"Abby? Abby said he was a good guy?" Her sister's friend had the worst taste in men and was a serial divorcee at the age of thirty.
Her sister sighed, "It’s not like you'll ever find a prince in shining armor."
"What?" Hurt seized her heart, clenching it tight. Please don't say it… please...
"Meg, you’re a nice enough person, actually you're a wonderful person, but come on... not many guys out there are interested in heavier women." Mindy made a tsking sound and continued, "If you could lose some more weight, I know it would open up your dating pool."
"What?" This couldn't be happening, again. Ninety pounds! She'd lost and kept it off all without help or support, and still her sister didn't accept her? Self-restraint pressed down on her, tight and constricting. She couldn't breathe because of the pressure.
"Look, I'm not going to pussyfoot around with this, Meg. You could stand to lose at least fifty pounds. What are you, a size sixteen?"
Meghan reached over and disconnected the call. She wasn't a size sixteen. Her five foot, ten inch frame was a proportionate size twelve. She'd worked so damn hard. The tears in her eyes were clones of the ones she'd shed before. She swiped them away as they fell. Mindy remained matchstick thin after all her babies and even pregnant, she was all baby bump. Mindy took after her mother, all of five feet and a hundred pounds soaking wet. Her father had been a big guy, big boned and larger than life, and Meg had inherited his genes.
She stared out the windshield and fought hard to dam up the flood of emotions her sister's words had freed. But all the king’s horses... she sniffled and shook her head, slowing at her exit. She made it home on autopilot. Her feet carried her up the stairs to her apartment and into her bedroom. She kicked off her flats and pulled off her dress, tossing it toward the dirty clothes hamper. It took three minutes to wash her face, put on her workout clothes, and grab her keys. The dam was about to break. She could feel the walls shaking, and she couldn't be near the kitchen when it happened. She knew her old habits. She understood herself, and her sister and mother were triggers on the biggest guns she knew.
She power walked to the apartment's workout room and let herself in with her key. Muscle memory developed from countless visits turned the lights on and propelled her onto the treadmill. Currently, higher brain function and she weren't on friendly terms. Right now, she was running from her demons—the ones she'd fought and conquered. Only tonight the dead had turned into zombies, and they were chasing her. They wanted to consume her. All the glimmering hope of a wonderful evening flushed down the drain with a single pull. The flush was automatic. Her sister's words had once again stripped her bare and exposed her in a way no one but family could.
Meg cranked the belt to a 4.5mph jog and fixed her eyes on the corner of the room. She was stronger than this… normally. She had to believe her mother and sister had her best interests at heart, but neither had any idea how hard it was to lose and keep off the weight. She'd tried to tell them their words were sabotage and they hurt, but neither of them seemed to understand. They were 'helping' her by telling her she was fat; helping her with digs when she filled her plate, even though the food was healthy, and her calorie count for the day wasn't maxed.
Her mind flashed to a particularly painful memory of her sister and mother leaving for a day of shopping for those designer clothes they loved. They’d discouraged Megan from joining them because the stores they were shopping in didn't have 'fatty' clothes. She’d consoled herself by eating two pints of Rocky Road ice cream and then buried the empty cartons at the bottom of the outside trash can. Meghan cranked the tread up to 5.0. She hit the elevation, putting herself on a 2 percent grade. She wasn't that person any longer. She was strong.
She was strong enough to let this go. Was she strong enough to remove her sister and her mother from her life so she didn’t have to live through the emotional garbage they constantly pulled out of the dumpster of her past? Seriously, who knew?
To avoid her mother and her sister, she'd have to develop the hide of a rhinoceros. She'd use her job as a shield. It had always worked in the past. Her legs and lungs burned as she churned over the 'will dos' and 'won't dos' of her future. Maybe it was time to try surgery. Not in the traditional sense. No, it was time for a surgical removal of toxic words and comments and the people who spewed them. Her surgical plan was simple, elegant, and she could finally admit, it was long overdue.
Meghan slowed the tread to a walk after five miles and cooled down as she walked another mile. When she stopped the treadmill, she reached for her keys and phone. She deleted her mother's missed call notifications and all of her sister's texts. There were fifteen new ones since Meghan had hung up on her. No doubt chastising her for her lack of manners and telling her to face the fact she was fat.
Only she wasn't. She was healthy and a normal weight for her height. Her legs were muscled from running and her arms didn't jiggle any more. She did one hundred pushups every day. Her body was not made the same way her sister and mother’s were, but that didn't make her ugly or fat. That made her… her.
Meghan put her toe up on the bed of the treadmill and leaned forward, stretching her warm muscles. The phone vibrated on the rubber pad. She groaned and rolled her eyes. Her sister was going to have black bags under her eyes tomorrow. A small satisfied smile may have made a brief appearance before Meg beat it back. No, she wasn't like them. Accepting people as they were was one lesson she'd learned. In reality, she'd have to thank her family for teaching her how important it was, because it was the one thing they'd never been able to do.
She closed her eyes and continued her stretching. Sweat trickled against her skin, reminding her of what she'd accomplished tonight. She'd made a negative into a positive. She'd stopped a person she loved from hurting her, and she had every right to do that. Every right.
Her phone vibrated again. Meghan groaned and cracked her eye open to glare at the device. Only instead of Mindy's name on the notification, it had a telephone number. She lifted out of her stretch, taking the phone up with her as she straightened. 619 area code? A tingle of excitement skittered through her. Could it be?
She thumbed the screen and waited for facial recognition to unlock the phone. Of course, it didn't work, because hey, when you're sweaty from a workout, that's when you want to key in your four-digit number. Yeah, let's smear the screen with our sweat. Meghan's little mental cheerleader was going to it with the pompoms. Yay me. She had to key her code in twice, because she was excited and fat fingered the code the first time.
She finally got into the phone and hit the text icon. She tapped the phone number.
>Hey, I know it probably isn't 'cool' to text so soon, but I had a great time tonight. Thank you for staying to have dinner with me. Would you like to do it again sometime?
Her smile was so wide it hurt her cheeks. She held the phone to her chest and looked up at the ceiling, past it in reality, channeling all of her thanks and happiness and doing a mental happy dance. Rio had texted her.
Her hands trembled as she laughed and replied.
>Who is this?
The bubbles immediately started, then stopped. They started again and bubbled for some time before they stopped. She waited, but there was nothing. Oh crap, had she ruined her one chance? She typed out a quick message.
> Joking. I'd like to see you again.
There was a brief moment before the bubbles started popping up.
>Not cool. For that you can buy me dinner.
She smiled and sat down on the side of the treadmill while she replied.
>Deal. Would it be uncool to ask you for dinner tomorrow? She wasn't sure of the dating protocol thing because, let's face it, she didn't have second dates.
>Probably, but I'm okay with being 'that guy'.
Thank goodness. She was okay with being ‘that girl’, too. She tapped out a response.
>Seven. Meet me?
>Let me pick you up?
>Sounds good.
Oh, it sounded better than g
ood. It sounded heavenly. She texted her address to him and waited as he replied.
>Thank you, again. I had a wonderful night.
She smiled and added a happy face to her response.
> :) Me too. Night. Her hands were still shaking as she hit send.
>Night. Sleep well
Meghan hugged the phone to her chest and smiled. Oh, she'd sleep very well tonight.
Chapter 6
Rio stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling fan. The morning light crept around his drapes and was just a bit too obnoxiously bright. Rude bastard. He was giving himself the day off. Tomorrow he'd return to his daily exercise routine. He pulled his phone from the bedside table and like a putz re-read the text convo he'd had with Meg last night. He'd almost shit a brick when she'd responded with a 'Who is this?'
He'd played the numbers over and over in his head. He knew he had the right digits. It occurred to him she might be blowing him off, but hell, he didn't get that kind of vibe off her. She was… hell, she was real, warm, and sexy as all fuck. He'd had a great time. Best time in years.
He could get lost in her eyes, and the sweet as fuck blushes that frequented her face were something he'd like to see again. Unexpectedly, his surprise blind date had put on metaphoric boxing gloves and done a TKO on his ass. It had been a long time since he hadn't waited a couple days before reaching out. Did that make him needy? Probably, but Meg seemed okay with it.
He groaned and rolled over, not entirely on board with the whole wakey-wakey thing the sun had going on. It had been years since he'd slept in without the need to get up, train, and get to work. A shadow of loss crept through him. He wondered how long it would take before he stopped waiting for the call or text from the Skipper telling him to report. He'd turned the page on that chapter of his life. Yeah, he had things he had to do today, so he'd shelve the whole “what the fuck have I done” soundtrack and focus on what he needed to accomplish.
Reaching out to his realtor was first on his list of must-dos. An apartment of his own had bumped from somewhere around the middle of the list to the top of the heap last night. Right after he'd finished texting with Meg. Yeah, a place to take her after dates was going to be necessary.
The second issue wasn't going to be nearly as easy. He rolled onto his back and flicked off the sheets before he got up, free-balling it to the shower. The twelve heads spurted to life at the flick of the controls. He used the facilities and strode into the shower. The rain heads and side jets soaked him with warm water as he closed his eyes and marveled at the difference fourteen days made. Two weeks ago, he'd been all bent up under his apartment’s bathtub-shower combo. The old apartment had an ancient hot water heater, and it was mandatory to let the water run for at least five minutes before hot water made it to the shower head fixed on the wall at a soaring six feet from the base of the tub. He’d whacked his cheekbone on it more than once.
He grabbed the soap, lathered up, and thought about his conversation with Meg last night. Or rather her rant about the wealthy. She made a valid point. Living like this, was… excessive. But it was all his parents had ever known. His mother came from old money just like his dad. That didn't make them stuck up asswipes like some of the people he'd met. No, his folks were good people. Hell, they'd let him chase his dreams. He knew families that would have disowned children for even thinking of rocking the family business boat.
It took willpower not to call Meg last night. He figured he was pushing the desperate envelope with the texts. Her smiling face flashed across the Imax theater of his mind. He was in the right place, wearing the right clothes, at the right time last night. His stars aligned and all that shit.
Lucky him. He wanted to see where things would go with her. She intrigued him, and fuck… all those beautiful curves. The woman was a woman, not a stick with a bobble head attached.
He gripped his cock with a soapy hand and forced himself to wash, not stroke. He wasn't going to beat off to the image of her smiling face. No, if he was going to bust a nut, it was going to be when he was with her, and he was willing to wait for that privilege. His cock disagreed vehemently with his decision, but his cock had been neglected before, it could deal.
He jumped out of the shower, not allowing himself to linger and tempt his wayward libido, roaming hands, and rushing fingers. Instead he would grab something to ward off starvation and then make his calls. The realtor was a simple task. His brother, well, that was a battle, and he needed to put on his mental flack vest. He was about to engage the enemy, and he had no idea when or why his brother had tagged him as the enemy. Best they get the initial salvos fired before his parents got home.
Rio strode through the corridors of the almost vacant office building. He'd seen a couple people as he waited for the elevator. A man wearing khakis and a polo gave him the side eye as they rode up on the elevator together. Rio gave the guy a nod, and the man made quick work of studying the buttons that lit up as they ascended.
He glanced down at his old jeans, with rips at the thighs and knees, a Henley that had seen better days, but fit him well, and a pair of broke-to-hell combat boots that were also the most comfortable footwear in existence. Okay, so he wasn't sporting the coastal casual vibe here, but he'd worn worse. He wasn't getting a warm, welcoming 'hey, how you doing' attitude from the office worker next to him, that was for sure. It was more like the 'I hope like hell he doesn’t rob me' vibe. Whatever.
His elevator companion vacated the car four floors from the top, which was where Rio was heading. He pushed the button to close the doors. He didn't need or want any company to the top floor. What he needed was to get his head straight before confronting his brother. His very successful, very condescending, very judgmental brother. The brother who hated him. Dammit, if he could go back in time and make different decisions, he would, but hindsight was 20/20 and he had no way of knowing one night would cause irreparable damage to their relationship.
The elevator stopped at the top floor and a woman in slacks and a silk shirt waited until he exited, all the while, giving Rio a side eye. Damn, what was it about him today? He stepped out, and she stepped in just before the elevator door closed. Was she afraid he was going to change his mind and re-enter the elevator? He shook his head. He hadn’t realized how judgmental people were, or maybe he hadn’t cared to look before. He cast a quick look up and down the vast hallway to make sure he was alone. He lifted an arm and sniffed his pits. Nope, fresh as an Irish spring morning. Whatever.
Being in the office building reminded him of the times he’d come in with his dad when he was younger. The thrill of being in the thick of the business had never been there for him. He did well in school and excelled in anything athletic, but he wasn't cut from the corporate mold like his older brother Mason.
Mason received academic scholarships to five different Ivy League colleges. Rio tried to reach the scholastic excellence his brother achieved, but his star never rose as high or burned as bright as Mason North's brilliance. He decided his sophomore year in high school to stop trying to reach that which was unachievable. When the military recruiters for the service academies visited their boarding school that year, Rio was immediately drawn to the idea of life in the military. He understood rules, directions and guidelines. He liked working as part of a team, and the more he heard, the more he thought. He listened to every word the recruiters said the following year, and he took a business card from each of the representatives when they left. One thing he knew? He didn't want to go to college. School wasn’t his thing. He turned to the internet and the school library, and he researched his options.
Rio glanced at the brass directional plaques on the far wall and turned right. Well, wasn't that something. A new glass wall blocked off half the floor. The Northern Nova Enterprise logo was etched into the glass. The damn thing had to be fifty foot across and stretched from floor to ceiling. The etching gave a sense of division between the outside and the in, but what really separated the two was the environment behind the
etched glass. Everything dripped of money once you passed the see-through division. He’d never really noticed it when he was younger. But after twelve years of service, for the most part living on the paycheck he earned rather than family money, he'd learned a different way to look at things.
He took in the rich mahogany wood furniture, lush plants, gold planters, and marble floors. Rio recognized a huge work of art placed as a focal point in the center of the lobby area. DeRubeis. The man's work in the metal medium was one of his father's favorites. There were three originals at home, but this one was… spectacular and massive. The reds and golds were visually arresting.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
Rio damn near jumped out of his skin. He'd been lost in the art and hadn't heard anyone come into the lobby.
The mouse of a man beside him gave him a quick, uneasy smile. "May I point you in the right direction? We aren't currently open for… sightseeing?"
Rio chuckled and scratched his beard as his eyes moved to the DeRubeis again. "While I enjoy Chris Derubeis' work, I probably wouldn't come in on a weekend to view it. I was heading to my brother's office."
Rio spun and headed to the executive wing of offices.
"Sir, excuse me, who exactly is your brother?"
Rio stopped and turned but didn't say a word. His brother stood behind the man whose nose was twitching under his glasses. Okay, so he was a rabbit, not a mouse.
"Unfortunately, Hampstead, that would be me." His brother's voice about gave the little guy a heart attack. The man startled and jumped out of his brother's way. "Sir? You're his brother?"
"So, they tell us." Rio answered as his brother’s hazel eyes swung to meet his.
"Come with me." Mason rotated on his heel and walked away. Rio glanced at the office with Mason's name on it and then at his brother's back as he tracked down the hall. Fuck it. He followed.
There was a time Rio would have given the world to hear those words. To be included in Mason's plans would have thrilled him for weeks. He'd hero worshiped his brother. His sun rose and set on Mason North. He tried to emulate his big brother at every turn. If Mason jumped his BMX off the ramp, Rio tried it. He broke his arm trying, but Mason said he was tough, and that made the six weeks in the cast worth it. Hell, Rio had even worn the same kind of clothes as his brother. He popped his polo's collar and wore khakis just like Mason. In everything, he tried his best to be just like his older brother. The only thing Rio couldn't duplicate was Mason's intelligence.
Hot SEAL, Savannah Nights Page 5
