Big Gator: A BBW shape shifter paranormal romance

by Soule, Annora

  “This actually – this verystrangely– really makes sense,” he said aloud.

  Brandy could see his face soften. It made her feel warm inside that he still hadn't gotten over her.

  She handed him back the jawbone. Their fingers brushed in passing. And he was gazing into her eyes a little more than he should be.

  It was McEvans, this time, who felt something. The contact made him feel flushed all of a sudden. Brandy's eyes are amazing – like pools of toffee or butterscotch,he thought.In fact, they're like Shirley's, actually. That struck him as odd. He decided to mention it.

  “You know, Shirley's eyes were different, too,” he said. “Most gator's have olive-colored eyes. But hers were a golden brown.”

  Brandy felt herself blush. He remembered the color of her eyes.

  “I've never noticed that,” she lied, clearing her throat self-consciously. “About their eyes. That's a good catch.”

  Chapter 11

  Rachel waited for her boyfriend, who was now 20 minutes later for dinner.

  She sat alone by candlelight at a romantic table-for-two at an upscale restaurant. This was their two-year anniversary, and he had texted her to say he was still at work.

  She sipped a glass of Pinot Grigio. She was tempted to order a bottle, even if she ended up having to drink it alone. Not once had she ever made McEvans wait forher. And she worked full time, too, as a model. She was well-known in the industry, but not so famous yet that the mainstream public knew her by name. Her face was recognizable, with her having done a number of ads and two separate photo-shoots for a popular lingerie catalogue, but she had yet to do a magazine cover. Rachel's agency was working on that and probably she would get the chance before the end of the year.

  Rachel first met McEvans on a photo shoot that she took part in a quirky fashion spread for a men’s journal featuring men's jackets designed from exotic leathers. McEvans guest-modeled as the man wearing the jackets, with Rachel in tow, as they ran away from the animals seeking revenge for the hides that Jake was was wearing.

  So, for example, on one page Jake wore a jacket made of ostrich hide. After the shoot, a graphic designer Photoshopped in a very pissed-off looking ostrich chasing them and –voila!– it was fashion gone wild, quite literally.

  Then when Animal Sphere opened a whole new section focused on exotic butterflies from South America, McEvans tracked her down and invited her for a candlelight dinner – just the two of them – among the butterflies. At first she played hard-to-get. He was, after all, a celebrity, and so this was a tricky dance. And, given Florida's average age calculating retirees, he was one of Florida's most eligible bachelors under 40, which was a dwindling population altogether. They were compatible, although probably not actually in love. Rachel didn’t think she had ever truly been in love.

  They were doing fine for the most part until that stupid alligator showed up. Rachel was pretty tolerant of his heavy workload and his travel schedule. Sometimes he even took her along on trips, which she easily could do combining work and pleasure. He was great to be around – smart, daring, although a little bit of a control freak. Not in an abusive kind of way. He was just a man who knew what he was doing, and he was in charge of his whole enterprise.

  Another 10 minutes went by. Her cellphone rang.

  “I'm sorry, Rachel,” McEvans said. “This is pretty much unforgivable, but I've got an emergency on my hands. I promise I will make it up to you.

  He explained to Rachel that he and his new intern had a lead on Shirley, and they had to jump on it tonight. They couldn't afford to waste any time, he said.

  Until McEvans, Rachel had repeated bad luck with men. She thought those days were over now, but over the past month her boyfriend had begun to change. McEvans had asked Rachel to move in with him, but instead he had to put that off when he decided to bring Shirley home with him instead. That delayed the move, because he wasn't sure that he had room for them both. Then Shirley had run away, and McEvans became despondent. That hadn't slept together for three weeks. This was not a good sign.

  Rachel didn't know what to do. She wasn't half-bad at the art of short-term seduction, but McEvans wasn't a man who could be so easily played. If she tried to gloss over their problems with a hefty dose of sex as a distraction – assuming she could get him back into bed – that would make things better for awhile, but what if he really did find Shirley and bring her back?

  Rachel considered mentioning the idea of couples therapy, which would horrify her mother, if she ever found out. Rachel's mother knew how to catch and keep a man until he dropped dead and left her all his money. She had managed it three times. Even as a much older woman, Rachel's mother had better skills in and out of the bedroom than her daughter.

  What the hellwasthis obsession with one particular alligator? So what if Shirley was bigger than most. Truth be told, Rachel thought alligators were creepy and sinister. They were killing machines that served no purpose other justthat. Killing. McEvans had told her they were ancient. That alligators were one of the few species whose lineage went straight back to the Dinosaur Age.

  Big friggin’ woop.

  A handsome young waiter approached Rachel's table. He was quite aware that he saw a woman who had been stood up. As gorgeous as this young woman was, her facial expression and body language indicated she was experiencing strong waves of insecurity. The waiter always was on the look out for this type female customer. It was a quiet night, so he could lend an ear. He had all the time in the world to listen to her problems. With a little luck, and a few drinks on-the-house, he might get to take her home.

  Rachel decided the waiter was a worthwhile distraction since she was in such a foul mood. So she let him get lucky. This wasn't, after all, the first time she had cheated on McEvans.

  Chapter 12

  Jake McEvans felt tremendously guilty about ditching Rachel on their anniversary, but Brandy had called him that morning and said she got a lead on Shirley. He didn't tell his new intern that he had other plans – important plans – because he didn't want her to think that he was a shit.

  They both knew they would have to wait until after dark. Shirley wasn't stuck in a pool this time. They were tracking her in her own habitat.

  Brandy had been working as a paid intern at Animal Sphere for just a week now. Since she had persuaded McEvans to hire her on the promise that she could get him Shirley, she had to come up with something to keep him on the hook.

  Brandy figured that if she lured him out to the swamp near her home late at night, she could sneak off and shift – make an appearance as 'Shirley' – and then swim off before he could actually catch her. That would be enough to convince him that Brandy could make good on her promise.

  She had to be careful, though, because she didn't want anyone else around to know that celebrity Jake McEvans was tracking gators in the area. If Ray and Marianne found out, she would be in big trouble.

  Brandy and McEvans stayed late at Animal Sphere packing up the necessary equipment for a nighttime swamp exploration and loading everything into his truck. They would take separate vehicles to the designated spot, since Brandy would go right home after, while he had about a 45-minute drive back. In McEvan's mind, with any luck, he would be bringing Shirley back tonight in the bed of his pickup truck.

  Once they reached the swamp, they both parked and unloaded the truck. Flashlights in hand, both wearing waders, they headed slowly into the swamp.

  “I think we should split up,” Brandy told him. “You wait here, and I'm going to head a little further in.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “If we split up, we can cover twice as much ground,” she said. “Don't wander too far, though. You might get lost.”

  As she walked, McEvans noticed that she had a slight limp. He had noticed that her left ankle was bandaged when he hired her, but hadn't asked anything about it. Now, he was a little concerned because this might not be the best thing for Brandy, tromping around reptile-infested swamps in the da
rk.

  “What happened to your ankle?”

  “It's nothing,” she said. “It's an old injury that sometimes flares up. No big deal.”

  Brandy disappeared into the darkness.

  McEvans stood there alone, pointing his flashlight around to see if he could see any alligators anywhere. He decided instead to ditch the flashlight and put on an explorer helmet with a light attached, so he could keep his hands free.

  As soon as she was sure she was clearly out of view, Brandy stripped down to nothing.

  Just before she shifted, she suddenly had that quasi-excited yet vulnerable feeling that a woman has when she slips into some new lingerie, then waits for her man to come home to surprise him. As certain as it might be that he will like and be grateful for what he sees in the vicinity of T and A and leather and lace, sometimes all the woman can imagine is that he'll focus on her cellulite and stretch marks.

  Brandy knew that McEvans would definitely like what he saw (reptile-wise) but she still felt that quiver of nervousness. There was no time to indulge in that, however. She shifted, feeling the her skin crack into scales and her bones stretch lengthwise. Her jaw popped. It wasn't painful, although it was mildly uncomfortable at the onset. Brandy slipped into the water and swam back to where McEvans was. She kept a slow pace because she didn't want to startle him.

  McEvans scanned the surface of the water.

  As she drew closer, light on his helmet caught her red eye-shine. He pulled out his flashlight again for backup and waved it a couple of times to make sure that he indeed was in the presence of a gator and not something else. McEvans was standing right at the edge of the water. When he confirmed it was a gator, he gingerly backed up. Brandy/Shirley swam closer, floating as high as she possible could so he could see her length.

  McEvans squinted. He couldn't believe it. This was a gator of Shirley's size alright, but could it really be this easy? He had only been out there for 15 minutes.

  He and Brandy both had walkie-talkies, so he tried calling her on it.

  “Brandy – are you there? I think we've got her!”

  Brandy didn't answer. There was only a little bit of static. He didn't want to keep talking and spook the alligator in front of him. He still wasn't quite sure if this was Shirley.

  Brandy swam away from him now and waddled up dry land about four yards away from McEvans. She faced him directly and lay down.

  “Shirley?”

  He wasn't sure. He slowly walked forward. When he got closer, Brandy swung her tail around, but stayed put. With his flashlight on her now, he was 99 percent sure this was the right gator.

  “Why the hell did you run away?” he asked her. “You were injured. I was trying to take care of you. How would you feel about coming back?”

  Well,he told himself,Brandy had said that Shirley was a unique species, and that he should try to reason with her. Now, he was speaking with her as if he assumed Shirley understood English, which was ridiculous. What was more likely was that she could read body language and could assess someone by smell. So, McEvans figured that if he said what he really felt, maybe she would get some broad idea that he was trying to befriend her again.

  McEvans had brought a pack of chicken legs so that if they saw her, he could lure her with bait. He pulled out the chicken legs, ripped open the plastic, and tossed them to 'Shirley' one by one.

  Not a bad move, Brandy thought. She snapped up the chicken.

  “I'm in real trouble because of you,” he said. “I was supposed to be celebrating my anniversary tonight. My girlfriend and I have been together for two years.”

  Really? He blew off his girlfriend for me?Brandy thought. Wow.

  Brandy knew she had to do something to confirm for McEvans that she was indeed his favorite gator. While performing at Animal Sphere, she had perfected a timed snap, just far enough away from him so as not to do any damage, but close enough to make him and the audience jump. She would curl her self into the shape of a crescent moon, wag her tale twice, then snap. McEvans had begun to recognize when she was planning to snap, because of her body language.

  So Brandy did just that.

  First, she curled her body into a crescent moon.

  McEvans didn't get it yet. Lots of gators did this.

  Then she wagged her tale twice. And then she froze.

  McEvans locked eyes with her. A magnificent smile spread across his face, with his teeth subtly gleaming white in the dark.

  For the grand finale she snapped at him.

  “It really is you! I can't believe it!”

  McEvans tried to get Brandy on the walkie-talkie again with no luck.

  With a swish of her tail, Brandy/Shirley bolted for the water and swam off.

  “Shirley! Wait!” he called after her. “Damn it. DAMN IT!”

  He had been so close! McEvans was frantic, but he tried to calm himself down. At least he knew where she was now. He could come back. And she seemed to recognize him, which was promising.

  After a few minutes, Brandy reappeared. Her hair was soaking wet.

  “Where were you? I tried to contact you. Why is your hair wet?”

  “I went for a swim.”

  “In there? In the swamp in the dark?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I told you. I've been swimming with gators since I was a kid. Did you think I was lying?”

  McEvans looked at her incredulously.

  “Did you see her?” Brandy asked.

  “Uh – yeah! She was right here. But then she took off.”

  “Yeah, I got a read on her and then blocked her path so she had to head in your direction.”

  “You did?” McEvans asked.

  “Yeah,” Brandy said.

  “Well, she took right off.”

  “That's okay. We'll come back. But now you know she's here.”

  Brandy and McEvans walked back to their vehicles. Brandy pulled a towel out of her car, throwing it on her shoulder. She wound her long hair into a thick rope and then squeezed water out of it.

  It was an unexpected, unintended and understated sexy move.

  McEvans had to admit she had gorgeous hair. Healthy, dark and thick. And he also had to admit that this woman had some realcajones – metaphorically speaking, of course – jumping into an alligator-infested swamp like that.

  He had a strange urge to kiss her just then, as she continued to towel dry her hair. Where did that come from? He shook it off.

  It was true that McEvans had underestimated Brandy at first. She didn't look like an outdoorsy type of girl. But she had proven him wrong now at least a couple of times. Now he began tobelievethat maybe her parents reallydidtake her swimming with gators when she was kid, as sick and twisted and dangerous as that had to be. And if she was right about this unknown species of alligator, that alone was epic.

  McEvans knew, however, that a slight change in bone structure and difference in behavior wasn't enough to prove the evolution of an entirely separate species.

  That would take DNA testing.

  Chapter 13

  Jenny Guyette was a splash of gasoline on a grill when she lost her temper. She had Ray McAlister by the collar over the bar top, with a fist raised and pulled back, ready to punch.

  The two of them froze, sizing each other up.

  Then Ray bust a gut. He started laughing uncontrollably. Jenny was a 22-year-old, five-foot-two-inch little squirt and he was six-feet-four inches of prison-aged, grown-ass man.

  He put his hands up in mock surrender.

  “Just calm down, Jenny,” Ray said. “I've never hit a woman.”

  “I'll do it!” Jenny hissed.

  “Go ahead, if it makes you feel better.”

  Jenny clocked him. It had the effect of a feather instead of a strap across one's backside.

  “Wowey! That woke me right up!” Ray yipped, mocking her.

  Suddenly, Ray grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her over the bar top. Jenny tried to fight him, but there was no use. When he set her upr
ight on his side of the bar, she tried to scramble, but he grabbed her by the waist. He buckled her in with his left arm, while he dialed her cousin with his right.

  He got voicemail, which he usually expected, since Brandy avoided his calls whenever possible.

  “Brandy, honey, get your juicy ass over to my bar ASAP,” Ray said. “I've got a little hell-raiser here who says she's your cousin. I'm going to lock her in the storeroom until you get here.”

  Jenny tried for liftoff, with her legs flying in the air and the rest of her weight supported by a very patient Ray.

  Brandy showed up within 30 minutes. Jenny was, indeed, locked in the storeroom. When Ray unlocked the door for Brandy, Jenny flew at him jaws-first. She had shifted, and she had been lying in wait for him.

  Ray was too quick for her. He flew around, grabbed her by the tail, taunting Jenny a couple of times before jumping. He straddled her from behind and sat down, clamping her jaws shut with his meaty hands.

  “Hand me a rubber band, Sugar, will ya?” he said to Brandy.

  “Although tempting, I'm not going to let you tape Jenny's mouth shut,” Brandy said.

  “I'm not taping it,” he said. “I said I just wanted a rubber band – not duct tape!”

  “Fine.”

  Brandy fished around the storeroom and found a thick, large-size rubber band. Ray stretched it around Jenny's jaws.

  Yes, this was all it took to put a gator's jaws out of commission. The muscles that allow an alligator to open its jaws are very weak, so a rubber band really can do the trick. The problem is when a gator clamps its jaws shut. The muscles that allow a gator to clamp down are excessively strong. Thus the jaws can exert over 1,000 pounds of pressure when crunching on someone or something. “It's sort of like a woman's thighs,” Ray had once mused. “You know – there's a James Bond movie where some Russian chick can strangle a man to death by trapping him between her thighs. God that would be a good way to die.”