Big & Beautiful 11: Curvaceous & Captivating

Autor:in

Mary E Thompson

Gelesen

145K

Kapitel

Autor:in

Mary E Thompson

Gelesen

145K

Kapitel

💕 Romance 👩🏻‍🍼 Mothers 🎭 Drama 🏙️ Contemporary ⏳ Plus Size

Chapter 1

Book 11: Curvaceous & Captivating

I was rushing. I hated rushing. It was like fingers creeping up my spine and yanking my hair, reminding me I didn’t have my world as carefully balanced as I let most people believe it was.

I felt like The Cat In The Hat most days. All those things precariously perched on top of one another. One little bump and it would all go flying.

I couldn’t afford a bump.

The best part of the day was that it was nice out. Of course, if I’d realized that earlier, it would have stopped the argument I had with my kids about wearing boots, hats, gloves, and scarves to school. I might have been on time if I’d known how gorgeous it was.

But nope, I had no idea. Because I didn’t watch the news. I didn’t check my phone when I got up. I didn’t even look outside before walking out the door most days. And in Winterville, New York, there was no way to trust that it was nice just because the sun was shining, no matter how many times my six-year-old, Becca, told me it was.

Which I heard about on the drive to school. Because, of course, we missed the bus.

Again.

I ran across the parking lot and yanked the door open, praying I’d make it to my desk before I got into trouble. Thankfully, my boss, Mayor Wyatt Ramsey, was pretty awesome, but even he had his limits.

I fell into my chair and breathed a sigh of relief. My heart raced, reminding me that I was far too curvy to be running.

“Good morning, Olivia,” a male voice said from behind me.

I swallowed the deep breath my lungs were burning for and grinned at my boss as he walked around to the front of my desk. Wyatt was definitely an attractive man. Tall and lean with a fit body. His short dark hair and matching brown eyes made him look young, although I honestly didn’t know how old my boss was. I knew he was older than me, but I was almost thirty, so it wasn’t hard for the Mayor of Winterville to pass that.

“Hey, Wyatt.”

“Everything okay?” he asked with a lifted pair of eyebrows and a hip against the edge of my desk.

I knew he was getting sick of my news about the kids, mostly because it was never exciting, but he always asked if things were okay.

“I’m sorry. We missed the bus again this morning.”

His lips tilted up at the corners. “Becca arguing?”

I sighed, feeling like I was talking to a friend instead of my boss. “Always. I’m sorry I’m late though.”

He shook his head. “Olivia, this is why I made you a salaried employee. You don’t need to watch the clock anymore. Yes, if there’s something I need you to do, I’ll expect you to be here, but on a day-to-day basis, I’m not overly concerned. You always get everything done.”

“Thank you, Wyatt. I still feel bad when I’m running late.”

“I know. Try not to stress. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee. Do you want one?”

I nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

He shook his head and grinned. “I wouldn’t have asked. Two creams, six sugars, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m your assistant. I’m supposed to be the one who knows how you take your coffee.”

He chuckled. “Lucky for you I need to stretch my legs around the same time you get in most days. It works out well for both of us.”

I smiled as Wyatt turned and went to retrieve our coffees. Damn, he had a cute butt. I just wish I felt an ounce of attraction to him. Sure, he was cute, and I could accept that, but it was sort of like accepting your brother was cute. You could be objective long enough to agree that he’s good looking, but not long enough to be attracted to him.

With a sigh, I turned on my computer. Six weeks until the Winterville Easter Egg Hunt. Ever since Wyatt became the mayor, he’s worked to bring the community together. First, it was the Memorial Day picnic. This year he added the Easter Egg Hunt and wants to do a Christmas Event. I warned him if he added too many more festivals, I would need an assistant.

He just smiled.

I clicked through to my email and waited as the new messages loaded. There was one marked Easter Egg Hunt sponsor, which I clicked on first.

Before I even finished the first paragraph, Wyatt set coffee on my desk. I looked up at him and asked, “Did you see this sponsorship email?”

“What sponsorship email?”

He leaned over my shoulder and read along with me. When he finished, he stood and whistled.

“Damn. Really? Timeless Timber Toys. I’ve never heard of them.”

“They have a facility near Winter Ridge. My kids love their stuff. It’s expensive but really well made. I don’t know much about them.”

Wyatt scrubbed his jaw and studied a spot on the wall. “I’ve got a meeting shortly. Look into the company and this…” He looked at my screen again. “Ethan Norwood guy. If it sounds legit, I’ll set up a meeting with him.”

I nodded, turning back to my computer as Wyatt went back to his office. He left again a minute later, but I was already looking into the toys and wishing I could afford some for my kids.

* * *

Two hours later, I was pretty sure I could give Wyatt a full rundown on Ethan Norwood, including birth date (December 17), favorite color (black), and the history of every company he’s ever owned. Which was an extensive list. What I couldn’t dig up was a picture of the man or anything about his family. He appeared to enjoy staying out of the spotlight.

Wyatt came back from his meeting looking frustrated. He went straight past me into the office, leaving me to dig a little deeper. I was fairly certain there wasn’t anything else to find and shut down my browser just as Wyatt walked out of his office.

“Did you find anything?”

I nodded and spun to face him. “Timeless Timber Toys is definitely legit. There was an article online about Ethan Norwood buying the company a few months ago. The company is pretty impressive. I think they’d be a great sponsor for us, too. A kids’ company that makes handmade, natural toys. Not the cheap crap that floods the stores, but stuff like we had when we were kids. I have a lot of respect for the company. From what I know, they have a lot of respect in the community. It can’t hurt us.”

Wyatt ran a hand over his jaw. “Okay, I’ll call them. See if I can get a meeting with the guy. Sooner is better than later, right?”

I nodded. “Yes, definitely. I’m already putting together promotional stuff. If he really wants to be a lead sponsor, or the lead sponsor, we need to get it nailed down now. Like today or tomorrow. I’m supposed to have final proofs to the printer tomorrow close of business.”

“Okay, I’ll see if I can get through to him right away. I have a lot going on the next two days. If I can’t see him, are you free to go?”

I nodded eagerly, glancing at my calendar to confirm it was indeed empty. I was more than a little curious about the man. “We need to get this done, so yeah. Let me know.”

Wyatt went into his office, and I pulled up the logo I’d been working on. I shifted the words “Easter Egg Hunt” slightly closer to the top, just below “Winterville’s First Annual.” I added “Sponsored by Timeless Timber Toys” below that. The Easter eggs scattered in the background allowed the black words to pop, but it didn’t feel right. It was missing something. And that was always the problem I had. Something was missing.

Story of my damn life.

I shook away the thoughts that wouldn’t do me any good and turned back to my computer. I changed the colors on the words, moved the eggs around, and tried everything I could think of. It never looked quite right.

I pushed away from my desk in a huff. I knew I’d regret it, but I went to get another cup of coffee anyway. When I got back, Wyatt was standing over my computer.

“Did you try to change the sizes of the words? Or make the letters darker versions of the pastels?”

I shook my head and sat back down. I made the changes Wyatt suggested, and it finally looked right. “Thank you. I’ve been staring at this for days, and I knew it didn’t look right, but I couldn’t figure it out. Of course, I’ll have to change things around if they don’t sponsor the hunt.”

Wyatt sucked in a breath and gave me a look that said I wasn’t going to like what he had to tell me.

“Out with it. What’s going on?”

“He has meetings the rest of today. His only availability is tomorrow morning. Nine a.m.”

“And you have the monthly budget meeting.”

Wyatt nodded. “Yeah. Which means I need you to go to the meeting.”

I took a deep breath. “I’ve met with sponsors before, Wyatt.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Ones we’ve known for years or in a neutral location. He wants you to come to his office.”

“I’ll be fine, Wyatt. You know where I’ll be. And there’s no reason to worry.”

“You can take someone with you, if you want.”

“Wyatt,” I said sternly. “I’ll be fine. Relax.”

He backed away with his hands up, palms facing me. “Okay. Your call.”

The rest of the day passed quickly. I made sure I knew exactly where the place was and shut down my computer. I said goodbye to Wyatt and reminded him I’d be in late the next day so I could make it to the meeting, then left to get the kids from after-school care.

* * *

“Kevin, will you please sit down?”

He huffed. I was not looking forward to teenage years. At almost ten years old, the moodiness was already starting. God help me when he had his first girlfriend.

“Becca, you need to finish that worksheet before you can go play.”

Becca opened her mouth to argue, but I just pointed.

I turned back to the stove when she sat down again. I stirred the macaroni and checked on the chicken. It was almost done, so I put the green beans and carrots into the microwave. Yes, I fed my kids vegetables out of a can, not fresh. Don’t judge me.

I heard someone get up again and spun with the spoon in my hand.

“What in the world is going on? Kevin. Why are you up again?”

He held up his pencil. “I need to sharpen it.”

I looked at the stubby end of the pencil and sighed. “Fine. Then sit down and finish your math homework. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Kevin sharpened his pencil and went back to his seat. A few minutes later, I drained the macaroni then added milk, butter, and the powdered cheese sauce. When that was stirred, I grabbed the pan with the baked chicken and set it on the stovetop. Becca ran past the kitchen, probably trying to avoid getting yelled at.

“Where are you going?” I called after her.

She paused and turned back to look at me. “I need to potty.”

I nodded, and she ran down the hall across from the kitchen toward the half bath. I stretched my neck and daydreamed about the bath I was hoping to take when the kids were in bed.

As Becca ran back through the kitchen, I pulled the green beans and carrots from the microwave. Three plates of food. Three drinks. Forks, spoons. Shoot. I forgot to cut up their chicken. I ran a knife through the pieces of chicken on their plates then added a healthy dollop of ketchup, because my kids didn’t eat anything without it, then carried everything to the table.

On my second trip, Kevin went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. “What are you looking for?”

“Ketchup.”

“It’s already on your plate.”

Becca was next. “I need a drink.”

“I already have your water poured. I’m working on it.”

She reached for the cup with the princesses on it and sipped it on her way back to the table. I finally sat down with the first scrapes of forks against the plates.

“How was school today?”

Kevin’s milk chocolate eyes, identical to my own, peered at me over the paper towel holder in the center of the table. Homework took up the seat next to him at the head of the table. He didn’t answer, but I could see something in those eyes. Something he didn’t want me to know.

“Fine,” he muttered.

Nice try.

“Did you have fun in music class?”

A shrug.

“How about gym?”

A slight wince before the shrug came. Interesting.

“What were you playing in gym today?”

“Bowling.”

Huh?

“That sounds fun. How does that work?”

Another shrug.

“Should I call your teacher and find out what you did and how it works?”

Frozen stare. Busted!

A sigh. “I was playing around with my friend and accidentally hit someone. I didn’t mean to.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

He nodded. “Mr. McIntyre said we needed to be more careful.”

“Did you have to go to the principal?”

A head shake.

“Are you going to do that again?”

Another head shake.

“I hope not.”

He ducked his head and dug into his dinner. Guess he was done talking.

“How about you, Becca? How was your day?”

“Good. I was the helper in art class today.”

“Cool. What did you get to help with?”

“I handed out the paint brushes, and Mrs. Hunt showed everyone my painting at the end of class because it was the best one.”

I pursed my lips together. If only I had her confidence. My little girl was a bundle of energy and thought she could do anything. I wished I could feel that way, even for just a minute.

“That’s great. How was the rest of your day?”

“Good. Except Mrs. Carr wants to meet with you. There’s a note in my folder.”

Dread settled in my gut. I hated parent-teacher conferences. They went one of two ways. Either the kid was having trouble and the teacher needed to talk to the parent about it, or the kid was doing really well. Usually, in my experience, it wasn’t the second one.

“I’ll look at it and send her an email. Is there anything I should know about before I meet with her?”

Becca shook her head, blonde curls spilling over her shoulders and nearly ending up in her dinner. I reached over and tucked her hair behind her ears. As always, the move made me think about the way Bill’s eyes had filled with tears when he’d met our little blonde girl. After Kevin was born looking so similar to me, Bill was excited to have a kid who looked like him.

Too bad he wasn’t excited about a life with us.

I shook thoughts of my ex out of my head and focused on my kids. Kevin stood and put his plate in the dishwasher, then came back to finish his homework. Becca and I kept eating.

“I have a meeting in the morning, so we need to make sure we make the bus tomorrow. Can we set out clothes tonight?”

Both kids agreed.

Ninety minutes later, both kids were tucked in, clothes were on beds, and I was ready for a glass of wine and that bath I’d been dreaming of. I cleaned the kitchen, picked up the living room, and checked that homework was packed for the morning. Then I poured myself an overly full glass and sipped it on my way to the bathroom. When we found the house, I was anxious about being so far away from the kids at night, but Bill convinced me having them upstairs and us downstairs wasn’t a big deal. It was harder on me than him, but with them getting older, I had an easier time with it.

Especially on nights when I ran the water to fill the tub. Being farther away meant it didn’t wake them up.

The bath was half-full when I heard the sniffles. I spun and found Becca leaning against the door, hair tangled and eyes red-rimmed with sleep and tears.

“What happened?”

“I had a bad dream.”

I glanced back at the tub, then let the water out with a sigh. Guess my bath would wait for another night.