Curvy Girls: Claimed By The Cowboy (The BBW and the Billionaire Rancher) (14 page)
Read Curvy Girls: Claimed By The Cowboy (The BBW and the Billionaire Rancher) Online
Authors: Georgette St. Clair
“Actually the Dry Gulch fired me for not showing up for work. I can make you some moonshine, if you want. I’m pretty good at it,” Cheyenne said. She glanced at Lorenzo. “Just kidding. I don’t even know what moonshine is.”
“Sure you don’t,” he grinned.
“Seriously, Cheyenne. Never play poker,” Becky said. “Or rather, do play poker. With me. And bet lots of money.”
“What will you do now?” Abigail asked, settling back into her armchair.
“Well, hell, I’ve been working there for ten years. I was getting kind of sick of guys leering at my boobs all night long, anyway.”
Everyone swiveled to look at her. She threw her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay! I never get sick of guys staring at my boobs! Dylan and I are talking about running a photo safari business together. I know all the best spots for bird pictures, all the best views in the valley.”
She glanced towards the front door. “Oh, by the way, Twatzilla is sitting on the front porch crying all by herself.”
“Is she? Crud.” Abigail scrambled to her feet.
“Really, Abigail? She’s been a bitch to you from the day she met you. You don’t owe her jack,” Carlotta protested.
“I know, but I might as well be the bigger person. Literally. Ha ha.”
Ty tried to follow her, but Abigail waved him off. “This is girl talk. And I am fine, I swear to God.”
Abigail hurried out to the front porch, where Ludmilla was sitting on the porch swing and daintily dabbing at her face with a lacy handkerchief. It figured; she even cried pretty.
Abigail sat down next to her. “Ludmilla, what’s going on? You can’t possibly be upset because you’re divorcing Clayton. He’s a jerk. You guys can’t stand each other. You can find another rich guy.”
“There isn’t time,” Ludmilla said bleakly. “I overstayed my visa. Without my marriage, I will be on the next plane back home.” She paused, and took a deep shuddering breath. “I will see my daughter again just long enough to say goodbye to her…before the police come for us.”
“Whoa. Whoa. Back up a step. Back up a mile. What are you talking about?”
“You are so lucky here in America. My country is very backwards, very corrupt. My husband, he would not pay bribes to the police, so they killed him, and came looking for me. I left my daughter with my friends; they are hiding her. I came here so I could get a husband and citizenship, and bring her here. But now that will not be. And the police will make a very public example of me and my daughter, so nobody else will refuse to pay their bribes.”
So that’s why Ludmilla snuck into town to make that phone call. She must have been calling home to check on her daughter.
“Well, shoot, Ludmilla, you could have just told me that from the beginning. Won’t Clayton help you?”
Ludmilla shook her head sadly. “No. No ranch, no deal.”
“What a douche. Listen. If you have a work visa, you can stay here, right? And we can bring your daughter over here then.”
“But…” Ludmilla looked at her cautiously, tears glittering like diamonds on her long lashes.
“You are a brilliant interior decorator. And you practically do it from nothing.”
“Of course.” Ludmilla straightened up, smiling. “In my country we are very poor. We decorate with scraps, with pieces from the junkyard, and we make it look pretty.”
“My newspaper needs a blog on decorating. And a blog on frugal décor, with me taking pictures of what you decorate, would do really well for the paper. You could write the blog.”
“But a work visa is very expensive!” Ludmilla bit her lip, then her eyes lit up. “I know. I can sell all the clothes Clayton bought me. The purses. The shoes. I will sell everything. Not the engagement ring, that was a fake he bought to fool you and Ty. But I can sell –“
“We’ll sponsor it. Ty and I.”
“Why? Why would you do that for me?”
“Because I understand what it’s like to be willing to fight to the death for your family. I would have done exactly what you did, if my child’s life was at stake. And if I had the looks to be someone’s trophy wife.”
Ludmilla laughed through her tears. “In my country, heavier women are more pretty. It is a sign of wealth, of prestige. I am not so pretty where I come from; when I was growing up the boys called me scarecrow. Your figure makes me jealous.”
“See, you and I actually have more in common than anyone would have guessed. When I was growing up, the other kids called me hippo. You know, Ty is going to be hiring Clayton to do some limited development on the ranch; you could help with the décor for the new buildings, too. I could find you lots of work.”
“What if Clayton says no?”
“He won’t have a choice. Screw Clayton.”
“No, thank you!” Ludmilla laughed now, the first genuine laugh Abigail had ever heard from her mouth. “Never again. He is terrible in bed. Terrible!”
“Really?” Abigail’s eyes lit up. Gossip. Ludmilla had gossip.
“He just lies there flat on his back and makes me do all the work,” Ludmilla said, making a face. “He has a big, how do you call it, member, but it is worthless. He reaches the climax in two minutes. He is the most boring sex ever. He-“
Suddenly Abigail heard a rustling noise behind them and she turned to see Cheyenne, Edna, Becky and Carlotta crowded in the doorway behind her, jostling each other and straining to listen.
“Hey! Ever heard of privacy?” Abigail protested.
They all exchanged puzzled looks. “What is this privacy thing she’s speaking of?” Becky asked Carlotta. Carlotta held her hands open and shook her head in confusion.
“Good heavens, dear, don’t stop now, “ Edna said eagerly, sitting right next to Ludmilla. “How big did you say his member is, exactly?”
Epilogue
“Ty!” Abigail spluttered in tones of outrage. “You need to go beat up Edna for me. I’d do it myself, but I’m way too pregnant.”
They were holding the wedding for Winston and Ruby on the Jackson ranch, and Abigail was wearing a yellow bridesmaid’s dress that made her look like a big waddling sun. Carlotta had given birth to her twins, Bruno Serpico Antonio Mancini, and Nicolo Onofrio Andrea Mancini, two months earlier, and she already was wearing her old clothes again, which seemed really unfair to Abigail. The twins were in their bassinets, wearing adorable little baby tuxes.
Ludmilla had done the decorating for the wedding, with Abigail photographing the preparations every step of the way. Ludmilla’s daughter Valeria was serving as flower girl, wearing a frothy white dress, with a white rose pinned in her golden hair.
Abigail had come to find Ty in the kitchen, where he was working his way through a tray of appetizers. “Me? Beat up Edna Vale? Are you kidding? She’d kick my ass.” Ty popped a canapé into his mouth and grinned at his wife. “What’d she do?”
“I caught her...”Abigail looked around furtively. “I caught her sharing sex tips…with my mother!”
Ty choked on the canapé, caught his breath, threw back his head and howled with laughter. Abigail punched him on the arm.
“Shut up already. And don’t tell anyone, I mean it.”
“You’re secret’s safe with me, darlin’.” Ty made a gesture as if he were locking his lips and throwing away the key.
“Not with me, though,” Cheyenne popped her head into the doorway. “I’ve got fresh gossip! I’ve got fresh gossip! Woot, woot!” And she ran away, down the hallway that lead into the crowded livingroom, where no doubt the news would spread like a poison ivy rash throughout the whole room within minutes.
“Shiiii…taake mushrooms,” Abigail cursed. “I’m too pregnant to chase her. This bites.”
Ty wrapped his arms around her and she leaned into him, closing her eyes.
“Am I really here? Is this all really happening?” Every once in a while, Abigail just had to ask him. To remind herself that dreams could come true.
He kissed the top of her head. “You are Mrs. Ty Jackson, and you are really here. And here you will stay. I’ve got plans to keep you barefoot and pregnant forever.”
“How will you do that, exactly?”
“Lots of sex, silly woman. Oh, and I’ll steal your shoes.”
“Fun-ny.” She turned to face him, but her ever-growing stomach kept her from pulling him to her in a hug. He leaned down, over her stomach, cupped her face in his hands, and brushed his lips against hers.
“Puttin’ in a reservation to sex you up something fierce, tonight, by the way. And now, shall we join the guests, Mrs. Jackson?”
“We shall, Mr. Jackson.”
And hand in hand, they headed down the hallway to join their friends and family, on the ranch where they’d live for the rest of their lives.
THE END
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