Red Velvet: A BBW Romance (The Cass Chronicles Book 5)

by Susannah Shannon

  Libby came into the kitchen carrying a box of supplies. When she wasn't busy making Cass feel inadequate, Libby was the town pharmacist. She took one look at the quiet man splayed out on the table, “Do you suspect a brain injury?”

  “No. He passed a neurocognitive screening. He’s floppy because I’ve given him an injection of morphine.”

  Libby, for the first time in as long as Cass had known her appeared surprised. “You carry morphine?”

  Kimberly nodded. “Yes, but I always thought I might need it for him.” She lifted her chin towards her son the professional skateboarder. She turned back to the task at hand. “Now then, I’ve gotten him nice and loose.” As if to confirm this, Ed’s head lolled on the table. “We are going to have to do this manually.”

  Amelia said, “Shouldn't we get him to the hospital?”

  “It would be better not. I can get it back into joint. The longer we wait, the greater the risk of nerve or tissue damage.” Amelia nodded. His daughters came in and burst into tears at the sight of him. Mr. Doctor directed the girls over to their father’s non-injured side.

  Chelsea buried her face in his chest. “Oh, Daddy. Daddy I love you so much. I know what you did.”

  Ed gave a small smile. “Shhh. It's our secret,” he whispered drunkenly.

  The married doctors were all business. “Right. Now then, young man, if I can rely on your extraordinary trapezius muscles for a bit longer.”

  She directed the other young men. “Killian you lay over his legs, Torsten, you go here.” She showed him how to lie over the injured man’s torso. “Hold him still.”

  She gently lifted the injured arm and showed Danny where to put his hands, one on the wrist, one pressed against the armpit. She ran her hands over the injured joint. “Now, I’ve limited the pain, but we still have to overcome his reflexes. Daniel, when I tell you, you will use one hand to push up under his arm and the other to pull his wrist straight down. I’m forcing the large head of the ball and socket joint up and over the other bones. It will pop right in, but not till we get it where it belongs. You will need all of your prodigious strength.” The giant man nodded.

  “All right gents. On three,” the doctor said, “One, two…” Killian and Jacko pressed down over the older man with all of their weight to prevent him resisting the doctor’s manipulation. “Three.” Danny pulled. A painful groan escaped from Ed’s lips. “Don't stop now,” exhorted Kimberly. The pulling continued and as soon as some space opened up in the joint, the doctor’s skilled hands slipped the elbow back into place, with a resounding pop. The unusual noise echoed around the kitchen and made Cass a bit seasick. The patient gave a shudder.

  “It’s a nervous reflex, sort of like a reboot. Don't worry,” offered Lindsay.

  “There we are,” said Kimberly with obvious satisfaction.

  Lindsay pressed his stethoscope against Ed’s wrist. “Excellent job, darling! Look—those fingernails are pinkening up a treat.”

  Cass could only assume that “a treat” was some sort of Aussie slang for “well.”

  “Will he be in pain long?” asked Amelia.

  “No. I am going to splint it to let the ligaments heal, but he will feel almost himself when he wakes up in the morning.”

  Amelia threw her arms around the Australian doctor. “Thank you, thank all of you.”

  Amelia hurried ahead to turn down the bed and Danny carried the ambassador to their cottage.

  CassCooks Blog post

  The cheekiest of Cheddar’s

  Fondue has a certain recherche’ charm. It is what those of us who did not grow up going on ski holidays think of as the most common après’ ski sustenance. These days, I suspect a burger and fries are more common. The trick to a fondue party is that you need several fondue pots or crockpots. There is no good way for a large group of people to cluster safely around one fondue pot that is holding molten drippy cheese. You can do lots of fun things with it—the traditional made with Emmanthaler and kirsch, or a Tex-Mex version with jalapenos and Monterey jack. We are heading towards the sharp cheddar and dry white wine end of the neighborhood. Of course, there is also the meat fondue that relies on a pot of boiling oil, and most delicious it is too, but not what we are doing today. We will provide cubes of bread, crisp Braeburn apples, blanched cauliflower and broccoli and rounds of smoked sausage for dipping. A dry hard cider is the perfect drink.

  After a leisurely round of dunking and dipping and drinking, I will put out dark chocolate fondue. With the chocolate I will offer, strawberries, pound cake, bananas and homemade marshmallows. The perfect drink with chocolate fondue is more chocolate fondue.

  This kind of gathering is delicious. Cass

  Cass did not know how to address Ed’s injuries on her blog, so she just didn’t. She served dinner. Everyone was somewhat subdued, but the assurances that the father of the bride would make a speedy and full recovery helped restore their spirits. Cass had come dangerously close to underestimating how much fondue people could eat. She hadn't of course, but she’d been closer than she liked. She was loading the dishwasher when Amelia came in through the door, carrying some plates. “My daughters brought me some dinner, it was the most delicious fondue I have ever had. Ever.”

  There was nothing to do but hug. “It’s going to be the most gorgeous wedding ever.” Cass said. Heaven clearly intended to do its part—several inches of perfect snow fell during the night. She tried to sleep, heavens knew she would need it the next day, but her brain kept turning details over and over She got up to make sure she had some CDs of classical wedding music. She hoped Isabelle might be up to playing something, but wanted a backup plan in case it was needed. She made a few lists for herself and rejoined Killian in bed. She wasn't tired yet, but she thought she knew how she could get tired. She sat up and tossed off her pajama shirt and shimmied off her pants. She nestled up against him and ran her hand under his tee shirt. He was always so warm. She walked her fingers up his chest and circled her fingers around his nipple. The catch in his breath told her that if he were still asleep, he wouldn't be for long. She moved a leg over the top of his, allowing the soft flesh of her inner thigh to rub over his rapidly stiffening cock. His eyes were still closed, but he was rigidly erect when she straddled him and drew him within her. She rocked back and forth, touching her clit. Killian’s strong grip on her ass cheeks told her he was fully awake. “Come for me, baby,” he whispered. Usually being with him made orgasming as easy as falling, and Cass was very good at falling. It eluded her this time. She couldn't quite get there. Sensing her struggle, Killian rolled her over and lifted her ankles over his shoulders. He ground his pelvis up against her after every deep stroke, igniting her inflamed clit. Gratefully she felt the dam break and she came, digging her nails into his arms. Now, she could sleep.

  She awoke at the crack of dawn. She needed to get in the kitchen. Killian was putting fresh batteries in his largest flashlight.

  “I've got to get back to the skiing trails. I lost my Swiss army knife.”

  “I don't think I've ever known you not to carry it.”

  “My dad gave it to me for my fourteenth birthday.”

  “Oh, honey, I hope you find it.”

  “Me too.” They shared a quick kiss and went their separate ways. Cass tossed the crab salad. She seasoned the beef tenderloin. There were two cakes—both elegant and simple looking. Instead of a “groom’s cake” and a “bride’s cake” Jacko and Chelsea had opted for a red velvet cake iced in creamy white. Cass moved it onto a glass cake stand and mounded rock sugar around the edge. The sugar sparkled and shone. The tall elegant layers were adorned with spun sugar pinecones. The other cake had the same graceful shape but was a caramelized vanilla cake with a salted caramel buttercream cloaked in dark chocolate ganache. A single perfect red peony crafted of sugar paste was its only decoration. The silver coffee service would be in the center of a long table with a cake at either end. Cass used toothpicks to cover tall Styrofoam cones with perfect fresh stra
wberries. They added a splash of color and mirrored the shape of the Christmas trees.

  She used a mandolin to create paper-thin slices of potato. She would make golden brown potatoes Anna (a domed sort of potato pancake) and cut them into generous wedges. This would look awesome on the plate next to rosy slices of beef tenderloin. She seasoned roasting pans of minute, delicate baby radishes and carrots.

  She went over the details with the staff she had hired for the event. Her notes were clear and she had even done a practice run through of the exact menu—although on a smaller scale. There was no reason to be concerned. She was though.

  Cass stood in the shower and let the hot water pour over her. She tried to take deep breaths and be calm. She failed. A sharp rap on the bathroom door startled her. It was Virginia. “Be out in a sec,” she called and turned off the water. She rubbed her hair with a towel and wrapped herself in her robe. Cass was still running over details in her head while Virginia used a blow dryer on her hair. There had been a fight at Yukon Sam’s, the local bar. Virginia seemed to know all the details. Cass was only partly paying attention. “That might be how they do it in Boston, but around here…”

  Cass held up her hand to ask Virginia to turn off the dryer. “What about Boston?”

  “Well, that's where that guy is from. The one with the giant guitar.”

  Cass would never get used to Slick Trenchians. She gestured that the dryer could go back on. The brush moving through her hair was soothing. She could not get back to concentrating on her list. Something about what Virginia had said. She held her hand up again. “There is a guy from Boston in Slick Trench? And he has a big instrument?”

  Virginia continued. “Yes, its huge, and the girl has a violin and the other guy has the same sort that Isabelle has.”

  “Wait, that’s a string trio. From Boston? Here? Are you sure?”

  Virginia blithely continued, “Yes, but they were leaving today. Kind of weird to come here for two days this time of year. But some lady paid for everything. Their tickets had been bought earlier, but someone called to cancel. They just needed to stay in town and then leave today.”

  It struck like a lightning bolt. “There wasn't a storm in South Carolina!” she exclaimed.

  “Huh?” asked Virginia. Chelsea had pretended that the trio had been detained by weather so that Isabelle could play at her wedding. She had wanted a drink because she had thought she was about to be found out. Instead, her father had covered for her. That’s what Chelsea had meant when she had wept, “I know what you did.” Cass could not stop smiling.

  CassCooks Blog post

  The wedding of Chelsea and Jacko managed to be elegant and personal. I can't wait for you to see the show about this wedding (airing February 7th on the White Gown Network).

  Cass could not have been happier with the way everyone looked. Chelsea looked like a goddess. The simple dress flattered her. The dainty wreath of snow berries (Amelia was pleased that it did contain some lily of the valley) crowned a soft braided updo. Over the entire thing Kimberly’s simple lace veil lay. Cass had never seen a veil laid over the headpiece like that, and it was breathtaking. Cass made a point of mentioning within Amelia's hearing that the pearls were stunning, which was not a lie. It was only when the music started that Cass realized that she had totally forgotten to follow up with anyone about the music. Dammit, she could kick herself. She hurried downstairs, guests were filling the lodge and chatting with Jacko, Banjo and the Aussie Docs. Isabelle was already up by the fireplace. Her dress was of a pale grey silk that in some light looked silver. A halo of scarlet blooms circled her pale blonde head. Like her sister, a loose bohemian braid trailed down one shoulder. Unlike her sister, she was playing Pachelbel's Canon in D. Cass hovered at the top of the stairs in case the bride needed anything. She did not. Chelsea came down the stairs between her parents. Ben maneuvered his camera so that he could capture their descent without being in their way. Cass took the scene in with pleasure.

  The gents wore grey morning suits with a brilliantly red ranunculus in the buttonhole. Fires were going in the fireplaces. The Christmas trees twinkled and sparkled.

  Cass settled into seat in the very back next to her handsome husband. “Hi, baby,” she whispered. “Did you find your knife?”

  He shook his head. “Too much new snow.”

  “Maybe you can find it in the spring?”

  He shook his head sadly. “By then it will be so rusted it will be ruined.”

  The vows had been said and the rings exchanged. After the kiss, Cass noticed a very large, dapperly dressed figure moving towards Isabelle. As Danny and Isabelle sang a duet, Cass began to smile. It wasn't just the music was a truly perfect cover of True Colors by Cyndi Lauper. It wasn't just that Chelsea looked radiant and Amelia appeared madly in love with her husband and proud of both her daughters. It was more than that. She knew exactly what she was getting Killian for Christmas.

  The Bullwinkle Balliwick

  The staff Cass had hired did a magnificent job. Cass was able to actually eat dinner with the guests. She turned to her husband. “This is the best wedding I have ever done.”

  “You say that every time.” He laughed. “Just like Hazel says that each Christmas tree is the best one we've ever had.” Saying that seemed to remind him of something. “Excuse me for a second, babe.” Cass took advantage of his stepping away for a minute to pursue her own agenda.

  She tried to look nonchalant as she approached the strongest man in Alaska.

  “Danny can you help me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you know anyone who has a metal detector?”

  “Oh sure, Travis has one.”

  “Oh. I need to borrow one, but I need it to be a secret, and I need it really soon.”

  You had to love Alaskans, Cass thought for the umpteenth time. They just didn't ask questions. Danny laughed. “I’ll tell him to be stealthy.”

  The cake was cut, the champagne was drunk and the dancing went on for hours. By moonlight the photographer managed to get the picture of Chelsea’s dreams. She was standing on skis in her wedding dress and Jacko and his snowboard were whizzing around her.

  Cass stopped by the kitchen to oversee the clean up. As she walked through the kitchen a slip of paper was slipped under the door. C- Danny texted me. I understand you need to be quiet about this. It’s old but it works. You just have to push the button until it comes on. It’s outside of the main gate. Only her cousin by marriage, the mayor of Slick Trench, could possibly think that this note stuck under a door to a kitchen full of people was “stealthy.”

  It was very nearly morning before the party broke up. Cass had availed herself of several cups of strong coffee. She and Killian slowly walked towards their cozy bed. Cass was fairly certain that she would be a singularly bad spy. She changed into some leggings and a sweatshirt and tried to lie next to her husband and not fall asleep. Killian had fallen deeply asleep and it was no longer truly dark. Cass crept out. She crept back in. She took a fan from the hall closet and snuck into their bedroom, ready to claim that she was hot if he woke up. He did not, so she turned the fan on and slipped out. Maybe, she thought, I would be a great fucking spy. She was banking on the fan masking the sound of the snow machine that she loaded up with the metal detector. Travis had not been kidding about it being old. It was clunky and rusty and would have been an old model when Cass was born. She headed out for the trail, using the code to shut the gate behind herself. She found the trail marker where Amelia had said Ed had been hurt. She climbed off the snow machine and set to divining the resting place of Killian’s knife.

  It took her several minutes to figure out the power switch. She was pretty sure she had it turned on. The words “on and off” had long since disappeared. She moved all the way to the next marker and then turned around. The machine was heavier than she had anticipated. She swung it back and forth over the snow. Nothing. How could there be nothing on the trail that was metal? She kept trying. Soon, her ar
ms ached and even in the cold she was getting sweaty. She was discouraged. It had been a good thought, but she was back to not having anything for Killian for Christmas. She awkwardly tucked the metal detector under her arm and trudged back towards the snow machine. The morning twilight had begun and she could see more clearly. There were large tracks that lay parallel to the trail. Cass hesitated. She stepped to the other side of the trail and pressed herself back among the trees. They were not wolf tracks. That was a small comfort. Killian had told her that moose were dangerous if you surprised them. She was pretty sure they were moose tracks. But she had no idea how recent they were. She took another step back. It was the chewing she heard first. Directly behind her. She turned as slowly as she could, trying to stay calm. “Please don't trample me to death, Moose” she whispered. “All I wanted was to find Killian’s—that’s my husband-Swiss army knife.” The moose was enormous. Cass was struck by the width of the antlers. Her whispering seemed to calm the creature, either that, or he was getting ready to lower his head, pick her up with those antlers and throw her to her painful and gruesome death. It could go either way, she thought. “His dad gave him that knife. I never met his dad. I wish I had.” The moose lowered his head. Cass dove back towards the trail to make a run for it. She was fairly certain that this was a race she would lose. She heard the moose crashing through the brush. Her boot caught on a root and she fell hard into a cluster of pine trees. Her senses were overwhelmed, she had no idea that fear could do that to you. She could hear a harsh wailing in her ears. She must have bumped her head and made her eyes photosensitive since blue light seemed to be glaring off the snow. Were you supposed to play dead, or fight a moose? Through the wailing cutting through her skull, she was aware of thundering hoof beats. She was expecting to feel hooves crushing her spine. Instead they seemed to be fading. Maybe she had been killed and hadn't noticed it. Maybe she was fading from this life, along with the waning hoof beats. She opened her eyes and peeked over her elbow. The moose had run away. Lights still flashed. That damnable noise showed no signs of fading. She had fallen onto something bulky and painful. Catching her breath, she remembered the metal detector. She found the power switch on the awkward machine and fiddled with it until she managed to turn it off. The horrific noise and startling lights stopped immediately. A blessed peacefulness descended upon the trial. Sitting up she breathed a prayer of thankfulness that the machine had inexplicably gone off and scared the moose away. Getting up was awkward; she was already sore from her hard fall. Standing up, something red caught her eye. She was entirely too sore to bend, so she used the toe of her boot to move the nudge the snow away from small crimson oblong object. She had found Killian’s knife.