BIG BURLY PROTECTOR: An Age Gap Curvy Girl Romance

BIG BURLY PROTECTOR ERIN HAVOC Copyright © 2022 by Erin Havoc All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or person, living or dead, is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters are adults. Created with Vellum CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Epilogue Also by Erin Havoc About the Author 1 RAINEY Nothing like the holidays to remind you how lonely you are. The college campus is deserted, the coffee shops close to my apartment cold and empty, and the few friends I made in class have all gone home. I tell myself being alone is great—there are never lines, and no loud parties distracting me from my final project. The truth is, all I want is a family. A loving family, people who ask me how I am, and who want to know about my life. My mother passed away many years ago, and my father has thrown himself into his job with so much passion he’s made enough money to pay off my tuition and rent a cute one-bedroom apartment near campus. I am grateful. I have it way easier than most of my colleagues, and the car I’m driving was a gift from him, and I have a working computer and money for textbooks. But something is missing. My father. My only family. He’s never around, always too busy to talk to me, to see me. We go months and months without seeing each other when all I desire is love. Snowflakes drift against my windshield, and I slow down in front of the property’s gates. When Dad sent me a message offering for us to take some days off together at the mountain house, I almost fell off my chair. It’s been six months since I saw him, and he told me he’d be busy with business parties through the winter break. I can’t believe he’s putting some time aside for us. A thin blanket of snow covers the entrance, so there was someone in the house, but not today. Hopefully, Dad arrived a couple of days ago. I grind my teeth against the disappointment. Against the fear he’s not here, and that he’s not coming over. Rolling my window down, I brace against the cold and type the gate password in. I take my car up and around the driveway. The mountain house is big enough to be called a discreet mansion, and it’s nestled in a perfect spot. Pines and oaks embrace the house from all sides, giving us privacy. There’s a greenhouse in the back and a shack near the path that gives to the lake. When I was a child, we used to come here often, and we’d swim in the lake, or canoe, or kayak. I was ten the last time I was truly happy here. Parking in my designated spot, I sit inside the car for another moment. I’m the first one to arrive. The tire marks are possibly from the housekeeper, who my father always sends before we arrive. He’s not here yet. There are no other cars but mine. Pop music blares from my radio and I focus on it for a minute, breathing in and out, the engine purring. Dad said he’d be coming early, didn’t he? I grab my phone and check his message again. Yeah, he said we could have breakfast together. But it’s already nine, and his car is nowhere to be seen. He’s either late, or he isn’t coming at all. It wouldn’t be the first time. My stomach churns with apprehension. I glance at the rearview mirror, hoping his car will follow mine any minute now. Any minute now... Should I leave? What’s the point of coming to the house if I’m going to be alone, too? My heart thuds in my chest, beating loudly in my ears as I ask myself if I should go back home... No. No, I’m not leaving like this. Maybe Dad’s just late. Holding my phone tight in my hand, I turn the car off. That’s it, Rainey. Grab your suitcase, enter the house, and then you’ll think about it. Bracing myself for the cold again, I jump out of the car, grab my suitcase for the week, lock everything up, then run for the front door. The password is the same as always, and I let myself in and put the suitcase down. Before the door shuts behind me, I turn to deactivate the alarm. A tiny second of hesitation makes me wonder—if I allowed the alarm to ring, the security company would let my father know. Would that make him come faster? Would that convince him to come at all? I shake my head. No use getting his attention, only to make him angry at me. I type in the code, then relax my shoulders. The house is warm, and the heater is always on during the winter. My legs move on their own as I grab my things and take them to my bedroom. It looks the way I left it—the white fluffy duvet, the silky pillowcases, and a couple of plushes. The same books take my shelves—classics I enjoy re-reading, like Jane Austen and Oscar Wilde. The silence in the house is unbearable. There’s something about winter that makes everything so quiet. Snowflakes blow outside, covering the world in white. My windows give into the woods around the house, and I watch the white scene for a couple of minutes. I hate the silence. It reminds me of how lonely I am. Shrugging off my coat, I sit on my bed