His Curvy Enemy - Curvy Girl Dating Agency

EvaI wasn’t much of a cook but that fact didn’t bother me nearly as much as it bothered my mama, who’d spent most of my life in a cutthroat cooking competition with my aunt Elizabeth. I could manage a few of the basics, like any good Southern girl, which meant I could find solace in chopping up copious amounts of the holy trinity. Piles of onion, celery, and bell pepper lined my counter, in addition to enough garlic to save us from all the vampires.

The washing and peeling and chopping were a series of mechanical tasks, a flick of the wrist and a little pressure applied, that allowed me to get lost in my own thoughts, which inevitably strayed to Oliver and his beautiful blue eyes. His playful smile. The way he cared so much about Ricky, showing up to cheer him on after work and rewarding him for good grades.

“Dammit.” He was a good guy. A good and decent guy, who just wanted nothing at all to do with love and commitment. “His loss,” I told myself, because that was what it was. Not mine.

The doorbell rang and startled a gasp out of me. I gave my body a cursory look and sighed. I wouldn’t win any beauty awards in my Simpsons boxer shorts that were a gag gift from Sophie and my Dr. Who tank top that I’ve had since college. But it was my day off to relax at home, and I didn’t ask for visitors. “Good enough.” I made my way to the front door and let out another gasp, this one in surprise at the visitor on my doorstep.

“I can hear you breathing, Eva. Trying to decide if you should open the door or not?” His teasing words were just the dare I needed to pull it open with no regard to my bare face or messy bun.

“Oliver. What brings you by?”

His playful gaze turned mischievous as his gaze raked over my body, lingering on my braless chest before continuing down, admiring the flare of my hips and all the leg on display. Then, seductive bastard that he was, Oliver’s gaze traveled slowly upward once again. “I wanted to see you and figured this was the best place to do it.”

Well, damn, it was really hard to keep one’s resolve in the face of such charm and handsomeness. “Very observant of you, Oliver. Two points.”

“Is that enough to get invited inside?”

I nodded. “Tentatively, anyway. I reserve the right to change my mind at any moment.”

“Then I promise to be on my best behavior.” The mischief dancing in his eyes said otherwise, but I nodded and shut the door behind him.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

“Expecting company?”

Was he fishing or just making conversation? “No. I’m making some gumbo for Mama and a big pot of jambalaya for me.”

“And me?”

“If you’re a good boy.”

“I’m always good,” he said, his words practically a hand caressing its way slowly down my body. “Or don’t you remember?”

As if I could forget. “I remember. Maybe a little too well,” I admitted.

Oliver’s deep laugh was like another touch, this one more erotic in intent, sliding over my curves. “You too, huh? Good to know.”

“Anyway. What’s up?” I hadn’t seen or heard much from Oliver all week, so this visit was more than unexpected. It was a shock.

“I guess I missed you.”

“You’re just used to seeing me a lot more than you usually do, that’s all. Soon enough, you won’t have to see me so much.”

“I don’t know, Eva. You’ve grown on me.”

“Like fungus,” I asked with a laugh.

Oliver shrugged. “Like portobella mushrooms, then.”

“Man, you really are good.”

“Or maybe I’m just sincere. Want some help?”

I shook my head. “Have a seat and tell me about your week.”

Two big pots sizzled on the stove while I listened to Oliver talk about his work. “This guy called in to ask me about proposing to his girlfriend. Me, of all people, can you believe it?”

I couldn’t, but I kept it to myself. “What did you tell him?” I could only imagine the advice was something like, “Don’t do it and run for the hills.”

“She’s getting impatient for a proposal. He’s already bought the ring, but he’s waiting for the right moment. He wanted to know if he should just do it to make her happy. I told him to wait until it felt right, it’d mean more to them both if he did.”

Shit. “That was good advice.”

“Uh, thanks?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his expression. “I mean it. I figured you’d tell him that was proof she only wanted a husband, not him specifically. Good job, Oliver.”

“Thank you.” Oliver inhaled deeply and grinned. “Damn, that smells good. So good.”

I cocked a brow his way. “Such improvement on the compliments.”

“Thanks.” Oliver stood and pulled himself up to his full height and scanned my spacious kitchen. “Since you’re making it smell wonderful in here, how about I whip up us something to drink to go with it?”