Daisy gave her best friend a sympathetic smile. “Are you going to…going to keep it?”
Kylie bit her lower lip and nodded her head. “It’s still early. My little bean is only a few weeks along. But yeah. I am. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw the little plus sign. I’ve already thought about it, and here’s the thing. I’ve worked my ass off in school to graduate early this December. I already submitted my application for Grad School and should be hearing back from them next month or so. If I get in I would start in January, and the baby would come in May, which means I’d have the entire summer to be a stay at home mom before going back to finish in the fall.”
“That’s all well and good honey,” Daisy replied. “But what about Brandon? He needs to know too. The baby is half his, and he needs to know what’s going on.”
“Yeah,” Kylie sighed, putting her hot forehead down on the cool surface of the table. “I know.”
CHAPTER 15
Brandon stared down at Kylie in disbelief, not sure of what he just heard. He had said his goodbyes to his parents at their home, and he and Kylie had gone alone to the airport. He had to catch his flight back to Germany. They had held hands and hugged and kissed, but as he had turned to go check in for his flight, Kylie had grabbed his arm and gave him the surprise of his life.
“A baby?” he echoed.
Kylie burst into tears as he said it. Shock was written all over his face and she knew that she had picked a horrible time to tell him about the baby.
“I’m sorry,” she rasped. “I didn’t mean to be so irresponsible,” she told him.
Brandon looked dumbfounded, and for a long two minutes he said nothing, and only stood there in disbelief. He had been expecting her to say she loved him, and but then surprise, a baby! A baby that they had created together.
“I messed up,” Kylie cried. “I should have spent these last weeks attached to you, but instead I pushed away and I’m so sorry. I love you, Brandon. I love you so much. Please, please don’t be mad at me,” she begged.
“Mad at you?” Brandon said, suddenly coming to life. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “There’s no way in hell I could ever be mad at you.”
Kylie felt a flood of relief wash over her as she felt his strong arms wrap around her. She leaned into his chest and let herself cry out her tears. It felt so good to tell him the truth, and knowing that he wasn’t furious with her had taken a huge load off of her mind.
“What are we going to do?” She asked when the tears finally stopped. “I mean, I can still go to school, and I can do this by myself if I don’t”-
Brandon put his finger up to her lips and shook his head no. “No way. I want to be here for you. For both of you. We’re going to do this together.”
“We are?” Kylie asked, her eyes lighting up with joy.
“Absolutely,” Brandon promised, bringing her into his arms again. “I love you Kylie. I love you so much. My eight-year contract ends in January,” he explained. “I’ll be home then, and when you graduate from grad school, I’ll go with you on your missions. We’ll save the world together. As a family.”
Love, appreciation, and happiness all flooded through Kylie as she felt a new wave of tears wash down her face. Brandon was no boy, no irresponsible lover. He was a man, her man, and he was going to do right by her.
They kissed a final time, and Brandon promised to call her as soon as he landed in Germany. After watching him board the plane, Kylie walked down to the parking lot and got in her car. A lot had happened over that fateful summer, and she would be forever changed. With her hand resting on her belly, she smiled and thought about the man she loved. She trusted him, and knew that when he said something he meant it. She only had to wait five months for him to come back. Five months, and her family would be whole again.
The BBW Stepmom
Gets Double Teamed
By: Naughty Nicole
The BBW Stepmom Gets Double Teamed
© Naughty Nicole 2016 – All rights reserved
Published by Steamy Reads4U
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it to the seller and purchase a copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Warning
This book contains graphic content intended for readers 18+ years old.
If you are under 18 years old, or are not comfortable with adult content, please close this book now.
Chapter 1
Lydia already saw the Alps and the Himalayas. She’d already been to the Caribbean and South America. She’d been on a cruise to Antarctica the year before, and every other continent in the world. She didn’t need expensive vacations or fake thrills, all she needed to do was get dolled up and head to the country club to satisfy her tastes.
She could sit on the terrace with a glass of wine and watch the waves hit the shore. She didn’t have to take the private jet to do that, and she didn’t want to. She was more of a homebody. She enjoyed simply things like a good movie and some good food. She liked having quiet evenings with her friends and just talking.
As the heiress to a billion-dollar tourism empire, she had expanded her horizons as far as they could be stretched. She put on a nice dress and admired her curvy body in the white sequins with her long blond hair and her Jessica Rabbit makeup. She was big, that was true, but she was beautiful. She grabbed a white fur boa and headed out the door to meet her driver outside the estate.
It wasn’t that she didn’t look good, it was that men didn’t enjoy real women. They wanted stick figures who ate carrots all day instead of good steaks. They preferred big fake titties to real womanly breasts. It was a shame. She would’ve loved to have somebody to share everything she had with. Her money was amazing, but at the end of the day, it was a lonely life.
The few men that did get with her, wanted her money, not her body or her heart, and she never had one sincere romance in her entire life. She was already 40, and had no idea where she was going to find somebody to love.
The country club was her release. It was her simple night out and she needed that. The driver set her in front of the curved driveway and she stepped one leg out and then another. The night air warm and she felt good. She had been lost in her thoughts all day, but tonight she was going to enjoy herself.
She walked into the decadently decorated reception room where a hosted smiled at her and noticed that there was a chalk board to the right saying, “Chef Du Jour Presented by Legendary Chef Harold Tramping.” Lydia had heard of Harold Tramping. His most recent restaurant, Ghol’s Terrace, had failed miserably when one of his cooks accidentally burned down the kitchen in a grease fire. Before that, he had the Hobbit Hole in the foothills, which was designed to look like a tiny Hobbit Hole. It did spectacularly until the entire place caved in and almost killed several patrons. Every one of his restaurants was faced with one disaster or another. She wasn’t sure whether to stay and take her chances, or run. The last thing she wanted this evening was to face the seven plagues or find a dead cockroach in her food.
She thought about it, though, and realized she’d never really heard about whether or not his food was any good. All she’d heard about was the massive disasters in his kitchen, which were never food related. It was quite possible that his food was really good. He wa
s probably just kind of clumsy or something.
The tiny brunette hostess was a size zero but somehow her boobs looked perfect and were at least double d’s. Lydia wondered how much that had cost her and whether or not she got better tips that way. The men in the restaurant certainly looked her way.
She wasn’t what it was about good bodies. She liked people based on their personalities, which seemed to be a rare trait in people. She decided that it something to do with what they wanted. Nobody wanted substance, they wanted a hole to fill, and that simply wasn’t any good. She couldn’t sit next to a pretty face that had nothing to say, it would bore her to death. She couldn’t imagine doing it for the rest of her life. Doing so would be objectifying anyway. It would always be about a piece of meat and whether or not it was formed properly.
The only meat that Lydia worried about was the meat on the table, at least that evening. She had no idea what the chef had in store. Chef Du Jour was when a new chef debuted their style by taking the menus off the table and offered a simply choice of dishes based upon the entrees. The soups and salads would always be the same, but the entree could be chosen based upon whether or not a person wanted lamb, duck, chicken, beef or pork. They didn’t usually have all of those choices, and they almost never used just the simple beef, chicken or pork, but they always had some interesting things to offer.
Fine cuisine is like any art. When a person enjoys the subject, then they do their best work. When a person is forced to do something they don’t enjoy, then it isn’t any good, at least not when they’re choosing what goes in it. Chef Du Jour was a chance for people to get to know a chef and see what he was best at, as well as sample his finest cuisine.
Many of the people who belonged to the country club chose to eat there instead cook every night so how well that night went decided whether or not the chef stayed on staff. Lydia loved to cook, but she did come to the country club quite often. She wondered what was in store for her. The entire restaurant was full so she decided that it was likely to be an interesting evening.
The hostess at her at her favorite table, which was right at the edge of the terrace with a view over the cliff so she could watch the waves crashing against the Pacific coast. The sun was setting and tiny glimmers of orange and yellow light were shining off the water. The dining hall was dark reds and burgundies with golden crown molding. Every table was lit with a single candle in the center. She felt like she stood out with her white dress. She liked to stand out. She didn’t think she was like everyone else, and she wasn’t. She like substance instead of materialism. She would’ve killed for a man across from her to talk to. Picking brains was a hobby of hers that she would pursue every chance she got if she could.
The hostess brought her a glass of water and went to go get the waitress to tell her the menu. She sat and looked out at the water. It seemed like these days she’d just been waiting for something to happen, even though it never really did. It was useless. She had just better find a hobby.
“Hello,” the waitress had bleached blond hair and orange skin, but she had yet to undergo any apparent surgeries. She was young. “Tonight is Chef Du Jour, we are showcasing dishes by our new head chef, Harold Tramping.”
“Yes. I saw.” She was getting a bit impatient. “What is he offering?”
“Well, there’s a nice chicken marsala with Portobello mushrooms and a truffle risotto. Our soup for the evening is shrimp pho or a Thom Yum which can be spicy or sweet. We also have a lamb biriyani made with couscous.” None of those sounded appetizing in the least. She hated all of the spices put in pho, it was simply too much and she could stand sour soups. She didn’t want it. Then there was the fact that he wasn’t offering a salad. She didn’t want chicken marsala. It reminded her of diarrhea and the idea of eating lamb biriyani with couscous instead of rice sounded terrible. What she did want, instead, was a nice steak. She would have to request it. They always had good filet mignon, and she was certain they had quite a few back there. They could easily just throw her on the grill there, and they usually gave her what she wanted because she paid and tipped well.
“Do you think, that if you told me them I was here, they might give me just a simple filet mignon, couscous and baked potato? I’m willing to pay more and wait.”
“Well, let me go ahead and ask and see what they say.” The waitress went back to the kitchen and stood in the door, so she could ask them about the steak. She just wanted to have a night out. She didn’t want to have to go back and make herself something, and she didn’t want to have to go somewhere else.
The waitress kept her head down and walked over to the table. “The chef says that they won’t give you filet mignon.”
“What? I’ve been getting custom orders for years, and I’m one of your best customers. Come tell him to speak with me personally.” The waitress seemed skeptical, but as soon as she walked up to the kitchen and told him he walked out. He was nice looking with blond hair and soft blue eyes. He had a good body, but with a little bit of a belly which she liked.
He sat down at the other side of the table and said, “Listen, I want to help you, but the restaurant is trying to up the ante. They only want me to make these shitty exotic dishes.”
She scoffed. “That’s gonna keep a lot of these people from coming here. Nobody wants that crap. Look,” she pointed to several tables where people had already left and another where a woman in a roller set was arguing with the waitress.
“I know. I told them. We’re going to switch back soon, but they want me to keep things like that for now.”
“I just want a steak. Can’t you put one on the grill for me. I mean, seriously, isn’t this about showcasing your style?”
“Tell you what,” he smiled at her and she began to blush. “Why don’t you come to my house in about two hours and I’ll cook you the best steak you’ve ever had.”
“Really?”
“I mean it.” His smile was getting wider and his eyes were searching all over her body. “I never want to keep a beautiful woman from a good meal.”
“Alright. Give me your address and your number. I’m gonna head home and change and text you when I’m ready.”
“Great.” He shook his butt mockingly, just enough for her to notice when she walked away. It was delicious. This was definitely going to be a wonderful evening.
Chapter 2
She wore a bright red dress with a slit going up just a little bit past the thing, bright red pumps and a nice diamond necklace that stopped well below the neckline. She just felt like dressing up. She wasn’t sure if she was going to a formal affair, and she didn’t care. She loved trying on pretty clothes and wearing nice things. That was one of the best things about being rich. She could enjoy the finer things in life, and clothes were definitely no exception.
Many of the things she wore were custom made. She had her own series of corsets that she wore to give her the proper shape. She had all of her dresses fitted to match her body, and she picked out all of the material and designs herself. She didn’t go to just any tailors either, she went to designers that were known for creating some of the most famous clothing labels in the world. Some turned her away, they didn’t appreciate her body type, but most were willing to create her into the living sculpture she deserved to be. She was a beauty. She was a classic Botticelli, and she didn’t mind showing it one bit when she showed up in her limo at the tiny cookie cutter house in southern end of the city.
Harry answered the door wearing a simple white button up and jeans. His house was just as simple. He didn’t like decorating much, she could tell. He had nice black leather couches and a great T.V. He definitely took pride in his electronics, and he took pride in his kitchen. With its all stainless steel appliances and black marble counter tops, it was a formidable room. She admired a man who could cook.
“Now,” he pointed to a stool near the bar. “You just have a seat and watch me work my magic.” She laughed and did as she was told.
He chopped up garlic and m
arinated the fillets in that and cracked black pepper, with a touch of salt. It was simple but looked effective. Then he chopped mushrooms and onions. He sautéed the onions and set the mushrooms aside. He worked silently. They didn’t need words. He was proving himself to her and she saw why. His seductive looks and roaming eyes spoke volumes. He liked what he saw and she did too. She wanted to get to know him.
“This is the best trick.” Everything was going perfectly and the last things left were the mushrooms. “What you do is you sauté the mushrooms in butter and really get them hot, with a little bit of salt and pepper, then you add a touch of whiskey,” once he did, the entire pan went up in flames and she jumped. He grabbed the pan and ran back, surprised, then he simply moved the pan around to flip the mushrooms. He looked back and grinned.
She found Harold to be one of the sweetest men she’d ever met. He cherished her, and cared for her. She stayed that night and went to his house for dinner every night thereafter. Their lives intertwined quickly, just like their hearts; it was a passionate romance that moved quickly and intensely. She’d never been in love before, and the shock of it, that sweet ecstasy, made her feel like she’d been born anew. She discovered another person fully, in a way that she never thought possible. She knew everything about his life, his friends, and she knew every single crevice on his entire body. She knew every dimple, every blemish, every wrinkle and she loved every single one. He knew just as much and loved her as fully as a man could ever love a woman. She had that partner to sit across from her at the table and connect with her.
He liked people of substance and depth. He saw the world as a place to be experience and enjoyed just like she did. He didn’t care about what was in her pocketbook. He’d spent most of his career catering to the rich, and he didn’t like most of them. He found them to be shallow ridiculous creatures who were led by greed. He was simple, just like she was. He was happy with his little house and the money that he made. He didn’t need to use the jet or wear ridiculously expensive clothes. He never asked her for anything, and insisted on paying for everything. His life revolved around making her happy and playing the gentleman. He was fiercely independent and hardly able to be pulled away from that. She could’ve given him anything he wanted, but he wouldn’t allow it.
Romance: Yes, Stepbrother! Page 7
