Her Teddy Bear by Mimi Strong Page A

my blue and black hair. The skirt matched perfectly.
    Back in the kitchen again, my mother gave her approval. All was perfect for about ten seconds, and then she spoke wistfully of how she missed my natural hair color, brown.
    “But I suit blue hair,” I said.
    “You suit brown hair too, sweetie. And it looks nicer.” She grabbed my hair and frowned. “So damaged. All split ends.”
    I groaned and felt about fourteen again.
    The doorbell rang.
    My heart fluttered with excitement, which surprised the hell out of me. Was I actually excited about my sister's lame, hairy co-worker? And it wasn't just my heart, either, but an equally fluttery and delicious feeling happened between my legs.
    That sensation, that insta-lust, must have been triggered when I saw his shape. Through the privacy-etched glass panels to the sides of the front door, I could make out his large frame. He was a tall one. Big.
    The usually-quiet flesh within my panties began to throb, aching with desire.
    Big.
    I opened the front door, expecting his actual dorky appearance to blow out the candle flame of my desire, but seeing him had the exact opposite reaction.
    He was huge, well over six feet tall, which made him way bigger than my dad. I'm petite, and the people in my family are all small, and I tend to date skinny dudes who are really into art and listening to music, not going to the gym.
    “Trevor MacIntyre,” he said, extending one big mitt of a hand toward me. “You're even cuter than Nikki said.”
    “Nikki said I was cute?” I let him shake my hand in his nice, warm palm. His knuckles were covered in dark hair that ran up to his wrists and under his leather jacket.
    “She didn't mention the blue hair,” he said, “but that's okay.” He had a beard, and he grinned, his thick lips revealing some manly chompers and a friendly smile. “I like surprises.”
    “Me too.”
    My mother snuck up behind me and reached her arm around me to shake his hand as well. I could see by her body posture she was taken in by his charm. She asked him about where we were going (dinner and a movie) and how he got into real estate development (family business) and then told him, and I kid you not, “Naomi doesn't have a curfew. So you kids have fun.”
    I stared at my mother, my mouth open in shock. Really? Really, Mom? Why don't you just write him a permission slip to have sex with me?
    He told her we had a lovely home, and he admired the landscaping out front.
    Scowling at her, I said, “Don't worry, Mom. I'll be home at a decent time. I wouldn't want to keep you and Dad up.”
    She waved her hand at me, while eyeballing Trevor. “Don't be silly,” she said between giggles.
    I hugged and kissed her goodbye, then stepped out and shut the door behind me.
    Trevor gave me a big smile and said, jokingly, “Wow, your mother's really protective of you. What's your father like?”
    “About the same, but less flirty.”
    Trevor opened the door of his vehicle, a sporty and very tall truck, and said, “I bet he's nice. Nikki's a real sweetheart at the office, so it's no surprise her family is so cool.”
    I stared at the big step up to the seat of the truck.
    “That's a big truck,” I said. It was a long way, and with my short legs combined with my tight skirt, me getting in on my own wasn't going to happen.
    “It's practical,” he said. “Because of the business. Sometimes I have to pitch in and haul equipment on or off a work site, or signage. Lots of signage.”
    We stood there making small talk about signage and cargo space for a few minutes, until finally I said, “You're going to have to lift me up into your big truck.”
    He glanced down at my little feet, in my ballet flats, and laughed—a big, hearty, manly laugh, like oh-ho-ho , but not in a Santa Claus way.
    Then he swept me up, in his arms, cradling me. He picked me up as easily as a bag of chips, and my heart skipped a little. I thought of kissing him on those red-hued lips of his, being tickled