Soft Serve Sweetie (Plus Size Romance 2)

Soft Serve Sweetie

Lynn Cooper

Copyright © 2015 Lynn Cooper

All rights reserved.

“Cherry, you’re so beautiful and should be treated with respect.  You deserve better than that jerkwad.  You need a man whose heart you can count on.”

—Zane Barrett

IT WAS MID-MORNING IN early April, and already the temperatures were sweltering. What happened to springtime? There didn’t seem to be any transition of seasons anymore—at least not in South Carolina. One minute a body was shivering in the bust-ass cold; the next, it was drenched with sweat from overwhelming heat and humidity. Even inside his patrol car with the air conditioner set on high, the morning sun was searing officer Zane Barrett’s face through the windshield.

It was a typical Monday morning, too.  Instead of hitting the snooze button, he had accidentally turned off the alarm clock.  Running late left him playing catch-up all day.  A feeling he detested.  To make matters worse, his partner had called in with a stomach bug.  Zane and Knox had been a team for the last seventeen years.  They were assigned to each other as rookies.  Both had graduated the police academy at twenty-three.  Now, they were two middle-aged men, having turned forty within three weeks of each other.  Hell, Knox wasn’t just a partner, he was like a brother. 

They spent a great deal of time together and always shared in each other’s ups and downs.  The one thing Zane was glad they didn’t share at the moment was the potent stomach virus that had been circulating around the department.  Zane considered himself damn lucky to have a strong immune system.  As a bachelor, getting sick really sucked the big one.  He couldn’t think of anything worse than feeling bad
and
being alone. 

Knox was lucky to have found his “Miss Right” early on.  He married the love of his life—his high school sweetheart, Sadie. They tied the knot a week after he graduated from the police academy and shared the kind of marriage that Zane envied.  The kind that’s full of love and laughter.  The kind that lasts forever and doesn’t come along very often.  The kind his parents had.  Zane hadn’t planned on still being a bachelor at forty, but the woman for him hadn’t come along yet.  And he wasn’t about to settle just because the clock was ticking.

Truthfully, he stopped actively looking for his better half a long time ago.  When Knox pressed him on the issue, Zane would just shrug and say, “She’ll find me.”  Of course he didn’t buy into his own bullshit and neither did his partner. The odds of his perfect woman finding him were slim to none. Some folks just weren’t meant to be married.  Maybe he was one of them.

CHERRY MERCER WAS BARRELING down Oakgrove Avenue in her 1987, two-toned Buick sedan.  Yeah, she was a twenty-one-year-old college graduate, working at an ice cream parlor and driving a 28-year-old car.  One she had purchased her senior year in high school from a sweet old lady in her neighborhood.  One with a broken visor that was useless against the blinding glare of the sun.  Yep, life was good, if you didn’t mind being eyeball deep in student loans with your plus-size butt sticking to the cracked vinyl seat of your antique car. 

She felt bad for complaining, though.  Her parents had been good people and raised her to be grateful to God for all things, and things could always be worse.  At least the old clunker could get her from point A to point B.  Today, that was from her place of employment to the First Savings and Loan on Main Street.  She was running behind and needed to make the mid-morning deposit before the lunch crowd hit.  Working at Pete’s Ice Cream Parlor at least had one perk—free soft serve for employees—and that was a real bonus when a gal was driving a relic without air conditioning. 

With the window down, her blonde, wavy hair was whipping in the wind.  And, unfortunately, her vanilla-chocolate swirl was dripping at an alarming rate.  Without realizing it, the faster she licked her ice cream, the harder her foot pressed the accelerator.  Knowing she was nearing the end of Oakgrove Avenue, she forced herself to let up on the gas while taking one more swooping lick from the base of the cone to the tip of the creamy swirl.

The sun was still at an awkward angle, and she couldn’t see a thing.  But she was certain the stop sign was just up ahead.  She gave the brakes a good solid tap but not soon enough or hard enough to keep her from plowing into the car in front of her.  On impact, her torso lurched forward, and she slammed face-first into her ice cream cone. 

Ignoring the sticky sweetness covering her nose, lips and chin, she tossed the cone into an empty coffee cup on the console and struggled to free herself from the lap belt.  The shoulder harness was broken—vis-à-vis the reason she now had a face full of chocolate and vanilla swirl.  She had just gotten the belt loose, squirmed around to unstick her ample bottom from the seat and pushed open the door when a tall, dark and handsome police officer materialized in front of her.  He was hotter than the day was long, but somehow she managed to keep her thoughts trained on the accident.  She was worried the other driver might be injured.  Due to the intense brightness and positioning of the sun, she couldn’t see the other car without getting out and walking around to the front of her vehicle.

The officer blocked her from passing, cocked his head to the side and gave her a quizzical look.

Pulling herself up to her full five feet nine inches, Cherry blurted out, “Boy, you sure got here fast!  I mean I
literally
just rear-ended this poor person,” she said, pointing in the direction of the other car, “and already you’re on the scene.”

“Are you serious, lady? I can see you’re a little out there, but this isn’t Star-Trek.  I didn’t just beam over from another planet.  I was already here. 
I’m
the poor person you rear-ended.”

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.  “Oh, my, God! Are you okay?” she asked, patting his shoulder.  In the process, she smeared his dark, navy shirt with the ice cream from her sticky fingers.

“I’m fine.”  Holding his arm out, he examined the sleeve.  “But I can’t say the same for my uniform.”

“Aw, crap! I’m so sorry, Officer—?”

“Zane Barrett.  And for whom do I have the pleasure of writing this ticket?”

“Cherry Mercer.”  Her voice broke, and tears filled her eyes.  Now that she was no longer fretting over anyone being injured, the seriousness of her situation hit her full force.  She had just rammed into the back of a police officer’s car. It was her fault.  Her insurance was likely to sky-rocket, and she still needed to make that darn bank deposit lest her boss really blow his top.  

The hunky cop didn’t seem to notice her distress as he cleared his throat and held out his hand.  “I need your license, registration and proof of insurance, please.”

Nodding, she turned back to her car.  As she leaned in toward the dash, she cursed. 
Shit!
Pete had yelled at her to hurry up with the deposit and had been insulting her all morning.  Feeling jumpy and nervous, she had left in a hurry.  She could see it in her mind’s eye now: her leather Michael Kors purse lying under the counter at the ice cream parlor.  It was her prized possession.  She had discovered the three-hundred dollar bag at a yard sale for only twenty bucks. Finding it had felt like winning the lottery. 

Slowly turning back around to face the smoking-hot cop, Cherry said, “I seem to have left my purse at work.”

He furrowed his brow.  “I see.  You’ll need to come with me then, Miss Mercer.”

“But, wait! What about my car?”

“I’ll radio for a wrecker to tow it out of the street.  In the meantime, you can make yourself at home in one of my holding cells.”

“Wh—what?” she stammered.  “You’re putting me in jail? Why?”

Her questions were abruptly brought to an end when he quickly settled her into the back seat of the patrol car and closed the door.

LETTING OUT THE BREATH he’d been holding, he asked himself,
Why indeed?
Zane could have easily ran her tags through the LEIN (Law Enforcement Information) database.  He could have gotten verification of her driver’s license and proof of car insurance from the DMV.  There was very little damage done to either vehicle.  He could have just written her a ticket and let her leave the scene.  

But there was something about her that kept him from turning her loose.  With her sweat-soaked T-shirt clinging to her luscious curves, her gorgeous locks of blonde hair blown into total disarray, and her adorable face covered with soft serve ice cream, she stirred something in his heart
and
loins. 

He reprimanded himself for such thoughts.  Without the proper identification, he couldn’t be sure of her age.  But, she appeared to be in her early twenties.  God, help him. He was old enough to be her father.

When her eyes filled with tears, he had wanted to both protect and ravish her at the same time.  He was hoping he had come off gruff enough to cover the intense attraction he felt toward her.  When she turned that fine ass to him while rummaging through her dash, his dick had twitched like a diving rod.

It was all he could do to keep his erection hidden while putting her in the backseat of his patrol car.  This was one day he was glad to be without his partner.  He didn’t want to share this moment or Cherry Mercer with Knox or anyone else.

In her upset, she had left the deposit bag lying on the front seat of her car.  It was easy for Zane to believe her story about leaving her purse at work.  Obviously, his soft serve sweetie was easily flustered and forgetful.
Good, grief
. 
Had he already come up with a term of endearment for this woman?
He really needed to get a grip on himself.

Grabbing the deposit bag, he got in the car and drove them downtown.

THE SMALL-TOWN POLICE STATION was practically empty when they entered the lobby.  Still, Cherry nervously looked around, wishing she could disappear under the tiled flooring.  She could see Zane Barrett had a few miles on him, but he was definitely hot, hunky and chivalrous.  His gentlemanly behavior had cast some sort of spell over her.  He had opened both the car door for her and the door to the station, allowing her to enter first.  She felt like she was on a date instead of being detained by the police.  Still, she had never had any kind of run-in with the law before, and a severe case of nerves had activated her bladder. 

When Officer Barrett placed his hand on her low back and ushered her to his desk, she nearly peed her pants.  When he gestured for her to take a seat, she had no choice but to speak up.  Sitting down would have been seriously uncomfortable.   “Uh, do you think I could use the ladies room before you throw the book at me?”

He flashed a sexy, heart-stopping smile that made her go weak in the knees.  “Sure.  With your bank bag in my possession, you’re not likely to be a flight risk,” he said, winking at her.  “It’s the second door on the left.”

Cherry nodded, feeling heat flood her face.  She really needed to get a hold of herself.  This man was having way too much of an effect on her.  Reacting to his every movement, subtle touches and facial expressions just proved how crazy desperate she was for male attention. But she wasn’t ready to risk heartbreak again for anyone. For her, relationships of any kind had always led to sadness and heartache.  As a result, she struggled with abandonment and rejection issues.  Feelings which often caused her to overeat.

She had always been tall and big-boned anyway, but, she really put on the pounds when she started college.  It was during her freshman year that she had suffered the greatest loss of all, quickly turning the normal freshman fifteen into the freshman forty.  Since then, she just hadn’t been able to shed the extra weight.  If anything, she had gained even more since working at Pete’s Ice Cream Parlor— 

Crap!
Pete was going to hit the roof when he found out about the accident. 

The bathroom, like the rest of the station, was small but tidy.  After relieving herself, she washed her hands and face.  She was so mesmerized by the cute cop, she had completely forgotten about the sticky ice cream smears across her nose and chin.  Yeah, Officer Barrett probably thought she was
real
attractive.  Standing in front of the mirror, she groaned inwardly at her reflection.  What could be hotter than a chubby, college grad covered in soft serve?

Quickly, she ran her fingers through her long blonde hair and pinched her cheeks to give them a little color.  Her lipstick had all but disappeared with the last remnants of ice cream.  If she had her purse, she could touch up her makeup, making herself a little more presentable.  Of course, if she had her purse, she wouldn’t be in this predicament to start with.  Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome could have run her license from his patrol car, and she wouldn’t be stuck here at the station. Oh, well, there was nothing to do now but face the music.  Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and exited the restroom.

The second she stepped into the lobby, her eyes found broad shoulders, a square jawline and dark, smoldering eyes looking right back at her.

She felt breathless when she heard the rich, deep timbre of his voice.  “Everything come out all right?” he asked in a teasing tone.

She offered him her most dazzling smile.  “Yep, didn’t even need any help with the paperwork.”

He chuckled.  “Well, I might have to have a little help with mine.  How about you call your boss and ask him to bring your purse?  I have to fill out a report on our little fender bender, and I really need your license, registration and insurance card to do that,” he said, gesturing to the landline phone on the corner of his desk.