She shakes her head. “Why would I give you my number?”
“Because I’m taking you out. Dinner for sure, maybe drinks and music afterwards, and then—” I shrug “—who knows? What’s your name?”
She stares at me, no doubt having an entire discussion in her head, before answering. “Aila.”
“Aila.” I let her name roll off my tongue, and it seems almost as familiar as her face. “Have we met before?”
“Doubt it. I’m new in town.” She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing up her breasts.
I’m unable to keep my eyes from moving down and taking in all of her before coming back up to meet her knowing gaze. I flash her an innocent smile, though I doubt I’m able to sell anything less than the wicked thoughts running through my brain. “Are you busy tomorrow night?”
Two women I trained last year walk by and say with a lyrical lilt. “Hi, Lucas.”
I nod in response, but do not take my eyes off Aila.
She glances over her shoulder and sighs. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to take me to dinner?”
I furrow my brow, like it’s the most ridiculous question I’ve ever heard. “Because you’re beautiful, and I want to get to know you.”
2
AILA
I’m one of the most body confident plus-sized women I know. I’m a model for my business, and own an online clothing boutique that caters to size fourteen to twenty-four clientele—or XL to 3XL—whichever number fits.
Normally, I’m rocking my size, embracing my curves, loving on my plentiful cleavage and tight, round ass—but this gym, stuffed with women who stare and sneer, is fucking with my self-esteem, so it’s time to go.
Then there’s this guy—who looks like he should be on the cover of Muscle & Fitness magazine—stalking me to tell me I’m beautiful.
“You don’t strike me as someone who suffers from low self-esteem.” He raises a challenging brow.
“I’m not.” I square my shoulders and mutter under my breath, “normally.”
“So, it’s me?” He grins. “Didn’t you say I was cute?”
“You’re very handsome, Lucas, but you look like you should shack up with Malibu Barbie.”
“Ouch. Are you judging me for the way I look?” He runs his big paw across his wide chest and then walks away with my bag on his shoulder.
“Where are you going?” I yell after him.
“I’m walking you to your car,” he says, not breaking stride. If anything, I think he speeds up.
I rush after him, catching him at the door.
“Left or right,” he says without looking at me, brokering no argument.
Rolling my eyes, I motion to the left. “This way.”
I act like I’m annoyed, but to be honest, if I’d met him anywhere else, I wouldn’t put up a fight. I’d lean into our attraction, flash a little cleavage and bat my eyelashes. The man is hot, so I’d be one-hundred percent about the flirting. Tall and muscled—he’s the kind of man that makes a girl my size feel normal. If we’d met without a bitchy female snarling at me from behind him, he’d already have my phone number.
“That’s a good girl.” Lucas chuckles when my head whips around at his words, a blush hitting my cheeks, and then follows behind me.
I can’t help it. I put a little extra swish into my hips, knowing he’s back there, watching.