildered. Anthony though was enraged. He snapped at the woman to get out of his store, that she didn’t know shit about him and what he needed. He grabbed my hand and squeezed tight. I don’t know if it was for my benefit or his. After she had left, he leaned down and kissed the side of my head before announcing to everyone we were going in the back. After he double checked everything was under control in there we snuck out and hopped on his Harley Dyna Wide Glide and roared off.

  Which brings us up to now flying south on 95 on the back of Anthony’s bike with my arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Thankfully I’m wearing my boots, jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt since I was working in the shop. I know Anthony has been planning to get me on the back of his bike for awhile now. Like normal he never said a word but he had a hand painted half helmet he grabbed from his office and handed to me as we were leaving.

  I giggle and snuggle tighter into Anthony’s tee shirt covered back even while hating myself for making such a girly sound. My helmet is black with a ghost black cats on either side stretched out like they’re mid-pounce. I know the helmet is custom made for me, first by Andy’s signature then by the Inferna Gattina in orange script at the back center of my helmet.

  I have no clue where we’re heading. I wonder if I might finally get to see Anthony’s house. A couple of years ago Anthony made what we thought was a crazy decision and bought a house in Swarthmore about a half hour south of the city. He said he needed out of the noise of the city, at least he laughed when we gave him sound cancelling headphones begging him to move back. He got it at auction for a fraction of what it was worth and has been fixing it up. Why a single man needs a four bedroom two bathroom house I can’t understand. I also can’t fathom having enough stuff to fill it.

  I relax and lean into the turns with Anthony. It’s not the first time I’ve been on the back of a bike but this is different than shooting across town in the city, and it’s different since it’s Anthony. All of the red lights prevent you from relaxing into the ride like you can on a winding road like we’re currently on. I’m keeping an eye peeled for any rogue cows. I recently learned exactly how big they are, I know they would win if we ran into one.

  I’m distracted from my thoughts of cow versus motorcycle outcomes as we pull into a short driveway that leads up to a gorgeous two story half stone half siding colonial. Anthony slows to a creep so that I can examine the front of the house. There’s a small little porch with a massive bay window to the left of it, I laugh as I see Boomer with his front paws in the window. He clearly heard the sound of the Harley and is anxious to see his human.

  “Do you want to come in through the garage or the front door?” Anthony sounds uncharacteristically nervous. I realize how much this must mean to him, he’s who did most of the work on the house by himself.

  “Front door, please. I’m worried if Boomer gets anymore excited he might come through the window.” I nod my head towards where he is watching us. I also want to see the house the way a guest would. Anthony stops the bike, and I wait patiently while he puts the kickstand down and climbs off. Instead of holding a hand out he simply picks me up and sets me down beside the bike, before taking my hand and leading me to the front door.

  When we get to the porch and I see the welcome mat I burst out laughing. It’s tan with a fancy flowing script in black that says A fragile and very sensitive big ass dog lives here. “Really?! I don’t think Boomer is fragile or very sensitive. He is legit bigger than I am Anthony!”

  “Hush, he has a sensitive soul, you’re going to hurt his feelings,” Anthony jokes as he unlocks the door. Boomer rushes out the door and puts his paws on his chest and proceeds to try to lick him into submission. When Boomer sees me next to Anthony, he daintily drops back to all fours before shoving his big behemoth English Mastiff head into my chest and staring up at me with his soulful eyes. He has the classic golden coloring with the black snout and ears, and black around his eyes that combined with the wrinkles makes his eyes look sunken in. I give in and hug his head and rub his ears the way he likes. I may not have been out here yet, but I have seen Boomer plenty and he is definitely a sweetie. He pulls back and walks in the door and looks back at me as if asking if I’m coming or not.

  I go ahead and follow Boomer into the house before my shock has me grinding to a halt and looking around. I expected a decent place, but this is something out of a magazine. Honey colored hardwood floors stretch as far as I can see, there’s a gray and white chevron rug underneath the living room furniture in front of me. The walls are painted a soft misty green color that echoes the shade in the woods visible through the big windows on either side of the fireplace. A massive gray microfiber couch with a chaise on the left end sits in front of the fireplace and the massive television mounted above it. There’s two reclining loveseats angled to face each other and the television on either side of the couch.

  One of the things that has me doing an impression of a statue is the built-in book shelves all along the wall directly in front of me. They’re also on the wall to my right and under the stairs rising up to the second floor. The shelves are completely packed with books. I’ve always known Anthony reads and is smarter than he lets on but I never expected his living room to look like a library. I run my fingers along the bookshelves as I walk towards the kitchen. Luckily it looks like his books are organized by subject and then alphabetically so I should be able to resist
reorganizing them. I peek inside a door at the end of the wall right before the kitchen and find a small half bath with blue walls and a green towel. There’s no girly details just a green towel through a ring beside the sink and a print on the wall of an octopus wrapped around an anchor that has me laughing.

  I can’t contain the small moan that comes out of me when I go into the kitchen at the back of the house. I may not cook but even I know how amazing this kitchen is. The gray tile on the floor echoes the river rock on the bottom half of the outside. The cabinets are an extremely dark gray and circle around from where I’m standing in the doorway down the wall to my left and then the wall beside it until you reach the massive stainless steel fridge. Miles of shiny pale gray granite countertops flow around on top of the counters with dark gray specks that pick up the color of the cabinets, only broken up by the big farm sink under the window on the left hand wall.

  I can see the big gas cooktop in the island in the middle of the kitchen. It’s one of those fancy ones with the grill burner in the middle of the cooktop. I can’t see the oven, so it must be on the other side of the island. Like at Frankie’s there’s a couple of stools but these are bigger and have a short back, like ones you might find in a bar. Looking to my right shows me a sun washed dining area with a small table with benches instead of chairs. Almost all of the walls on that side of the room consist of windows that overlook a massive fenced in backyard. There’s big sliding doors in front of me that lead out to a massive patio that Boomer is standing in front of. I walk over and open the door letting him run out into the backyard.