The Man Who Saved Me

It had only been two months since she’d rid herself of Frederick, the smooth-talking, slimy bas*ard.

At least she’d gotten rid of him.

Maybe, thought Shonali, what she needed was something new. If she couldn’t find Adam Catten for closure, maybe she could do something to give herself closure and let herself move on.

The more she thought about it, the more attractive the idea became.

By the time she finished her coffee, she was so enthusiastic about it that she decided to treat herself to pancakes and caramel sauce for breakfast.

There might be many women who think of what pancakes and caramel sauce would do to their hips.

Shonali Wilde was not one of those women, and she never would be.

Shonali had curves and she liked them. If anybody didn’t like them, she figured that it wasn’t her problem. She didn’t force anybody to look at her.

She had generous bre*sts, a narrow waist, wide hips and an ass that could make men weep in joy. Her legs were long, but strong enough to kick a man through a wall if he was inappropriate with her. Now all healed, she really appreciated having both in such fine shape.

Shonali’s years of physical therapy had made fitness a habit. She liked eating the food she loved, and she loved making her body stronger. But she had never felt any need to be thin.

It was, she figured, just a phase. The world would love curvy women again soon enough.

Besides, she was hot.

Fred might not have thought so. No, she didn’t think so. He did think she was hot, and he hadn’t liked it, because she never downplayed it.

And she never would. Shonali shrugged it off as easily as that as she got the pancake batter together – from scratch, of course – and let it stand while she made caramel sauce, also from scratch.

She watched the dark brown sugar begin to melt, added the butter, and loved the drama of it.

When it foamed as she added the cream, she grinned. A generous pinch or two of salt, and it was ready. Now to make the pancakes, and she’d breakfast like a queen.

It was almost as satisfying as a long bike ride.

She still indulged in those, but she had to admit that she didn’t find as much pleasure in it as she used to. An accident that had nearly lost her everything could do that, she supposed.

Still, she still loved bikes. She had refused to let fate take that away from her. She would not be denied what had made her so happy for so long.

Anyway, Carlos would’ve been shocked beyond words if she had even considered it. So would Malia.

She smiled as she thought of both of them.

Through everything, they had been there. They had helped her, and kicked her ass when she needed that, too. She’d never be coddled by either of them.

But then, Shonali had never done well, being coddled.

Maybe that was part of being strong. But sometimes, Shonali suspected that that was a weakness.

But that was altogether too much moroseness for a celebratory breakfast, meant to underline her new decision. She could hardly wait to tell Carlos and Malia all about it. Carlos, for one, would approve. He found it a bit of a disgraceful anomaly that she hadn’t taken that step already.

Malia, of course, would shrug and tell her to choose something that would sag well.

Malia never minced her words, but Shonali had never known anybody with a truer heart.

The prickly exterior was just a way for Malia to protect herself. Shonali knew that. But she also knew that Malia would never appreciate being told so, so Shonali kept her thoughts on the matter to herself.

You’d never think so to look at her, mused Shonali. Malia looked like a little golden pixie. Carlos always seemed like a giant next to her.

But Shonali fell somewhere in the middle.

She’d never considered herself beautiful. Oh, she had oodles of s*x appeal, and a confidence that most people thought was remarkable for a woman who had so many scars and who, according to most of society, was a bit too big to be attractive.

As if she cared, thought Shonali, pouring herself a rare second cup of coffee.

She usually had one mug of coffee that could hold about a pint, with just a bit of milk and a fairly generous helping of sugar. A second was a rare treat, mostly because she liked the jolt of caffeine a bit too much. After what had happened to her, being in control had become more important to her than ever before.

It was a nearly impossible thing to find Shonali having a fourth glass of wine. A third was rare. A second was an indulgence that she often permitted herself.

After all, when you nearly lose everything, you realize that just breathing is a reason for celebration. Why would you deny yourself indulgences when everything could be taken away from you at any moment?

All of that made it even more infuriating that she had fallen for Fred.

Oh, he’d been charming, of course. And handsome. Oh, he’d been so very handsome!

Malia had never liked him. Shonali had assumed that Malia’s undeniable and nearly unearthly beauty helped her look past similar beauty in others. She knew her own flaws far too well to overlook any faults at all in a beautiful person, just because they were beautiful.

But Malia was also a true friend. Even knowing that disaster was just around the corner, Malia had patiently bitten her tongue, possibly about a billion times, and still hoped that she’d been wrong.

When it turned out that she’d been right after all, all Malia had done had been to turn up and pick Shonali up again.

Everything she should’ve done, in fact.

She’d never said those horrible words that had the power to end many relationships, including friendships: ‘I told you so.’

Even if she had told her so, multiple times.

Well, it was all in the past. Shonali assured herself that she was completely over all of it. None of it mattered anymore.

Shonali had needed to know, deep inside, that she was still capable of loving somebody.