My Curvy Belle

Had I had other intentions, I wouldn’t be here. She’s the granddaughter of my grandma’s best friend. Not someone I would trifle with lightly. She’s also the first woman I’ve ever wanted with such intensity.

“Okay Logan, don’t fuck this up.” I got out and walked up to the door, ringing the bell like a stranger instead of the kid who’d spent many a summer day here in the past.

Because I wasn’t here to see the grandmotherly woman who’d helped raise me along with my family, but the other one. It was in essence our first date after all.

I wiped my palms up and down the leg of my jeans as I waited, acknowledging the strangeness of me being here like this at this time. I’d been in this exact spot many times as a child. Who knew that one day I’d be here for this?

That got me to thinking of why I’d never seen her here before. If she’s who I think she is then her mother had married some kind of diplomat who’d lived outside of the country.

Aunt Charlie had so many kids and grandkids though that it was hard to know who was who. “Hi aunt Charlie.” I wrapped my arms around the tiny elderly woman who was as much my grandma as the real one when she answered the door.

“Don’t you hi me you scamp. You’ve been home for a good long while already and not even a phone call.” I kissed her wrinkled cheek and that, with the scent of my favorite peach cobbler cooking in the kitchen, brought back such great memories.

“I’m sorry about that, it won’t happen again I promise.” I grinned down at her, enjoying her sass.

“You see that it don’t.” I looked over her shoulder but my girl didn’t make an appearance.

“So what brings you here?” From the smile she gave me I got the idea she already knew the answer to that. I felt that intense pressure in my chest and my pulse picked up speed.

The enormity of what I was about to do hit me all at once. This wasn’t something I could come back from. Due to the respect and love I have for this woman, there’s no way I can take her kin to my bed and treat her like a casual fling.

Still, with those thoughts in my head, the decision was an easy one. “I’m here for Belle!” The words weren’t as frightening as I thought they would be, and I felt the constriction in my chest ease.

“Well now!” She blushed and turned to head back into the house. “Come on in here.” I followed her into the kitchen and found my treasure sitting at the table looking nervous as hell.

I felt my body relax at the sight of her. It wasn’t my imagination. In fact in this relaxed setting she was even more beautiful than I remembered. I hadn’t noticed the smattering of freckles across her cute little nose before.

My eyes travelled across her lips and back up to her eyes. It was the look of uncertainty with a tinge of fear that sealed the deal for me. Her insecurity made me feel stronger, almost protective. Like I was responsible for her feelings or something along those lines. I was amazed at all the differing emotions she’d made me feel in the few hours that I’d known her.

I saw the fight in her to keep her eyes on mine and not look away and wondered who the asshole was that had put that look of self doubt in her eyes. My heart tore just a little bit at what she must be feeling.

It grinds me up when I see a beautiful woman lose herself over what is usually an undeserving asshole. I myself have always treated women with the utmost respect. As much as I fucked around, I never lied to any one of them, and went out of my way to never give them false hope.

I’ve seen enough divorces in my time to know that it’s a destructive force that have felled some of the strongest people I know. She’d already been through that. Already had her heart trampled no doubt.

She looks like the type that believed in love and happily ever after. Could I take this next step and ask her to open herself up like that again? I know what I’ll ask of her, but am I truly willing to give her what it would take?

There was pain in her eyes. If you looked hard enough, deep enough, you could see it. Pain caused by another man. Someone she’d loved at one time I’m sure.

I guess I’m gonna have to work on that little spark of jealousy I feel every time I think of her with another man. It’s a new wrinkle in the fabric of my life, caring that she’d been with someone else.