Pretty In Ink: A BBW Novella Read online

  Feeling like the shit he was, Garrett shoved on last night’s clothes, then hurried downstairs to try and get to the bottom of the latest problem. The paranoid part of him pointed out that everything had been running smoothly until he’d become involved with Aubrey. He shook the thought away. She was the one bright spot in his life right now; he would be a fool to lose her. Once he got everything straightened out, they would be back on track again.

  His anger had reached boiling point by the time she swanned into the bar just after nine. Her hair, tied up in a ponytail, swung between her shoulders with every step. She looked cute and perky in casual denim that emphasized the beautiful swell of her hips, and a low-cut striped T-shirt displaying enough of her breasts to set his mouth watering on any other occasion. The rucksack she stowed all her work equipment in was slung over one shoulder, and a plastic take-out bag swung in her right hand. Pausing to brush cheeks with his sister as she crossed toward him, she looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. All right for some.

  “You about done?” He could see the shadow of concern in her eyes when he stepped from behind the bar to meet her. Her smile faltered when he didn’t duck his head to kiss her, but she didn’t say anything when he walked past to lead her to the stock room and up to his apartment. His temper held long enough for them to settle onto his well-worn couch with the Chinese take-out boxes spread on the coffee table in front of them. She’d brought all his favorite dishes, which pissed him off even more. He knew he was being irrational, but it didn’t stop him from biting out, “So, how well do you know Kenny Ross?”

  Her head snapped up, brown eyes filled with confusion, or something else, maybe? “Why would you ask about him?”

  An evasive answer. Jesus Fucking Christ, if she’d been playing him, he would wring her neck. “Just answer the fucking question.”

  She set her take-out carton on the table, then drew her legs up and settled into the corner of the couch. “Kenny is best friends with my sister’s fiancé. I knew him vaguely, but after the engagement we started going out, mostly in a group, but occasionally together. I broke off our so-called relationship on the same night you and I got together.” She folded her arms, a frown tugging at her delicate brow. “He’s an asshole.” The look she threw at Garrett said maybe he wasn’t the only one. “Now, why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on, because I really do not appreciate your bad mood.”

  Her little snap of temper would normally delight him. He loved her fiery take-no-prisoners side. Tonight though, it was just a splash of gasoline on his already flaming anger. He tossed his own food aside and glared at her. “Well, I really don’t appreciate your fucking boyfriend buying out our mortgage and trying to put me out of business!” The utter shock on her face froze the angry words on his tongue. She was too expressive and open to be able to fake it. He lowered his voice. “You didn’t know.” He made it a statement rather than a question.

  “Didn’t know what, Garrett?” She reached for him, dropping her hand when he shifted his arm out of reach. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please? I feel like I’m in a movie, but no one gave me the script.”

  Unable to sit still, he pushed to his feet and began pacing around the small room. He was still trying to understand exactly what had happened himself. “Pop and I went to the bank this afternoon. They sold their mortgage stock. The manager got an offer, and he took it because it released his equity allowance. Gives him the opportunity to help other customers. The new company wrote to Pop, and they’ve increased the monthly repayments four-fold.” He clenched his fists to stop from punching a hole in the wall next to him. “We just don’t have that kind of money coming in to be able to cover it.”

  “I’ve never heard of that before, but then, I don’t have a lot of experience. I bought my house outright.” It was a casual comment, but to Garrett it felt like a slap in the face. Another example of how different their lives were.

  “Must be nice for you, princess.” he mumbled, cursing silently the moment the words passed his lips. She’d never hidden anything about her family from him, and it had never occurred to him the difference in their backgrounds might be an issue. He knew from the start she was too good for him, but when they were together she was just Aubrey, and he’d shoved all his doubts aside because being with her felt so damn good. He’d even agreed to escort her to her sister’s wedding, knowing he would be a fish out of water. It hadn’t seemed important what they might think of him. He knew she wasn’t looking forward to it, so he’d offered to support her.

  “So, what does any of this have to do with Kenny?”

  He shoved the food aside and sat down on the coffee table in front of her. He could see from her expression she already suspected what he would say next. “Ross Financial own the new mortgage. Your boyfriend signed the letter personally.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “Stop calling him that!”

  It wasn’t her fault. Somewhere in his head, he understood that, but his anger was a visceral thing, and he needed to lash out. “Face it, Aubrey. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t brought him here.”

  “So, now this is my fault?”

  “Well, everything was going fine until we started dating.”

  “Hey! You kissed me, remember? You pulled me into that corner and kissed the life out of me, Garrett Chase. Drove me so crazy for you, I even dropped my purse….” She paused. When she spoke again, her words were hesitant, as though she was trying to follow an elusive thought. “I dropped my purse in the corridor, we found it when we came out of the stock room. I assumed Kenny left at the same time as the others.” She sat back, one hand over her mouth. “He had my phone. I never figured out how he had it, but he must have taken it from my purse when we were in the stock room.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Kenny showed up a couple of weeks ago, gave me back my phone and said I’d left it at the table. I knew I had it after then, but I couldn’t figure out how he got hold of it. If he came looking for me, and found my purse. What if he heard us?” A blush flamed on her pale cheeks. “I wasn’t exactly quiet.”

  No, she hadn’t been. She’d been loud and utterly beautiful when she came apart for him that first time. “So, what? This is some kind of revenge kick for him, because you dumped him and fell straight into my arms?” His anger was still simmering, but Aubrey was on to something. He squeezed his fists over his knees, trying to force his brain to work past the rage and focus.

  “I have no idea. I didn’t think he even liked me that much.” She shook her head, stopped and then smiled at him. “It doesn’t matter though!” She leaned forward, her hands clasping over his clenched fists. “Garrett, I have my trust. I don’t know how much your mortgage is, but there will be more than enough to pay it off. I can speak to the management company. I have complete control of how I spend the funds.”

  Garrett stared into her bright, shiny eyes, listened to her excited words as she babbled away about setting up an appointment for him and Pop, like she was some fucking magical fairy waving her magic wand to make all their problems go away. A rushing sound filled his ears. “Shut up.”

  She pulled back from him like he’d slapped her. “Garrett….”

  Shoving the coffee table back as he stood, he marched across the open room to grab a beer from his fridge. Twisting off the cap, he pulled long on the ice-cold brew. He leaned back against the counter and tried to find the words to make her understand. “Whatever the reason behind it, this isn’t your problem. I don’t want your fucking money.”

  Aubrey stood, and he turned to the fridge to get her a beer. They would both need a drink after what he guessed was their first official fight. When he glanced up, she was by the door, rucksack on her shoulder and tears in her eyes. “All this time I was congratulating myself for finding a man who accepted me for who am I, but I was wrong.” She let out a shaky laugh. “Oh, you like my curves just fine, but you’re no different from the rest of them. I have never let anyone make me fe
el ashamed for being fat, Garrett.”

  “You’re not fat,” he snapped, moving to close the distance between them.

  She raised her hand to stop him. “I am fat, and that’s okay. I’m also rich, and I won’t pretend not to be because it makes you feel uncomfortable.” She unlocked the door and pulled it open, pausing to glance back him. “This is me, Garrett. This is who I am, and you accept all of it, or none.”

  He should go to her, stop her from walking out. Tell her the problem wasn’t with her. But then what? He’d have to lay everything out on the table, tell her about his past, and see the look of disgust in her face when she realized the kind of man she was involved with. Better to let her go.

  He listened to the wooden stairs creak beneath each step as she walked out of his life. He took another pull on his beer, washing the taste of bile from his mouth. Aubrey didn’t realize it, but she had made a lucky escape. Not only was he a thief, he was a fucking coward too.

  Chapter Eight

  The last two weeks had passed in a blur of tears and tantrums. Mostly from her sister. Marissa had decided to go into full Bridezilla mode as the wedding edged closer, and Aubrey had spent most of her time trying to keep the peace between her and their mother. Hating the emptiness of her house, and not wanting to give in to her desperate need to crawl back to Garrett, Aubrey had moved back home temporarily. She missed him, ached for him, but she refused to compromise. Perhaps she was being unfair to him. His life had been thrown into turmoil by whatever stupid game Kenny was playing, his anger was more than understandable in the circumstances. But his rejection of her money had struck deep. The anger and resentment she’d seen in his eyes still hurt to think about.

  She was also afraid that if she gave in to her need to see him, she would throw all her hard-won independence to the wind and mold herself into whatever he needed her to be. She loved him that much. It hurt like hell to be apart from him, but she needed to love herself more. Aunt Amy had mopped her tears, stroked her hair, and cursed Garrett in such terms as Aubrey had never heard from her mouth before. She’d also told her to speak to him, to try and find a way through. Maybe she would, but she had other bridges to try and build first.

  Dangling two glass flutes from her fingers, she tucked the bottle of champagne under her arm and tapped lightly on her sister’s bedroom door. The tension between them was awful, and no matter how much Aubrey might dislike Marissa’s choice of groom, she loved her sister and wanted her to enjoy her special day tomorrow.

  “Oh, it’s you.” Not the most promising of greetings, but Marissa left the door ajar as she walked back to her seat in front of the large vanity mirror. Aubrey took a deep breath and reminded herself why she was there as she nudged the door closed. Placing the glasses on the dressing table, she loosened the cork with a satisfying “pop” and poured the foaming, golden liquid into the crystal flutes. She rested the bottle of Veuve Cliquot on the dresser and handed her sister a glass.

  “You’ve been raiding Daddy’s cellar.”

  “Only the best for the bride-to-be.” Aubrey raised her champagne in toast. “I wish you well, Marissa.” The dry, fruity wine bubbled over her tongue, and she sighed in appreciation. Looking round for somewhere to sit, she settled on the edge of the bed. The only other free chair had a narrow seat and high arms, which she knew from experience would dig into her thighs.

  They sipped in silence while she watched Marissa section her long blonde hair and curl it into heated rollers. “I thought the hairdresser was coming to the hotel tomorrow.” Her parents had booked out the exclusive, boutique hotel that would host the wedding, and they each had a private suite reserved. The plan was for everyone to transfer there in the morning, and staff from the attached spa would be dispatched to do hair and makeup for those who wanted it. Aubrey was going to do her own. She might have to suffer the dress Marissa had chosen, but she would not subject herself to a cascade of ringlets, or the kind of hair-helmet her mother would lacquer to her own head. She shuddered at the thought.

  “I wanted something to do.” For the first time in weeks, the confident mask slipped, and Aubrey saw a hint of vulnerability in Marissa’s face where it reflected in the big mirror. She shifted on the bed, rolling her hips slightly to free herself from the deep cushion of the mattress. The look in her sister’s eye hardened. “Doesn’t being that size bother you?”

  Aubrey took a long drink from her glass and counted silently to ten. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

  “Oh, Aubrey. I’m not looking to fight, but your refusal to take better care of yourself is disappointing.” Marissa added a patronizing shake of her head.

  “Starving yourself to meet someone else’s elusive standard isn’t my idea of self-care, Marissa. Turning yourself into a carbon-copy of Mom isn’t either.” Aubrey marched to the dresser and refilled her glass. She was so angry, she rattled the bottle against the edge of the glass.

  “You have no idea what it’s been like.” Marissa jumped to her feet. An ugly flush mottled her neck and upper chest. “One of us had to carry the expectations of Mom and Dad. When you moved out it became pretty clear you were only interested in pleasing yourself. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

  Aubrey shook her head; she didn’t understand how things had become so messed up between them, but the rancor in her sister’s voice told her it would take more than a drink to fix it. “I’m just living my life the best way I can, Marissa. Maybe you should try it sometime.” Silence stretched between them, broken only by the delicate song of the champagne bubbles in their glasses.

  “I’d like you to leave.”

  She didn’t need the stiff words of dismissal, was already halfway to the door. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

  The air-conditioning was cranked to near-freezing, but Aubrey was still red and sweating by the time she’d wrestled into the candy-pink bridesmaid’s dress. The color did nothing for her, washing her skin to an unflattering sallow tone. Tight bands of material crisscrossed from the high-necked bodice to her knees before spilling out into a wave of ruffles that skimmed the floor. Her boobs, butt and thighs were constrained to the point of discomfort, and the cut made it impossible to make more than tiny shuffling-steps. She hated everything about it. Reaching behind her, she fumbled with the end of the zipper, trying in vain to slide it the rest of the way up. “Fucker!” Her screech of frustration almost masked the quiet knock on the hotel room door. Hiking up the ruffles to avoid tripping over them, she hobbled across the room and yanked the door open.

  Six-foot something of delicious man filled the frame, sending her heart racing. “Garrett.”

  “Hey, angel. You look, umm—”

  “Like a Pepto Bismol Disco Barbie nightmare?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched, and the warm gleam in his blue eyes sent a quiver of longing straight to her belly. “I was gonna just say pink, but yeah.”

  Fighting the urge to tumble headlong into his arms, she scowled. “What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged one shoulder, drawing her eye to the finely tailored lines of his charcoal pin-striped suit. A crisp white shirt lay beneath the matching gray vest, fastened at the throat with a paler-gray silk tie. His dark hair was swept into a low quiff in front, the sides freshly-shaven. He looked breathtaking, so unlike the casual jeans and shirts she’d only ever seen him in before.

  “The wedding starts at two, right? I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.” He glanced down at the carpet, circling the toe of one black oxford shoe in a nervous gesture. “I also heard your date had acted like an asshole and let you down. I hoped you would let me act as your escort instead.”

  He sounded so uncertain, she couldn’t help but laugh. “If you can help me into this dress, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Following her to where she stopped in front of a floor-length mirror, he placed a gentle hand on the curve of her hip. “I’d rather help you out of it.” He lowered his head, skimming his lips across the bare
expanse of her shoulder. The image of him curled over her back, the tickle of butterfly kisses on her skin sent her heart racing into overdrive. He’d made the first move, come to her and admitted he’d been an asshole. That had to mean something, right?

  She raised her hand to cup his neck. The motion caused the half-closed zipper to come undone and her breast popped over the top of the diamante-encrusted neckline. “Now that’s more like it,” he growled against her throat, cupping her with his warm palm. Embarrassment and joy warred within her for a moment, before she leaned back against him and let the laughter come. “Christ, woman. I love the way you laugh.” He lifted his head and met her eyes in the mirror. “I think I love you.”

  “All of me?” She bit her lip, wanting to swallow the question, but she needed to be sure. If she let him in and he continued to shut her out, she might not recover again.

  “Yes, Aubrey, but I’m not sure you’ll ever be able to say the same thing.” He caressed her breast with a gentle sweep of his fingers, then tucked her gently back into the top of her dress. Sucking in a breath, she held it while he forced the zipper fully closed. He took a step back, tucked his hands in the pockets of his slacks and strolled toward the large picture window overlooking the manicured gardens of the hotel. She wanted to go to him, to stroke the tension from his back, and assure him she could love all of him too. As long as he wasn’t a closet serial-killer, she was pretty sure of it.

  “My parents died when the three of us were kids, you know that, right?” He kept his eyes fixed on the window, and she tiptoed over to the bed to rest against the edge of it. Sitting was damn near impossible thanks to the dress.

  “Gina mentioned it. I guessed as much when you mentioned growing up with Pop.”

  “I was fourteen. Full of rage and tears, and too stupid and selfish to realize that everyone around me was hurting just as bad. I started hanging around with the wrong crowd.” His voice dropped lower. “Got into trouble.”