Page 1 of His Curvy Woman

Chapter 1

Whitley Grant

“What an asshole!”I say under my breath as the bartender helps yet another person who isn’t me. The tourists have taken over our tiny island town of Emerald Isle, North Carolina, now that summer has arrived. It’s Sunday night and Beach Bums, the bar my brother wanted to come to, is packed like it always is. I’m in no mood to play second fiddle to the tourist trollops tonight. I’ve been waiting for a while, and the bartender keeps helping all the women who look like they could walk a runway and has yet to work his way in my direction.

Of course, I could be getting ignored since it’s freaking Jeremy Titus. I roll my eyes. We had chemistry together in the eleventh grade and sat next to each other. He flirted with me for the first half of the year, and always asked me to help him with his work. I even thought that the cute asshole liked me until after our ice cream date, if you want to call it that, he asked me to give him a blow job. Instead of eating our ice cream at the shop, we got it to go and ate it at the beach. I was having a pretty good time. Jeremy was always a cocky asshole, but he seemed sweet at times too. I just thought it was the way he was. Then he grabbed my hand and put it on his dick and told me he deserved some appreciation for taking me out. After I took my hand away and awkwardly declined his request, he told me that I should feel lucky he took pity on a fat girl like me. I shoved what was left of my ice cream in his face then got out of his car. I called my mom to come pick me up, never telling her what really happened. Jeremy ignored me for the rest of the year, which was fine by me, and I blew off any guy that ever seemed interested. It’s not like they measured up to the only guy that was ever worth it.

I’m so tired of men treating me like I’m invisible because I don’t look some woman on the front cover of a magazine with perfect hair and makeup. Sure, my jeans are double digits, and I wear a 40DD in my bra, but it sure would be nice for a guy to open a door once in a while or say excuse me when they step in front of me at the grocery store. “What do I have to do to get a damn drink around here?” I fume, louder than I should.

“Are you even old enough to be drinking?” I hear someone behind me ask while laughing.

Is this guy for real? Who is he to judge if I’m old enough to be in a bar? I’m in no mood to deal with another man thinking he can do and say whatever he wants. What gives men the right to talk to women and treat us like we’re less than? Unless we have big tits, a flat stomach, and an ass like Kim K., men act like we aren’t worth basic human decency.

I spin around, ready to let this guy have it. “I’ll have you know…” I don’t even get my snarky response out because standing in front of me is the biggest guy I’ve ever seen. He’s got to be over six and a half feet tall and is crazy muscular. The guy has muscles on top of muscles that are decorated with colorful tattoos that start at both wrists and go up and under the white t-shirt that’s sculpted perfectly around his strong shoulders. “Sweet Jesus!” I mutter.

He laughs, and my eyes fly from his chest to his sea-green eyes, the same sea-green eyes that I spent a summer getting lost in. He’s the boy I’ve compared all others to since I was fourteen. He stole my heart without even knowing it and never gave it back. Now he’s standing in front of me looking a lot less like the boy I fell head over heels for and more like the man who is about to ruin me. I’m in deep, deep trouble. “Hunter Stone,” I whisper.

Hunter Stone played football with my older brother Ramsey when they were in high school. The team used to come over and hang out a lot to swim in our pool during the summer. Especially the summer before I became a freshman and they were going into their senior year. Hunter was always the quiet one when everyone else was rough and rowdy. When they would ignore me, or worse, make fun of my awkward teenage body and crazy curly red hair, he’d tell me not to listen to them. There were even a few times he’d stop by before Ramsey got home and we’d talk about trivial things, that seemed important then. I always thought he was just being nice, but to me, those stolen conversations meant everything. He’d help my mom with whatever she needed and even helped Ramsey, and my dad restore an older model car. He spent so much time over at our house he became part of the family for a while. He was Ramsey’s best friend and like my parent’s adopted son. He never felt like family to me, he felt like so much more.

Then it all changed when he and his family moved in the middle of the football season and didn’t tell anyone where he went. I tried asking Ramsey about it, but he would just brush me off and tell me not to worry about it. Over the years, I have wondered about him. Where he was and what he was doing. I never told anyone about the huge crush I harbored for him. He was four years older than me, and my brother’s best friend. It was too embarrassing to tell even my best friend, Andi. She would have done something awful like blurt it out to my brother, or even worse, Hunter.

“Little Whitley Grant. There’s no way in hell you’re old enough to be drinking in this bar.” He drawls in a southern accent and gives me a wicked grin that makes my pussy throb instantly.

“Twenty-one as of April 9th.” I manage to get out even though my heart is beating rapidly in my chest, and my head is spinning. Where in the hell has he been for the last seven years?

“I stand corrected.” He winks. “Here, let me help you.” He puts his thumb and index finger in his mouth and lets out a loud whistle getting everyone’s attention. The bar quiets instantly, and everyone looks in our direction, even the Jeremy who’s been busy flirting with some girl stops and looks. “Yo’ Bucko, can the lady get a drink?” He yells above the crowd.

Within seconds everyone goes back to their conversations, and the noise around us returns to normal. “Well, you haven’t changed a bit, have you?” I ask sarcastically.

He smirks and is about to say something when Jeremy steps up to us. “Sorry about that. What can I get you?”

“Cranberry and vodka with a splash of lime.”

“You got it, babe, how about you?” Jeremy asks Hunter while starting to make my drink.

“Bottle of Heineken.”

Jeremy hands me my drink and takes the cap off a cold Heineken then gives it to Hunter. “That will be eight for yours, Whitney.” He says while staring at my boobs.

“It’s Whitley,” I say, stressing the ‘ley’ at the end.

“Don’t look at her like that again. Do we have an understanding?”

“Whatever you say, bro.”

“I’m not your bro, ‘dude.’” Hunter deadpans and lays a twenty on the bar. “Keep the change.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes and walks off.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course, I did. That guy was a tool. Plus, how could I not buy a beautiful girl a drink?”

I roll my eyes. I’m no ugly duckling, but I’ve had my share of self-esteem issues growing up on the chubby side. Hunter could have gotten any girl he wanted when he was in high school, but I never heard about him dating anyone. Now that he’s grown up, I’m surprised there aren’t women falling over themselves to talk to him.

“Right, well, thanks again. I guess I'll see you around?”

“Oh, you’ll be seeing me, Whitley.”

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