Page 6 of Hot Water: A BBW Small Town Romance (Lovers Lake)

6

Ethan

The weather is warm this time of year; warm enough to make the jasmine I potted bloom and perfume the night air. It’s also warm enough to eat dinner on the veranda outside the restaurant. I carry a two-seater dining table outside and set it where we can see the lake clearly. I strip the cover off an indoor table and set it neatly, then add two chairs while I wait for Lexi to join me.

I regret wearing a long sleeve shirt, I’m already sweating from the effort. But I couldn’t exactly wear a t-shirt and shorts to dinner, so the best I can do to cool off is roll up my sleeves and sit still. Lexi steps through the glass doors and onto the deck. She’s wearing a white halter-neck dress with a plunging neckline. Her tits bounce as she walks, and I pretend to look at something interesting on the horizon. My mouth is dry and I’m struggling to think of a single thing to say to her. In my desperation to avoid her, all I’ve managed to avoid is how I feel about her. I feel too much. I want too much, and I have no idea what to do about it.

What part of my stupid mind thought Cooper’s suggestion was a good one? I’ll never get through the evening without making a fool of myself. This was a mistake. I never should have listened to Cooper.

She smiles brightly when she sees me and practically bounces to the table to meet me. Her glossy dark hair swishes across her shoulders and the fabric of her dress glides along her hips as she walks. She’s so beautiful. She shimmers in the afternoon light. She looks much taller than usual, and I realize she’s wearing wedge-heeled sandals. She’s made an effort to dress for dinner, and I’m relieved I listened to Cooper and wore a real shirt. As she takes a seat, her hair falls across her eyes and I want to reach forward and sweep it off her face, but stop myself.

“This is nice, Ethan. Thanks so much for organizing it,” she says softly, and I nod, taking the credit for something I had nothing to do with. It’s not my smartest move, but I don’t want to disappoint her. She’s so sweet, I find myself wanting to please her. Jesus, man, don’t be a fool. If I cross this line with her, I could fuck everything up.

Chef Bastien sees us and comes out to say hello. He shakes my hand before turning to Lexi and smiling brightly. “Lexi, you look lovely this evening.” He takes in her heels and says, “Ethan are you sure you want to stick with what was ordered?” I have no idea what he means but don’t want to look like a dick. Cooper pulled this together and if he’s set me up, I’m going to kill him.

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Bastian doesn’t seem convinced, but answers, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

“I can’t wait to see what he’s prepared for us, I’m starving,” she says rolling her eyes comically, as cold dread pricks the hairs on the nape of my neck. I hope I haven’t been stitched up by Cooper. If he has, I’ll kill him. Moments later, Bastian returns holding a cane basket laden with food. He places it on the table and Lexi’s eyes are wide as saucers.

“This looks like fun!” She exclaims as I sit grinning like an idiot, mad as fuck at Cooper for ordering a picnic and ‘forgetting’ to tell me. Now I understand why Bastian asked about Lexi’s clothes. Cooper ordered a picnic so I could take her down to the dock for some privacy. Pushy prick.

“Thanks, Bastien, I’ll return the basket later. Come on Lexi, we’re taking this down to the dock.” She stands and pushes her chair in as I lean in to Bastien and ask if there’s a blanket to sit on and he gives me a haughty and very French, ‘of course!’ shrug. They couldn’t make this evening any easier for me, could they? A basket of high-quality food and booze, a calm, warm summer night and the woman of my dreams.

Question is, can I keep my hands on the food and off of her?

Lexi spreadsthe blanket over the rough wooden boards, and we unpack the picnic, examining and commenting on each item as we go. She suggests we eat dessert first, but I argue that it takes away from a true customer experience. The way she thrusts her bottom lip forward in mock defeat makes me instantly hard. I angle myself away from her so she can’t see the bulge in my pants. I focus on the food and wine instead, hoping my erection softens enough to not distract me throughout the whole meal. Then my eyes land on her cleavage when she bends forward to cut the loaf of bread and I realize there’s no hope. I may as well deal with it by putting a napkin across my lap to hide it.

She takes her shoes off and dangles her legs over the edge of the dock, kicking her feet back and forth like a kid. Her dress falls softly over her thighs, dipping in the middle and drawing my attention to the apex at the top of her curvy legs. I look away, trying to get my simmering feelings under control. I want to do is lift her skirt and bury myself between her thighs.

Lexi is sweet, funny, and self-deprecating and after the second glass of wine she lets her guard down. She’s easy company and the conversation flows between us. During a pause in conversation, a shadow crosses her face and I want to know why.

“Do you miss your friends back home, Lexi? Your parents?”

“Yes and no. I miss my friends but they’re all busy with their lives. You know how it is. As for my parents, well, what can I say? We talk every few days, but it’s nice to have a hundred or so miles between us. Not forever, just for a while.”

“I remember your parents, and they were super strict, weren’t they?” Her eyebrows lift to her hairline, and she purses her lips together.

“That’s an understatement! But enough about me, what were your parents like? You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to. I don’t mean to pry.”

With the spotlight firmly on me, I blow out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding in. “My parents were killed in a car crash when I was young. My grandparents worked hard to bring me up. They never made me feel like a burden, but I know supporting me delayed their retirement. I’ve always been independent and when I was old enough, I enlisted in the Army and went my own way.”

I don’t know if it’s the way she listens, the wine, or the peaceful atmosphere of the lake, but I feel comfortable talking to her. “My brother told me you were on tour when your grandad died, and you didn’t take it too well.” That’s a very gentle way of describing my anger and grief.

“I didn’t cope with the guilt very well. I drank too much before I realized it didn’t help. After a time, I decided to make my home on Eden Lake and restore the hotel as a way of honoring my grandad. My grandparents really loved this place. I owe it to their memory to at least try to make it work.”

“You’re more than trying, Ethan. It’s turning into an awesome place, it really is. I think you have the makings of a great resort. But can you see yourself living here long-term? I mean is this your permanent home now or will you get it set it up and move on to something else?” Her question puts me on the spot because what I really want is her. A future with her, but I can’t have her. But I can tell her part of the truth.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” I answer, and she looks at me with a wide-eyed stare. She gasps as though she’s misunderstood my meaning, but maybe I mixed up my words. “What I mean to say, is the lake is special. It’s so peaceful, and the more time I spend here, the more magical it becomes. I can see myself staying and raising a family here.”

She castsa sidelong glance at me, considering my answer thoughtfully and it’s my turn to ask, “What about you? What do you want? I mean after you get this place set up, I’m sure you’ll hire your replacement and leave. But have you thought about what you want to do next?”

The wind picks up, whipping her hair around her face, and in the moment when she shakes her hair loose, I rake my eyes over her perfect body. “My plans have changed, so I’m not really sure. I feel differently now than I did when I came here.” She doesn’t elaborate and I’m left wondering what she means, hoping for more with her, and hating myself for it. I don’t want her to compromise her feelings or make decisions for her life based on what I want. Or more, what I want and can’t have. Fuck. Why is life so complicated?

Lexi sips her wine quietly as the sun dips low over the horizon. The last rays of sun cast glittering light across the water but it will be dark before long. “Why don’t we pack up and head back to the hotel?” I suggest, more for myself than for her. “The breeze off the water is getting stronger and it’s getting dark.”

She agrees, so we pack up the picnic and stroll to the hotel in the waning light. I carry the basket and she walks beside me with her shoes in one hand, humming a tune to herself. She swings her arms by her side as she moves, and I imagine her skipping like a little girl. She’s so free and uninhibited. She’s the opposite to me and my regimented way of life.

Once inside the hotel, I escort her through the foyer and take the elevator up to her room. The hotel is empty and quiet. The atmosphere between us crackles with electricity.

“Are you going to make me write a report on the food for Bastien?” I groan, wondering what type of comments would be helpful.

“What did you think of the food?”

“I have no idea. Um, it was tasty? Is that enough?” She laughs at my ridiculous answer as we walk up to the door of her room and stop. She stands with her back to the door and says,

“I agree with you on the food. I thought it was wonderful. I never even considered offering picnics. Color me impressed. Thank you, Ethan. I had a great evening.” I’ve thought about this moment all night. Imagined myself saying good night in a professional tone and walking away. After all, it was a work dinner, wasn’t it? The gleam in her eye tells me it wasn’t, though. I stare at her for a long moment, and she doesn’t move; she doesn’t reach for the door handle. Instead, she reaches for my collar, draws me close, and kisses me on the mouth.

Her lips are liquid fire. I drop the basket at my feet hastily and glass shatters but neither of us break away from the kiss. In an instant, I’m all over her, pinning her back against the door. Who cares about crockery at a time like this? She’s so hot. I want her so much my dick twitches and strains against my zipper.

The woman of my dreams is in my arms, kissing me back. The woman of my dreams is pressing herself against me, and her tongue grazes my lips, seeking entry. The woman of my dreams is Baxter’s sister. I can’t do this, it’s wrong.

“What’s wrong?” she gasps as I pull away from her, hanging my head in shame.

“I’m so sorry, Lexi. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay, I kissed you first, remember?”

“No, it’s all on me. None of this is your fault, and it won’t happen again. I’m so sorry, I lost my head, okay?” I pick up the basket with shattered glass and step away, only to hear the door to her room close softly behind her.

I fucked that up royally, didn’t I? Way to go Lovelock. Great work.

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