Book Boyfriends Wanted 6: His Curvy Outcast
Autor
Mary E Thompson
Lecturas
104K
CapĂtulos
16
Willow's life in MacKellar Cove is anything but serene. After a disastrous job interview with her high school nemesis and a chance encounter with Rowan, a cop with his own troubled past, Willow finds herself navigating a whirlwind of emotions and unexpected connections. As they both confront their pasts and the town's tangled relationships, Willow and Rowan must decide if they can trust each other enough to build a future together.
Chapter 1
Book 6: His Curvy Outcast
Willow
âNo. No, no, no, no, no. You canât do this!â I shouted as I raced to my car.
The cop turned and looked at me, then slid the ticket under my wiper. The bastard.
âI was only in there for a minute. Seriously. It was barely long enough for you to give me a ticket. Canât you just tear that up or something?â
He shook his head, and I tried not to notice how his hair flopped over his forehead in that adorable puppy way. Maybe I should get a dog since I no longer had any friends.
âIâm sorry, but I canât tear it up. And we both know you werenât in there for a minute.â He raised an eyebrow and dared me to argue.
Fine, I wasnât, but I wasnât about to admit that to him. I was good at making enemies, and if he wanted to be one, Iâd happily take another. It seemed the only way anyone talked to me anymore was to tell me what a disappointment I was.
I glared at him for a long moment, and finally sighed and rolled my eyes. I didnât have time for it. I was busy, too busy for a newbie cop who thought he could do anything in my town.
Yeah, I knew who he was, and I wasnât impressed.
He turned on his heel and started to walk away, then stopped. âYou should really watch where you park.â
I flipped him off and snatched the ticket from under my wiper. I looked at it and rolled my eyes again. He cited me for blocking a delivery zone. It didnât matter that deliveries didnât happen at that time. Like everything else in my life, I was wrong just for existing.
I got in my car and set my coffee in the cup holder. I would have rather not spent my morning getting coffee from one of my sisterâs new best friends and getting a ticket from the cop from hell, but I was in a hurry and didnât have time to take care of everything myself. I had an important meeting to get to. And I could not be late.
I sipped the coffee as I pulled out of the parking space Iâd made for myself. As soon as I was gone, the delivery truck pulled in to make the daily delivery to Cracked, the best restaurant in town. I hadnât been to Cracked in a long time because of my sister, but I broke down and decided to give myself a little extra luck for today. It was going to be a good day.
Stupid ticket and all.
The drive south was peaceful and quiet. A few cars were on the road, but living in a small town in an area of all small towns meant that there were never many people on the road. I followed the windy path as the sun lifted into the sky and reassured me it was going to be a great day. The kind of day that was made for a fresh start. A new beginning. A new job and a new place to live where no one knew me as Melodyâs backstabbing little sister.
I could just be Willow Ferguson, a girl from MacKellar Cove who needed a change. No one needed to know anything else.
I finished my coffee and turned up the radio so I could sing along with the music. The sunshine glittered off the St. Lawrence River to my right. If it werenât freezing outside, Iâd definitely have the windows down, but January in upstate New York meant heavy winter coats and defrost blasting the windshield so I could see.
Once I made it to the building where my interview was, I smoothed a hand down my pants and over my brown hair and gave myself another pep talk. After a year of getting berated for everything I did, I needed a pep talk, even if it was only from myself.
âYou are awesome,â I whispered into my scarf. âYou are strong and smart and you can do anything. No one can tell you what you canât do.â
I felt better by the time I reached the door and smiled brightly as I walked inside the studio. It was quiet and peaceful, the tans and grays making the small space feel calming. Iâd always wanted to teach yoga, but I never let myself dream about it as a career. Too many times I let what others thought get in the way of that, but that was one good thing about not speaking to my sister or caring what she or anyone else thought of me. I was free to do the things I always wanted to do.
âWelcome to Islands Wellness,â a woman at the desk said. âAre you here for our next class? It starts in about twenty minutes.â
I shook my head and smiled at her. She was cute in a way Iâd never been. She was the kind of woman who looked like a yoga instructor. Petite and thin. I started yoga with the hope it would make me look like her, but all it had done was tone my muscles and accentuate my generous curves.
âActually, Iâm here for an interview. Is Kathy available?â
The woman grinned broadly even as her gaze flickered down my curvy figure. âIâm so sorry, of course. She told me you would be coming in, but I didnât think...Let me call her.â
âThank you,â I said, taking a step back to look around while the woman made her call. There was a studio visible through the glass to the right, and another one to the left. Behind the desk appeared to be offices and a third studio that was smaller and had blinds on the windows.
The entire space made me feel like I was meant to be there, like it was made for me. Just over an hour from home, getting a job there would mean moving, and moving would mean getting that fresh start Iâd been looking for.
I was staring into the first studio, imagining a class in progress, when a voice behind me made every hair on my body stand up.
âWillow Ferguson. I wondered if that was really you. I never in a million years thought you would be coming to me for something.â
I turned and nearly ran out the door. Kathy Rogers was standing in front of me looking perfect in her pink tank top and black leggings. She had a perfect figure and perfect hair and perfect everything, right down to a massive perfect ring on her left hand.
âKathy Rogers? I didnât realize you wereâŚI thought I was supposed to meet a Kathy Davis.â
She walked right over to me and hugged me, her perfect fake smile in place the entire time. âI got married right out of college. My husband is crazy rich and bought me this studio a few years ago. He knew I wanted to help people learn to be healthy.â Her gaze slid down my oversized body. Her perfect smile faltered at my not-perfect chubby waist and thick thighs.
I was toned, but I wasnât thin. My mom always said I was big-boned, which I took to mean I was fat. Maybe that wasnât fair, but standing next to the woman who made high school a living hell for me, I felt like I was the failed joke of a star on one of those weight loss shows on TV.
âAnyway, when I saw your name on the resume, I just had to have you come down so we could catch up,â Kathy said.
I forced a smile and saw my dreams of working there vanish before my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to tell her to go to hell and walk out the door, but I was trying to be a better person.
It sucked.
I followed Kathy to her office and took a seat opposite her glass desk. The placard on the edge read Kathy Davis, owner. Her walls were a soft green color with serene pictures artfully displayed. Everything in her office screamed money and class, two words I never would have used to describe her when we were growing up.
âSo, your resume says you donât have any experience teaching yoga. Is that the case?â
All of my perfectly reasonable explanations went out the window. All my rehearsed answers sounded flat and dumb sitting there. The only thing I wanted to do was cry because I had so many dreams that hinged on me getting this job. But I knew it wasnât going to happen. There was no way.
I went through the interview and tried to make myself sound like I was worth a gamble, but every question out of Kathyâs mouth said she just brought me there for a laugh. She never had any intention of giving me a shot.
And why would she? I had no training or experience. I had no plans for how I would do it. I was winging it, like Iâd done everything else in my life, something my mother reminded me of constantly.
I was no Melody. I wasnât the one with the husband and the kid and the organized life. I was the screw up. The one whoâd almost ruined my sisterâs life because I wanted what she had.
I walked out of the interview numb. When Kathy said sheâd let me know soon, I couldnât handle anymore. I turned on her and said, âYou know what, donât bother. We both know you arenât going to hire me. You only brought me down here to show me how much better your life is than mine. You win. I give up. Iâm not interested in the job anymore. I donât want it.â
She scoffed and crossed her arms. A smirk curled her lips. âYou arenât qualified. You have no training. Youâve never taught a class. Why would I hire you, even if I wanted to? Youâre the same person you were in high school. You think you can do whatever you want, but weâre adults. I have responsibilities to my clients. Theyâre not going to come here to take yoga fromâŚâ Her scornful gaze slid down my body and I felt like I weighed a thousand pounds. ââŚyou. They want to be healthy and fit. This isnât a joke for them, or for me. But thanks for coming in.â
I sucked back the emotion in my throat and swallowed roughly. I didnât bother to say anything else. I wanted to cry, to tell her how horrible she was, to get revenge on her. But she was right. No one would want to take yoga from me. No one would want to hire me. I was working the same job I had in high school. I was still the same person. I hadnât changed a bit.
And I had no one to blame but myself.
* * *
I was still sulking the next day when I got off work. My shift at Kerriâs Boutique was a long one, and I was tired. I needed a drink, and even though I was sure I would regret it, when my coworkers invited me out with them, I said yes.
âSeriously?â Brittany asked me. She and I had been casual friends for years. We had gone out more than a few times to pick up guys and get crazy, but since my fallout with Melody, I hadnât gone out at all.
I shrugged. âI need to stop hiding. Especially since it appears as though Iâm going to die in this town.â
âYou didnât get the job?â she asked.
I shook my head. Brittany was the only person who knew I had an interview. I didnât tell her when it was, but she knew it was soon.
âWe need drinks. Lots of them. Because Iâm happy youâre staying, and you should be, too. There are plenty of hot men here, and thereâs no reason to be upset when we live in a beautiful place.â
I laughed with Brittany and tried to feel some of her excitement. I loved my hometown, but I hadnât felt like it was really home since Melody and I stopped talking. Maybe getting back to the things I did before would help. Especially since I wasnât going anywhere. The job with Kathy was the only potential one I had, and that wasnât happening.
Brittany got us drinks while I found a table at OâKelleyâs, the local hangout. I looked around the bar while I walked, checking to make sure none of Melody or Ramseyâs friends were there. I wasnât interested in running into anyone who would report back to my sister or brother-in-law that I was there or what I was doing.
âThere is a hottie at the bar,â Brittany said as she delivered our drinks. âIâm going to see if he wants to dance. Have you spotted anyone yet?â
I shook my head and picked up my drink. Brittany went in search of her hottie and left me at the table. I sipped my drink and tried not to feel out of place. Had everyone gotten younger since I was there last? Jeez, I felt old even though I was only thirty-one. The people who looked older than me were in pairs and groups. The only single people there looked far younger. When had that happened?
Brittany didnât come back to the table, and after dirty looks from groups who couldnât find a table of their own, I decided it was about time to call it a night.
I found an unoccupied bar stool and waited for a bartender to come over so I could settle our tab. If Brittany was still there, she could open a new one, but I didnât want to risk running out on our drinks.
I groaned when I finally got the attention of the owner, Hudson Grant. He was one of Ramseyâs closest friends, which meant he was not a fan of mine at all. Iâd hoped one of the other bartenders would help me, but of course my luck was shit.
Hudson walked over and set a fresh drink in front of me. I sipped the nearly empty one I had and narrowed my eyes at him. He wasnât my friend, so there had to be a catch. âWhatâs this for?â
âA peace offering,â Hudson said.
âFrom you?â I raised one eyebrow in question.
Hudson snorted. âNo. From him.â He nodded toward the end of the bar.
I followed his nod and froze. âNo. I donât want it. Not from him.â
Hudson shrugged. âThen donât drink it. I donât care.â
Hudson walked away and left me staring at the offending drink. I glared at the cop who wrote me a ticket the day before. Did he really think a drink would make up for it?
I shook my head and pushed the drink away. I was not going to drink it.
âDid I guess wrong?â a voice next to me asked. He sat on the stool to my right and acted like he belonged there.
âWhat do you want?â
He shrugged. âJust trying to be nice. You looked like you could use a drink. Another one.â
âNot from you,â I said firmly.
âWell, I guess I thought wrong. Have a good night.â
He walked away, disappearing into the crowd. I stared at the drink again, debating. I didnât want it from him, but I definitely wanted it.
I glanced around, but he was nowhere to be seen. I brought the drink closer. He didnât have to know. I lifted it and smelled the glass. Vodka. I smiled. Another glance around, then I tipped the glass up and drained it. The liquid burned my throat as it slid down. I closed my eyes and relished the feel. It was good. So damn good.
I sucked in a breath and set the glass back down. Then I looked up and saw him across the bar, watching me. He grinned, the ass, and lifted his glass.
Dammit.
