Book Boyfriends Wanted 6: His Curvy Outcast
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Mary E Thompson
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16
Chapter 1
Book 6: His Curvy Outcast
Willow
“No. No, no, no, no, no. You can’t do this!” I shouted as I raced to my car.
The cop turned and looked at me, then slid the ticket under my wiper. The bastard.
“I was only in there for a minute. Seriously. It was barely long enough for you to give me a ticket. Can’t you just tear that up or something?”
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.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t tear it up. And we both know you weren’t in there for a minute.” He raised an eyebrow and dared me to argue.
Fine, I wasn’t, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him. I was good at making enemies, and if he wanted to be one, I’d 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 didn’t 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 wasn’t impressed.
He turned on his heel and started to walk away, then stopped. “You should really watch where you park.”
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 didn’t matter that deliveries didn’t 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 sister’s new best friends and getting a ticket from the cop from hell, but I was in a hurry and didn’t 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 I’d 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 hadn’t 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 Melody’s 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 weren’t freezing outside, I’d 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.
“You are awesome,” I whispered into my scarf. “You are strong and smart and you can do anything. No one can tell you what you can’t do.”
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. I’d 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.
“Welcome to Islands Wellness,” a woman at the desk said. “Are you here for our next class? It starts in about twenty minutes.”
I shook my head and smiled at her. She was cute in a way I’d 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.
“Actually, I’m here for an interview. Is Kathy available?”
The woman grinned broadly even as her gaze flickered down my curvy figure. “I’m so sorry, of course. She told me you would be coming in, but I didn’t think...Let me call her.”
“Thank you,” 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 I’d 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.
“Willow Ferguson. I wondered if that was really you. I never in a million years thought you would be coming to me for something.”
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.
“Kathy Rogers? I didn’t realize you were…I thought I was supposed to meet a Kathy Davis.”
She walked right over to me and hugged me, her perfect fake smile in place the entire time. “I 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.” 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 wasn’t thin. My mom always said I was big-boned, which I took to mean I was fat. Maybe that wasn’t 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.
“Anyway, when I saw your name on the resume, I just had to have you come down so we could catch up,” 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.
“So, your resume says you don’t have any experience teaching yoga. Is that the case?”
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 wasn’t 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 Kathy’s 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 I’d done everything else in my life, something my mother reminded me of constantly.
I was no Melody. I wasn’t the one with the husband and the kid and the organized life. I was the screw up. The one who’d almost ruined my sister’s life because I wanted what she had.
I walked out of the interview numb. When Kathy said she’d let me know soon, I couldn’t handle anymore. I turned on her and said, “You know what, don’t bother. We both know you aren’t 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. I’m not interested in the job anymore. I don’t want it.”
She scoffed and crossed her arms. A smirk curled her lips. “You aren’t qualified. You have no training. You’ve never taught a class. Why would I hire you, even if I wanted to? You’re the same person you were in high school. You think you can do whatever you want, but we’re adults. I have responsibilities to my clients. They’re not going to come here to take yoga from…” Her scornful gaze slid down my body and I felt like I weighed a thousand pounds. “…you. They want to be healthy and fit. This isn’t a joke for them, or for me. But thanks for coming in.”
I sucked back the emotion in my throat and swallowed roughly. I didn’t 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 hadn’t 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 Kerri’s 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.
“Seriously?” 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 hadn’t gone out at all.
I shrugged. “I need to stop hiding. Especially since it appears as though I’m going to die in this town.”
“You didn’t get the job?” she asked.
I shook my head. Brittany was the only person who knew I had an interview. I didn’t tell her when it was, but she knew it was soon.
“We need drinks. Lots of them. Because I’m happy you’re staying, and you should be, too. There are plenty of hot men here, and there’s no reason to be upset when we live in a beautiful place.”
I laughed with Brittany and tried to feel some of her excitement. I loved my hometown, but I hadn’t 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 wasn’t going anywhere. The job with Kathy was the only potential one I had, and that wasn’t happening.
Brittany got us drinks while I found a table at O’Kelley’s, the local hangout. I looked around the bar while I walked, checking to make sure none of Melody or Ramsey’s friends were there. I wasn’t 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.
“There is a hottie at the bar,” Brittany said as she delivered our drinks. “I’m going to see if he wants to dance. Have you spotted anyone yet?”
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 didn’t come back to the table, and after dirty looks from groups who couldn’t 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 didn’t 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 Ramsey’s closest friends, which meant he was not a fan of mine at all. I’d 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 wasn’t my friend, so there had to be a catch. “What’s this for?”
“A peace offering,” Hudson said.
“From you?” I raised one eyebrow in question.
Hudson snorted. “No. From him.” He nodded toward the end of the bar.
I followed his nod and froze. “No. I don’t want it. Not from him.”
Hudson shrugged. “Then don’t drink it. I don’t care.”
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.
“Did I guess wrong?” a voice next to me asked. He sat on the stool to my right and acted like he belonged there.
“What do you want?”
He shrugged. “Just trying to be nice. You looked like you could use a drink. Another one.”
“Not from you,” I said firmly.
“Well, I guess I thought wrong. Have a good night.”
He walked away, disappearing into the crowd. I stared at the drink again, debating. I didn’t 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 didn’t 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.
