Read Big Gator: A BBW shape shifter paranormal romance for Free Online Page B

college and that she had worked at Marianne's Gator Rescue
non-profit. That should be worth something.  She was hoping to
get a job that would involve doing a little more than shoveling gator
shit.
                  Also,
she had to see McEvans again.  Even though he had no idea about
gator shifters, her time with him had been the best two weeks of her
life (aside from the Cliburn ambush, of course).  And clearly he
missed her, too, given the sizable reward he was offering for her
return, although he wouldn't recognize her in human form.  She
hadn't worked out all the details yet, but she felt that at the very
least they could have a good working relationship, and it was time
she start pursuing her dreams of becoming a herpetologist (sans
herpes).
                  She
decided she would first buy a ticket and watch his live gator
wrestling show, to get the audience's perspective.  When she saw
McEvans again, he was clipping on a cordless microphone to the lapel
of his shirt and welcoming everyone to Animal Sphere.  As she
sat there in the bleachers, Brandy knew there was no way she could
want just a working relationship with him. 
                  Brandy
was hopelessly in love, and she had been since the day he found her
in Miami, but she would take what she could get if that meant she
could convince him to give her a job.
                  McEvans
was stunning to behold on stage.  As he stood before the
audience, he looked like he had returned fresh from an African Safari
or had just flown in from the Australian Outback. 
                  His
smile was slightly crooked in a devilish way, but with straight white
teeth that gleamed just enough to be clean, not bleached. The buttons
of his khaki shirt threatened to pop under the strain of what had to
be a pair of fantastic pectorals and overworked abs.  His
shoulders were broad, his forearms indicative of a physically active
job, and his glutes and thighs were positively strong enough to hike
to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro.
                  Brandy
especially approved of McEvan's calves, which were well-muscled –
not spindly like she saw on a lot of men who didn't know how to work
out for real at the gym.  Brandy had come to believe – with
good reason and experience – that a man's calves said a lot about
the rest of the man.
                  Brandy
started fanning herself with the Animal Sphere brochure that she held
in her left hand.  It wasn't because of the Florida heat.
                  Meanwhile,
the alligator that McEvans was trying to deal with was not being
cooperative.  She could see why McEvans missed her.
                  Brandy
had managed to get a seat in the front row, since she was there
alone, and there's always some straggler seat with a good view if
you're alone or if you are in a group that is willing to split up.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rachel.  There was no
mistaking her.  She, too, was watching the show.  Brandy
decided to take a chance on something.
                  She
slipped out of her seat and headed over to Rachel.
                 “ I've
got a tip on Shirley,” she told her, “but I don't need the
reward.”
                  So
after the show, Rachel introduced Brandy to McEvans.
                  He
was not in a good mood. Brandy could understand why. A dumb gator in
theory is easier for a gator wrestler to dominate, but let's face it,
all serious gator wrestlers like a good challenge. Brandy/Shirley had
been the right mix of challenge and stage partner – something he
would never have experienced before.
                  When
McEvans first set eyes on Brandy, his first thought was, Wow,
that's a lotta woman .
His second thought that she looked to be a bit of a redneck, which –
in the world of gator wrestling – wasn't really a bad thing. But he
was pretty