Page 19 of Worth Loving You

“No. I see a beautiful woman. Fair skin, light freckles, big, brown, soulful eyes, full, naturally pink lips that are always pouty, thick, wavy hair, and your tits are pretty fantastic. I wish I had boobs as good as yours.”

Snorting, I laid my cheek to the top of her head. “Can you picture yourself with tits like mine? You’d fall over.”

She giggled, playfully slapping the inside of my thigh. “You gonna take his offer?”

The dread washed back into my soul. “No. His little friend reminded me that if Milo Pampinella wanted a woman, he would find someone who wasn’t fat and ugly.”

She clucked her teeth and sat up. “You ain’t ugly, Chazzy.”

“But I’m fat.”

Her brow arched, her lips thinning. “You really think there are men out there that don’t want a plump girl? You gotta get out your head, sugar.” She drew in a quick breath, her expression lighting up. “Why don’t I give you a makeover. Yeah—”

“No—”

“Oh, c’mon, Chazz. Lemme show you how sexy you can be.”

When I failed to deny her, she must have taken that as acceptance, because she was squealing, hopping to her feet and dragging me up, as well. Pulling me down the hallway to my bedroom at the end, she gently shoved me to my bed and grabbed my brush off my dresser.

Sitting there, like a lump of clay, I did nothing as she prattled on and molded me into her perception of beauty.

“I think you should take the offer, sugar. I mean, technically, you ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. You’re still gonna massage him, which you’re licensed and trained to do. Just think of the sexy stuff as a bonus, just somethin’ two people do when business is done with.”

“He doesn’t know I’m a virgin. What if he doesn’t want me after he finds out?”

“Then you take the money and run, girl. And then we’re gonna take a cruise, get tanned, and get laid by some giant natives somewhere with big, brawny chests and huge dangalangs,” she sighed, biting her bottom lip and tapping her chin.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. She was prudish in every aspect but sex. I was forward in every aspect, but sex. She had the looks, I had the brain. Between the two of us, we made one perfect woman.

“I dunno. I just don’t think I can handle that kind of relationship.”

She pursed her lips, gazing into my eyes. “You know,” she sighed, teasing my hair. “I never would have pegged you for bein’ the traditional type.”

“I don’t think I am. I don’t know what I am, I just know the very idea of going back to that apartment so that huge steroid asshole can judge me, kills me.”

“So, you bring Mr. Rich here and…”

She paused, twisting her waist to look around. The brush on her chin once more, she glimpsed at me and frowned. “Better yet, maybe y’all should go to a hotel.”

“That just makes me feel sleezy again. I just…I think I’m going to have to pass.”

She clucked her teeth, playing with my hair. “It just seems like such a shame to give up all that money.”

“Yeah, well, I have to be able to live with myself, right?”

“I suppose,” she sighed, styling my hair.

She continued on, chatting away about Gary and her day at work, but I was tuning her out. My mind was focusing on Milo’s questions and suggestions about me wanting better for my life, having dreams and aspirations to be my own boss.

Damn him for planting seeds in my head, making me want more than mediocrity. What was so wrong with complacency? I was happy with my boring, routine existence.

Now…not so much. Now the very idea of opening my own spa, being the boss, keeping all my money when I earned it, was something that was piquing my interest.

Milo was an asshole.

But Wyatt Shaw was a bigger one. Literally and metaphorically.

Chapter 8