BIG: (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance) by Emme Rollins

us.”
     
    “Oh, no,” she lied. “I remember you.”
     
    “Sure you do. Hey, what’s the difference between a lawyer and an accountant?” Alan asked, giving her a wide grin.
     
    “Uhhh…” She glanced over at Ric, hoping for rescue. He stood just a few feet away, still holding her plates, but he’d been waylaid by another guest. “I don’t know?”
     
    “At least the accountant knows he’s boring.” Bremmen burst out laughing, and Annalesa laughed too—not because she thought the joke was all that funny, but because he clearly thought it was hilarious.
     
    “Excuse me, Mr. Bremmen,” she said politely, holding up Ric’s plate. “I’m going to find a table. The food looks delicious, help yourself.”
     
    Annalesa edged away from the lawyer, closer to Ric. She saw one of their ex-neighbors milling around, enjoying the free liquor. Jon Church and his wife, Marie, had moved from Maine and were now living in Boston after selling their land to Brad. He’d used it to expand the Ryker Arms US HQ compound. She thought Jon also owned Ryker shares, but she couldn’t remember for sure.
     
    She’d just sidled up next to Ric and handed over his plate when the perfectly coiffed woman in the motorized wheelchair whirled around in their direction and Annalesa finally recognized her.
     
    Never mind that she was almost double her previous size or that she’d bleached her hair blonde—it was definitely their piano teacher. Mrs. Whelan was exactly the kind of personality that would get Ric going and Annalesa didn’t want him getting worked up before he had a chance to imbibe a great deal more alcohol.
     
    Annalesa took a rapid step back, scraping the side of her shoe down Ric’s ankle, hearing him hiss in pain.
     
    “Leesa!”
     
    “Sorry. Mrs. Whelan’s coming,” she said through a painted-on smile, barely moving her lips, like a ventriloquist. “Run!”
     
    “Huh?”
     
    Annalesa tried speaking his language. “Evil piano teacher at six o-clock!”
     
    “What? Crap. All right, let’s get this over with.” He turned and cast a huge smile down at Mrs. Whelan as she brought her chair to a halt inches from their toes.
     
    “Annalesa? You used to be such a skinny little thing! You really filled out!” Mrs. Whelan’s gaze swept over her, and Annalesa bit her tongue at the woman’s comment so she wouldn’t open her mouth to mention just how much Mrs. Whelan had filled out. “And—Ricard? Oh my God! Can that really be you?”
     
    “It’s Ric.” He bent and kissed Mrs. Whelan on the cheek. “How you doing?”
     
    “But you were sooo ... BIG!” The woman’s hands made a circle like she was trying to hold a beach ball, as if that indicated Ric’s previous shape, and Annalesa felt her hackles starting to rise. But Mrs. Whelan just kept talking. “How was the surgery? You know, I’ve thought about it myself. That much weight—it doesn’t just disappear without help.”
     
    “I did have help,” he agreed amiably and Annalesa stared at him.
     
    “He did it through diet and exercise,” she interjected, furious at the assumption that Ric had cheated somehow. “And he’s worked very hard to keep himself in shape.”
     
    She saw him give her a warning look.
     
    “Well, I’m sure a little female attention will give you plenty of incentive in that department.” Mrs. Whelan looked him up and down with a smirk and a light in her eyes Annalesa really didn’t appreciate. “I can’t believe it... Brad’s boy’s turned into quite the catch.”
     
    “He’s not a bloody fish.” Annalesa’s words were barely audible, even to her, but she just couldn’t keep them inside. Ric raised an eyebrow at her and she managed to smile up at him.
     
    “So, what about you, Annalesa?” Mrs. Whelan sipped her wine, her speculative gaze sweeping up and down, missing nothing. “I heard you went back to England? Not to study music, surely. We both know your musical talents were... shall we