by Alison Bliss
He had never been fond of the anorexic, always-on-a-diet type. And he sure as hell didn’t want to sleep with a bag of bones either. Sam appreciated the sensual rounded curves of a feminine body, a girl with some meat on her hips. The soft contours of a woman’s thighs, large shapely breasts, and a gently rounded ass he could grab on to with his hands—that was what he loved about a womanly figure. All the things Leah possessed.
But somehow she’d misunderstood. Had he known she pictured him at the helm of a boat with a harpoon in his hands, he would’ve gladly corrected the assumption. Leah was not a whale, by any means, and it was almost laughable she would think of herself in that manner. Especially since he was so attracted to her that he had to maintain a slight distance while dancing to keep from rubbing the hard bulge in his pants across her abdomen. It had taken all his strength just to keep from adjusting himself in front of her.
Some dickhead had obviously done a number on her self-esteem because there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with the way she looked. Whoever told this woman she’s fat should be shot and strung up by his testicles.
Actually, she looked better than any of the women he’d seen in the bar in the last month. Hell, he wanted nothing more than to find out what she was wearing under that tight little black dress that hugged her curves so deliciously. Every time his eyes landed on her tonight, he’d imagined what it would be like to have her unravel beneath him while he thrust into…No. I can’t go there. Take the girl to her door and forget about her. It wouldn’t be right.
He wasn’t ready to get involved with another woman after the drama with his ex-girlfriend. Hell, a psychiatrist could make a year’s fucking salary off Sylvia in just the first session alone. Sam needed to be single and allow himself time to regroup, to figure out what he wanted in a life partner. He’d been serious when he’d told Max he was ready to settle down, but he wanted to do so with the right person. Sylvia definitely wasn’t that person. And he doubted that the pissed-off, inebriated woman in his truck was the right one either.
He strolled around the hood and climbed into the driver’s seat, keeping his eyes straight ahead, not wanting to ogle her any more than he had to. “Okay, where to?”
Leah didn’t answer him.
He asked again, but all he heard was the soft sound of snoring coming from the passenger’s seat. He dared to glance over. Her eyes were closed tight, and her head lolled to the side. He pushed on her shoulder, but she only snored louder. Sam couldn’t help but grin at the way her head leaned so far back against the seat that her mouth hung open.
“Leah?” he said, nudging her again, “you have to wake up so you can tell me where you live.”
No movement. No opening her eyes. She was out cold. So Sam did the only thing he could. He started the truck, shifted into gear, and drove out of the parking lot.
Chapter Three
Sam poured the steaming coffee into the mug and carried it toward his bedroom. He wasn’t sure how Leah took her coffee—or if she even drank coffee—so he made it as strong as usual and hoped she liked it black.
Still asleep, she was lying on her back with one arm above her head, the cock-eyed pillow forcing it into a weird, break-neck position. She had kicked the comforter onto the floor, leaving her luscious, full-figured body covered only by a lacey black bra and matching panties. Unfortunately, those meager scraps of lace did nothing to hide her hard nipples.
Fuck me. He tried his damnedest not to stare, but the mere idea of her lying in his bed, with her hair cascading down his pillow, already had his dick twitching in delight.
Her mottled skin was broken out in gooseflesh, possibly from the combination of the cold air conditioner and the fan circling on high over the bed. It probably hadn’t helped that Sam had undressed her to make her more comfortable. If she hadn’t been passed out cold, he doubted he would’ve been such a gentleman and kept his hands to himself. It definitely wasn’t the first time he’d undressed a woman in complete darkness, but it was the first time he’d slept on the couch afterward.
He tapped her on the shoulder, hoping the alcohol had worked its way through her system. Maybe he’d be able to actually wake her this time.
Slowly, Leah stretched as her body and mind came into a conscious state. She sighed as her eyelids fluttered gently. She must’ve sensed she was in an unfamiliar place and panicked or something though because suddenly her eyes shot wide open and she arched her body off the bed, oddly clutching at her back.
The quick movement startled him, causing him to tilt the mug and splash hot coffee onto his hand, burning him. “Sonofa—” He wiped the side of his coffee-splattered hand on his jeans. “What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked.
“I…uh, was just checking.”
“For what?”
“M-my kidneys?” It sounded like a question.
He squinted at her, not sure what she was talking about.
“I was freezing. I guess I just thought…Well, you hear stories about people waking up in tubs of bloody ice water and missing a kidney.”
Sam blinked and shook his head. “You’ve got some serious issues.”
Leah lay back with both arms above her head and laughed. Then she must’ve realized she was not just in his bed but wearing only her bra and panties. She shrieked and immediately covered her chest with her arms, then sat up and drew her legs in to hide the rest of her as well.
He grinned lightly. “Too late. I’ve already seen it.”
“Oh crap. What did I do last night?”
“Nothing your mother would be proud of,” Sam said easily.
Her eyes widened. “Are you saying that we…um, I mean, did we…you know?”
“Settle down. I was talking about getting drunk and kicked out of a bar, not having sex.”
“So just to be clear, we didn’t…”
“Of course not. Why kind of pervert do you take me for? I wouldn’t take advantage of an unconscious woman.”
She was quiet for a second, probably trying to recall the events that led her to this very moment. He doubted she’d remember much more than climbing into his truck before the lights went out on her memories. “How did I get here?”
“You fell asleep in my truck, and I couldn’t wake you. I didn’t know where you lived or what to do with you so I brought you here.”
“Did you drag me inside by my ankle or something?”
He gave her a puzzled look. “No. I carried you in.”
“You must be pretty strong then.”
Sam frowned. She was dogging her weight again, and it was starting to piss him off. Some jackass had really given her a very unhealthy image of herself. “You’re not nearly as heavy as you think you are,” he said, looking directly into her eyes to show how serious he was.
Leah blushed a little and stammered, “Um…why am I naked?”
He glanced down at her partially covered body. “That’s hardly what I consider naked.” The words rumbled out, low and breathy, like he was turned on.
And if he was being completely honest with himself, he was. She was just as attractive out of her clothes as she was in her clothes, and Sam was enjoying the view.
“I thought you’d be more comfortable out of that tight-ass dress, but don’t worry, I left all the good parts covered,” he said. When she cringed and tightened her arms across her chest, Sam realized how that must’ve sounded. As if nothing else about her body was good, except her most private areas. “What I mean is—”
“Can I please have my dress back?” She spoke with a cool tone, obviously meant to end this particular conversation.
He stared at her for a second longer then tossed her the dress that had been lying on a chair across the room. To be a gentleman, he kept his back turned, allowing her time to slip into it.
Sam cleared his throat. “So I guess you don’t sleep in the nude?”
“Of course not.”
“You say that like it’s not normal for people to sleep naked. Lots of people do, you know.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I…well, I’m fat.”
He turned to look at her, just as she finished zipping up her dress. “Who the hell told you that you were fat?”
She sat on the bed and slipped on her heels one at a time. “Well, if we’re talking most recently…you did.”
“Leah, you misunderstood—”
“Look, I don’t want to talk about it. To answer your question, I don’t take my clothes off unless I absolutely have to, and sleeping doesn’t require it.”
Sam eyed her tight dress and then met her gaze head-on. “That depends on who you’re sleeping with.”
* * *
Leah didn’t know what to think.
After his remark, they’d both just stood there as a moment of awkward silence passed between them. His comment had sounded like a flirty come-on, and his brown eyes had done this funny, smoldering thing like he was picturing her naked or something. But then he’d completely shut down again. Damn him and his mixed signals.
Now he was giving her a ride home—a dreadfully quiet one, at that—which was way more awkward than it should’ve been for two strangers who’d spent the night together but hadn’t had sex.
“Turn right when you get to Market Street,” she told him.
He nodded but didn’t say anything. Just kept his eyes forward and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The knuckles on his right hand were still swollen and red from the punch he’d landed on Shrimper Bob’s jaw.
Without thinking, Leah reached over and rubbed a finger gently over the bruising, making him tense up. “Does it hurt?”
Sam shrugged. “Probably not as much as his jaw does.”
“I guess I should thank you,” she said, pulling her hand back and placing it in her lap as he took a right turn.
“But you won’t.” He looked over and cracked a smile.
She gave him a teasing smirk back. “Hey, I told you I could handle it. But I will thank you for taking care of me last night.”
He gave her a quick wink. “No problem.”
“And for being such a gentleman.”
“Oh, that was the easy part.”
Leah cut her eyes over to him. What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m so obviously unattractive that he had no problem keeping his hands to himself? She sighed inwardly. “You can drop me off in front of the bakery on the right.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I should’ve offered you some breakfast before we left. Sorry about that.”
Great. Now he thinks he should’ve fed the Goodyear Blimp before giving her a ride home. Jesus. What’s wrong with this asshole? Could he make it more plain that he thinks I’m a cow? Whatever. No sense in working herself up. Besides, she still had her decorations up from the pity party she threw herself last night. Nothing like getting ditched in the middle of the dance floor for a thinner girl who barely looked old enough to be in the bar in the first place.
Sam pulled up at the curb under the Sweets n’ Treats sign and stopped to let her out. “I’m running late for work, but I can wait…unless you’re going to be a while.”
“Okay, that’s it!” she yelled, unbuckling her seat belt and swinging open the passenger door. “I’ve had enough of your snide remarks.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What’d I say?”
As she stepped out, she slammed the truck door and turned to face him through the open window. “Don’t play stupid. It’s not cute. You’ve made it painstakingly obvious that you aren’t attracted to me—which is fine, by the way—but you don’t have to make fun of me.”
Sam shook his head. “Leah, I’m not making fun—”
“Oh, really? Well, then why am I surprised you didn’t pull into the weigh station on the way here?” The moment she said it, she wished she could take it back. But once the flood gate was open, she had a hard time closing it. “For your information, I’m not here to eat. I’m here to work. This is my store. I know, such a cliché, right? Fat girl owns a bakery.” She turned to walk away.
“Leah, wait...”
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk but didn’t turn around. “Thanks for the ride, Sam.” Then she hurried inside.
The aroma of fresh-baked cinnamon raisin bread and vanilla-scented sugar glaze smacked her in the face. It was their top-selling item, and already a line of customers waited to get their share. Valerie wasn’t at the counter, which meant she was most likely filling orders in the kitchen.
Though Leah knew Valerie would need help, she continued to stand near the door, wondering why Sam was still parked out front and hadn’t driven off. For a moment, she thought he might even come in after her. But then he shifted into gear and pulled away from the curb. Leah shook her head, disgusted with herself. Stupid. Guys like him don’t chase after girls who look like me.
Valerie came out of the kitchen through the swinging door. She carried two small, white pastry boxes that she set on the counter as she caught a glimpse of Leah. “Hey, you! I’ve got an apron back here with your name on it.”
Leah hurried around the counter past Valerie. “Five minutes,” she called out, then did a mad dash through the kitchen and up the creaky back stairs leading to her home over the bakery.
Thankfully, Leah had lucked into leasing a building that came with an overhead apartment, which meant she only paid one rent instead of two. The one-bedroom was small and had been furnished by every garage sale in the neighborhood, but it was hers. A much better option than living with her parents at her age—not that twenty-seven was old or anything.
Leah stripped off her dress and jumped in the shower, hurrying to make it back downstairs before the morning rush was over.
Valerie hadn’t seemed upset that Leah was running late, but she didn’t want to press her luck. Mornings in a bakery were always the busiest time of the day, and although Val was a capable employee and a good friend, Leah wouldn’t allow herself to abuse their relationship.
Sweets n’ Treats had been open for only a month in Granite, Texas, but word of mouth had proven to be a powerful advertising weapon. From the beginning, Leah had realized she needed to sprout another pair of hands to keep up with the demands. That’s when she’d hired Valerie.
By the time she threw on jeans and a T-shirt, pulled her wet hair into a ponytail, and made it downstairs, the line at the counter had already diminished.
Valerie continued filling the last few orders while Leah grabbed a clean apron from the back and jumped right in, restocking the nearly-empty glass display counter with parchment-lined metal trays of apple fritters, custard-filled doughnuts, and maple-glazed cinnamon twists.
Once the last customer exited the bakery, Leah turned to Valerie. “I’m sorry I was late. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Actually, all that prep work you did yesterday saved me a lot of trouble. I know I told you not to worry about it, but I’m glad you didn’t listen. It made the morning run so much smoother.” Valerie sat down on a stool, wiping her brow. “And boy, I was swamped.”
“Hinting for a raise?” Leah asked with a laugh.
Valerie smirked. “Right now, I’d settle for some intel about last night.”
Leah blew out a breath, shrugged, and turned to wipe the counter. “Nothing to tell.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, really. Nothing happened.”
“Shovel, anyone?” Val yelled out to the empty bakery. “Come on, Leah. You can’t seriously expect me to believe that you went home with Sam and nothing happened.”
“It’s true,” she said, continuing to wipe a clean counter to avoid facing her friend.
“Oh.” Valerie paused. “Well, it’s probably for the best anyway.”
She looked over her shoulder at Valerie. “Why do you say that?”
“Max said he has a small penis.”
Leah laughed. “Max has a small penis?”
“No. Sam does.”
> She stopped laughing. “That’s not funny, Val.”
“Who’s laughing?”
“Why is Max talking about Sam’s penis with you? And how would he even know?”
“I don’t know. That’s just what he told me when I asked him why Sam was dancing with that other girl and you were sitting alone. Max said for me to tell you not to worry about it and that you weren’t missing out on anything.”
“So you saw all that?”
“Yes. A jerk move on Sam’s part, I might add. Max and I were going to come sit with you, but I got stuck in a long line for the bathroom. By the time I came out, you and Sam had both disappeared. I was a little concerned, but I ran into a girl who comes in the bakery almost every morning. She said she saw you leaving with a guy who fit Sam’s description.”
“We were thrown out by the bouncer. Sam punched Shrimper Bob.”
Valerie blinked, then threw her head back and laughed. “Oh no! Why’d he do that?”
“It was one of those macho things, I guess. You know, checking to see who had the bigger dick.” Shit. Wrong choice of words.
That made Valerie laugh even more. “I take it Sam and his micropenis must’ve lost.”
Leah rolled her eyes, then summed up the rest of the story—well, what she could remember of it—as quickly as she could, but Valerie continued the hysterics. Finally, Leah had enough and sighed. “Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”
“Oh, come on. It’s a little funny.”
“Not really,” she said, pushing open the swinging door and heading into the back room with a scowl on her face.
Valerie stopped laughing and trailed behind her. “Whoa! You really like him, don’t you?”
Why do I have to be so damn transparent? “Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t return the sentiment.”
“Then Tiny Tim is a jackass and doesn’t deserve you.”
“Well, how did you and Max get along?” Leah asked, waggling her brows suggestively.