Bon Bon Beauty (Plus Size Romance 3) (2 page)

Of course Nate Sloan couldn’t possibly understand any of those things.  He had made it crystal clear that he wanted only two things from Parker—for him to follow in his perfect physician’s footsteps and for him to marry Tiffany Atlas.  Parker wanted to do neither of those things.  The latter had been a remote possibility up until a few moments ago.  But now that he had met and touched Saffron Butler, there was no way in hell he was going to the altar with little Miss Socialite.

PROPPED UP IN BED with soft jazz filling her tiny apartment, Saffron grabbed the newest paperback romance from her bedside table.  She had fallen in love with books from the moment she learned to read.  Instantly, they comforted her and became her best friends.  The more she read, the more she wanted to. Books were a safe and effective means of escape from the turmoil that had filled her childhood—one rife with fear and sadness.

Even now she wondered how her life would have been different had her father not run off the day she was born.  With no explanation, he bolted from the hospital without signing her birth certificate, leaving her and her mother Starla all alone to fend for themselves. 

With no other family and only a few friends, Starla turned to drugs to ease the pain of her man’s rejection.  Even high as a kite, she was a fantastic hairdresser, and she made the best bon bons Saffron had ever tasted.  The delicious candy, cute haircuts and flawless permanent waves kept a steady line of customers coming to the trailer each week.  Instead of using the money Starla earned to better herself and move Saffron to safer housing, she used it to support her drug habit.

Being so young, Saffron didn’t understand the seriousness of addiction.  Nor was she equipped to intervene.  All she could do was helplessly watch as her mama wasted away before her eyes and eventually overdosed the summer Saffron graduated from high school.

She sold the trailer to pay for her mama’s funeral before moving in with the woman who had been Starla’s very first customer—Wavalee Tisdale. The much older woman had been a beacon of light and optimism during Saffron’s darkest days.   Wavalee even co-signed the loan with her to buy the Bon Bon Beauty Parlor.

Saffron shook her head and smiled, recalling the exchange between Wavalee and Parker—the most handsome man ever to walk the earth.  The only man to seize all her senses at once.  A man she hadn’t been able to get out of her mind for the last week.  Every time the door to the beauty parlor opened, her heart would palpitate with the hope that he had come back to check on her. She knew it was a silly fantasy, but it was one she couldn’t help but entertain. 

He had been on her mind constantly, and she longed to see him again.  The attraction and intensity of heat between them had continued to warm her for the last seven days.  She ached to feel his arms about her, to hear his deep baritone voice, to look into his bedroom eyes.  Since there were hundreds of paramedics in Sparkle City, it was highly unlikely they would run into each other again.  Besides, it was foolish to think he had felt any of the electricity she had.

During the past week, she had entertained many scenarios, all involving ways to see him again.  She imagined herself fake-fainting on the sidewalk outside the beauty parlor.  A Good Samaritan would whip out their cell phone and call for an ambulance.  Seeing as how things always work out perfectly in a fantasy, the sexy Parker Sloan would be on duty and come racing to her rescue.  Maybe he would be astride a white horse instead of driving a red ambulance.  She giggled at such an absurd prospect. 

Saffron had even fancied herself in the role of detective—the savvy computer sort—who would use the tools of the internet to track his every movement.  With some careful planning and the element of good timing, she could conveniently show up wherever he happened to be.  Naturally, she would feign surprise, saying something witty like, “
Imagine this!  What’s a handsome heartthrob like you doing at a fish camp like this?”

It was fun to dream but safer to keep things real.  Sighing deeply, Saffron vowed to deal with the loneliness the way she always had.  She would bury herself in her romance novels where every hunky hero in every book would become Parker Sloan.  It would have to be enough for now, maybe forever.  She wasn’t ready to entrust her heart to any man.  Her mama made that mistake and ended up dead.

Just as she was getting to the good part—the place where the hero was declaring his undying love and perpetual passion—the phone rang.

Glancing at the caller ID, she cursed. 
Shit!

Before Saffron could greet Wavalee, she started yakking a mile a minute.  “Lawd child, you better not have your nose stuck in a book.”

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Saffron felt like a kid who’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.  Dropping the book like a hot potato, she straightened up and stuttered, “Uh—no, ma’am.  I’m just getting dressed.”

She could hear the sound of suspicion in Wavalee’s voice.  “Well, you better be. You gonna be late if you don’t kick that butt into high gear.”

“I know.  I’m on my way to McMillan Park right now,” Saffron said, hopping out of the bed.  She cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder while wrestling her way into a fresh T-shirt and pulling on her running shorts.

  “Alright then, but you be sure to eat some breakfast.  I can’t have you fainting and ruining this fundraiser.  The Sundowner wing of Barkingham Palace is counting on you.  You know how much those fur babies mean to me, especially that cuddly Sir Barksalot.  Now get moving!”

She shoved her feet into a pair of running shoes just as Wavalee disconnected the call.

How could Saffron forget about the charity cross-country marathon? She had pledged her support and committed to running the race to help Wavalee raise money to keep her precious Sir Barksalot and the other senior canines afloat for another year.  Barkingham Palace was a place where senior dogs who had outlived their owners could stay and be cared for until they passed away.  With the adoption rates for older dogs being less than one percent, those sweet animals needed a haven in which to happily live out their final days.

Glancing at her watch, she cursed.  She needed to sign in and be at the starting line in fifteen minutes.  Grabbing an apple and a cold chicken leg from the fridge, she sprinted out the door.

PARKER FURROWED HIS BROWS as he drove down Interstate 85 North.  He was supposed to be off this weekend, but Chase had come down with the flu last night.  Normally, Parker wouldn’t have minded covering for his partner. But this was the Saturday he was scheduled to have brunch with his parents, Tiffany and her folks.  He wanted to be there so he could set them all straight. It was past time for them to accept his decision not to take the Medical Board Exam.  And, although he didn’t relish the prospect of hurting any of them, they needed to know he wouldn’t be marrying Tiffany either.

When they had first started dating, it had almost seemed preordained.  Their parents had met one summer while vacationing at Martha’s Vineyard.  Tiffany’s dad Harold, a CEO at Milliken, and Parker’s dad Nate, a renowned cardiologist, ran into each other at the Wharf Pub and became fast friends. 

While their simultaneously pregnant wives—Lilian Atlas and Georgia Sloan—chatted over some sweet tea, the men shared a few beers.  Later that night, the two couples enjoyed a seafood dinner and a stroll along Katama Beach. As the men talked about their respective occupations, the women picked up seashells.  Unfortunately, when Lilian turned over a huge, pink conch shell, angry honeybees rose and swarmed over her.  She got stung several times and went into anaphylactic shock.  Naturally, Nate jumped into action, delivering a life-saving injection of epinephrine.  Once the immediate danger had passed, he and Georgia stayed with the Atlases so Nate could continue to monitor Lilian. 

After that night, the couples made a pact to vacation together.  Every year for the past thirty years they spent the second week in June on the vineyard.  So, in a sense, Tiffany and Parker grew up together.  They had become playmates during childhood, friends as teenagers and lovers as young adults.  The progression had been natural and expected.  Everything had been going according to schedule until Parker dropped out of medical school. 

Once he found his true calling as a paramedic, it upset the delicately balanced echo system that had existed between the two families.  More importantly, it had become a major bone of contention between him and Tiffany. Even so, his change of vocation wasn’t the biggest wrench in all their plans.  At least, not for him. Not now.  Meeting Saffron Butler had been a game changer.  He no longer wanted to be tied to Tiffany for the sake of nostalgia.  He didn’t want to marry her and have children with her because their parents wanted to cling to the tradition of shared vacations on Martha’s Vineyard.

No, he wanted something entirely different.  For the past week, he had barely been able to function.  Images of Saffron filled his mind day and night.  All he could do was pine for her, lust after her and dream about her.  He had driven past the Bon Bon Beauty Parlor countless times but couldn’t bring himself to stop.  It wouldn’t be right to get involved with her until he had resolved things with Tiffany.  When the time came, he wanted to be completely free.  To have certain things in place along with a perfectly-laid plan that only included the two of them.

He hated the feeling of being in limbo.  His future couldn’t really begin until after the charity cross-country marathon.  He was the paramedic assigned in place of Chase to oversee the welfare of the runners.  The moment the race was finished, he was going to have a long talk with Tiffany.

With another ten miles left on his drive to MacMillan Park, he decided to use the time to think about how he would break the news to Tiffany.  Before he could fully form his first thought, his cell phone rang.  He put it on speaker and placed it in a hands-free holder on the dashboard.  Safety first. Sadly, he had responded to way too many deadly accidents that were the result of drivers playing with their mobile devices.  Parker was a strong believer in keeping both hands on the wheel.

“Hi, dad.  What I can do you for?”

“Don’t be flippant, Parker.  You know damn well what I want you to do.  It’s time for you to stop this nonsense and get down to the business of being a doctor.”

“I can’t do that. I—”

“You can, and you will.  The only thing standing between you and a respectable career is a damn exam.  The testing center at the Medical University in Charleston has an opening next Saturday.  I expect your ass to be there bright and early, sitting in a front row seat with your pencils sharpened.”

“I already have a respectable career. I—”

“Like hell you do! You have a job that requires six months training—a monkey could do it.  Do you know how disgraceful that is to me and your mother? For God’s sake son, you went to medical school.  By all standards, you’re already a doctor.  Yet, for some stubborn-ass reason, you insist on being a glorified chauffeur.”

It was all Parker could do not to turn the sirens on and speed to his parents’ condo.  At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to punch his dad in the mouth.

“Careful, Dr. Sloan.  If it weren’t for us monkeys, many of your patients would never make it to the hospital for you to play God.”

Parker was surprised by the silence on the other end of the phone.  When his dad spoke again, his voice was a little less condescending. 

“Look son, paramedics play a pivotal role in the medical community.  But it’s not the role you were born to play.  The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can all move on with our lives.  The Atlases will be joining us for dinner this evening.  I expect you to be there.  It’s time for you to propose to Tiffany.  I want the two of you to set a date.  Your mother and I will throw you an engagement party on Martha’s Vineyard.  One fitting for a doctor and his bride-to-be.”

Parker ended the call.  Anything else he had to say on the matter was best said in person.

SAFFRON PINNED THE NUMBER 35 to the front of her bright-yellow T-shirt.  The color was in perfect contrast to her light mocha skin.  Her mama had been lily white, but her daddy was as dark as a starless night.  She knew her skin tone was a mix of the two, but it wasn’t until after Starla died that Saffron found a picture of him.  It had been tucked behind a loose board on the back wall of her mama’s bedroom. 

She still didn’t know her daddy’s name and, according to Wavalee, Starla probably didn’t either.

None of it really mattered now anyway.  Saffron turned out pretty damn good despite her parents.  The only real scars she carried were emotional ones, and those were in the form of trust issues.  All the time she was growing up, she vowed to never let any man do to her what had been done to her mama.  No matter how lonely she got, she promised herself she wouldn’t fall prey to a fast and furious love affair that could leave her broken.  She didn’t want what happened to Starla to happen to her.  No man was worth that.

As she took her place at the starting line, she found herself wishing Wavalee was there to cheer her on.  But, bless her heart, she was still fighting a nasty springtime cold which was a whole different animal when it came to older folks.  Saffron could hear how nasally and congested she had sounded on the phone. 

Truthfully, Saffron would have rather been taking care of Wavalee than running.  But, all the ladies from the beauty parlor had made their pledges, and she needed to honor her commitment.  Raising money for the senior dogs was super- important to Wavalee and, therefore, super- important to Saffron.