Free Curvy Girls Need Love (BBW Romance, Rock Star Romance) by Alexandrinha Abbott Page A

incredulity. Then I would have to explain myself. There’s nothing in
the world I hate more than having to explain myself, so I began to plot my
exit. Unfortunately, the waitress was nowhere to be seen, and I had yet to
receive my check.
    “I should have known you were a dancer. You’re so
graceful.” He leaned toward me. “You could say I’m a performer, too.”
    “Is that so?” I saw my waitress on the other side of
the diner and began signaling frantically for the check. Helplessly, I watched
as a high-maintenance drunk on the other side of the room caught her attention
and slowed her progress toward the place where I was trying to escape from the
enraptured gaze of the most handsome man I had ever seen.
    I couldn’t wait to get away from Stone. His flawless
beauty reminded me of my own imperfections. I prefer my men with a little more
meat on the bones. It was insurance that they wouldn’t get too cocky about my
own weight, which was none of their business anyway as far as I was concerned.
    “Have you ever heard of Shattered Bones?” he asked.
    “Shattered Bones?” I repeated. I was getting good at
this. If I lost interest in burlesque dancing, I could probably have a rewarding
career as a parrot.
    “It’s a band,” he explained. “I’m the drummer.”
    “Sorry, I don’t listen to that kind of music,” I
said.
    “I didn’t even tell you what kind of music we play,”
he protested.
    I turned my head to locate the missing waitress. She
had disappeared into thin air. If she didn’t reappear soon, I was going to find
her and throttle her with my bare hands. Leaving without paying had never occurred
to me. Guesstimating the bill and leaving the money on the counter didn’t occur
to me either. I was trapped there with the brutally handsome but somewhat
boring drummer of some band called Shattered Bones.
    “Well,” I said, “it was nice meeting you, but I have
to head home. It’s a long walk, especially in the middle of the night.” I was
still planted on my seat, waiting for my check, but I figured it was only a
matter of time before my waitress materialized.
    “I could give you a ride,” Stone said hopefully. He
placed a hand on my arm, drawing goose bumps from my skin. Then he slapped a
hundred-dollar bill down on the counter. “This should take care of everything,”
he said.
    Without preamble, he literally pulled me from my stool
and hauled me out of the diner just as a crowd of drunken girls poured inside.
They stared at him as if they had seen a ghost. I can’t say that I blamed them.
    Once we were outside, he pulled me into his arms and
kissed me hard on the lips.
    “I’ve been dying to do that since the moment we met,”
he said.
    I was shocked, but I wasn’t speechless. “We only met
less than an hour ago.” My voice was clear and steady, if a bit indignant. I
was rather proud of myself. There was nothing in my voice to give away the
pounding of my heart or the shaking in my knees.
    As I stood there, willing my traitorous legs to
start moving in the opposite direction of the old diner, a black limousine
pulled up alongside us and a uniformed driver disembarked. He opened the door
to the back seat and stood there waiting.
    “I forgot to tell you,” Stone said. “I’m kind of a
big deal.” He ushered me into the back seat of the limousine. I didn’t resist.
    The driver slammed the door shut behind us just in time.
The herd of tipsy girls who had filled the diner spotted the limo and poured
into the parking lot. I heard one of them yell, “I knew it was him,” as she
flung herself at the car door. Fortunately, the door was locked, and the driver
was quick.
    The limo pulled away as a crowd of faces pushed
against the mirrored glass of the rear windows, straining to get a peek of the
drummer of Shattered Bones, the same man who had somehow managed to work one of
his calloused hands under my blouse.
    “Hey,” I said. “I don’t know who you are, or who you
think you are, or