Eleanor Gremillon
Ireally didn’t think today could get any worse. I have spent the last two hours trying on lingerie that costs a pretty penny and none of it fits me. I pick up the offending garment and hold it out. There is no fucking way this is a 2x. No fucking way. I huff. How the hell am I supposed to sell these in my store if they aren't true to their size?
Being the owner of the Palais de Plaisance, the only plus size lingerie boutique in the French Quarter, I pride myself in making sure that all sizes are guaranteed. This is what I get for buying from a new distributor. I chuck the underwear on the floor and go to grab another pair trying to wiggle my thick ass into the pair that says 2x but has to be an XL.
“God damn, mother fucking fuck,” I screech out. This is what I get for thinking today couldn't get any worse. First, my car decided to laugh at me when I tried to turn it on this morning. When I say laugh, I really mean it chug, chug, coughed then just died. It really did sound like it fucking laughed at me though. After two more tries and fifteen minutes later she finally started.
Second, by the time I got to the boutique I was late for the deliveries. So late that one of the delivery guys literally just left all the boxes on the side of the building. I had to pay the other guy more money just so he would help me bring them in. I learned that chivalry is dead.
Third, after a super fucking long day at work, I get an Uber home. I was very much looking forward to a nice hot bath and a huge glass of wine, but no. When I went to get the tub going the thing just like broke off in my hand. When I first moved in, I wondered why the rent was so low for such a big house. Em said that it was because it needed updates and remodels, and boy does it. I had to call Em and tell her what was going on. She told me that it couldn't get fixed until tomorrow and while there is a hell of a lot more bathrooms in the huge house, the master bath is the only one that has a tub big enough to cover my boobs and knees at the same time. Finally, the stupid mislabeled underwear just topped off my fucking day.
The knock on the door was just the icing on the day. Great, I did not feel like peopling. I thought that maybe if I ignored it, whoever was there would just go away. After a few seconds, there was another knock. Fuck, I grabbed my robe and marched my not so happy ass down the hall and opened the door only to come face to face with the sexiest man I had ever fucking seen.
It took everything in me not to pant just looking at him. He had to be at least 6'4 with dark brown hair and even darker eyes. I had let my gaze shift down his body. His shoulders and chest looked like they were trying to escape his tight black shirt. I don’t know much about baseball, but it looks like it treated him well. He has a full sleeve on one side that looks like tribal ink and another hint of ink poking out from the other side. He smiled and I swear to God my ovaries exploded. I have never in my life been this attracted to a man. Right now, all I want to do is run my fingers through his beard and see if it's as soft as it looks then I want to run my hands down his hard body. Yum.
What does one do when meeting the sexiest man alive? She kicks her sass into full gear and adds a little flirtation with it. I may or may not have added a little sway to my hips as I walk him to the master bedroom. I was doing just fine until I remember all the panties on the floor. Shit. I blush and bite my lip. Keep it cool Elle, it's all good. I tell myself after I leave him in the bathroom. I practically run to the kitchen, that is until my boob pops out. I gasp looking down.
Oh, my fucking God! Did I just meet the hottest man alive in nothing but my fucking robe? I've never been naked with a man. It's not like I'm a prude or anything. I just haven't had the urge to have a man pop my cherry, but I am seriously reconsidering that with the sexy man in my bathroom. After I hand him his soda, I grab a pair of yoga pants and one of my old baggy shirts then head to the hall bathroom to get dressed. I pull my hair into a messy bun and look at myself in the mirror. This is as good as it's going to get.
I might be plus size, but I fucking love my body. It took me years to be okay with it. Years to be comfortable in my own skin. That is one of the reasons I own the boutique. I want every woman, no matter their size, to feel beautiful. I walk back into the bedroom and go about picking up the underwear I have thrown everywhere after they are all picked up, I put them in the box. I walk over to the bathroom and knock on the door jam.
“Hey, Beau. Would you like to stay for dinner?” His head jerks up from where he is working, and he smiles with perfect white teeth that kicks my hormones into overdrive.
“I’d love to.” I smile.
“I’ll let you know when it is done.” I go into my well-stocked kitchen and set about making some Cajun chicken pasta. It's one of my favorites because it is easy and I fucking love spicy food. I grab the chicken out of the fridge, some red onions, and some mushrooms. After I get the noodles going, I go about cooking the chicken and mixing the veggies.
“Can I help with anything, chérie?” I gasp and turn around to see Beau casually leaning against the counter. I blush at his heated stare.
“Nope. I'm almost done. I just need to plate it up. Would you like a beer or some wine?” He shakes his head.
“I’ll take a beer if you have one.”
“Sure. I have fruity or Bud Light.”
“I’ll take the bud Light,” he says with a chuckle.
“I need to get a few parts from the store, so your bathtub won't be done until tomorrow. I hope that's okay.” I smile loving that I will be able to see him again so soon.
“That sounds perfect.” We sit down to eat, and it is perfect. It's so domestic and he makes me laugh and blush all at the same time. He stays well past dinner and helps me do the dishes. He leaves me with a kiss on the cheek, telling me that he will be back tomorrow to finish up the bathroom.
Damn, I need to find out what else is wrong with this old house so I can have Mr. Yummy Landlord in my house for more than two days.