Sit (The Shores Book 1)

by Allie York

  I pulled Jolene into a spot next to the same yellow beetle from the boutique and hopped out, grabbing my bag from the back, and rushing to the black door. It was a little brick house on a nice cul-de-sac with manicured lawns and potted plants. It was a little dream home, minus the white picket fence. I knocked, hoping if anyone else lived there that I didn’t wake them. Then I realized that her shrieking would have woken the entire neighborhood anyway.

  Ozma jerked the door open, her red face and bloodshot eyes pleading for me to help her. I followed her in, noting the booty shorts and thin tank top she was wearing. I had to stop walking to keep in control. Down, boy. Not the time.

  Ziggy was snoring on the couch like nothing was going on. I pulled the capped needle off a syringe with my teeth, grabbed the peroxide from her hand and sucked the clear liquid up into the tube. I pinched Ziggy’s jaw lightly and opened his mouth enough to shoot the liquid down his throat and held his mouth closed while he swallowed. Suddenly, he was up off the couch and looking startled.

  “You’ll wanna grab some towels. A bunch of them. Quick.” As I said it, the retching noise came from low in the dog’s throat and he puked all over the floor. Ozma squealed and jumped back, eyes wide and hands over her mouth. Her big brown eyes went from the puke to me. She turned and dashed down the hall while my gaze watched her ass bounce in those shorts. Still not the time.

  Ziggy was vomiting for the third time when Ozma came back and started cleaning up. I was still in my jeans, but sat on the floor, pulling her sick dog into my lap and covering my legs with a towel so he could throw up the remaining chocolate in comfort. He immediately puked again.

  “How much is in there?” Ozma scratched Ziggy’s ears while he dry-heaved. If he truly ate a whole pint of ice cream she was in for a long night, or we were. I wasn’t going to leave her with a sick dog, not when things could take a turn for the worst.

  “Well, all the ice cream is mixed with stomach acid and probably some dog food, so a lot. Seems like he’s getting it all up though.” As soon as I said it, he puked again. Her gorgeous brown eyes caught mine and I had to smile. Ozma returned it, revealing those dimples, and we went back to watching her dog puke. It was not how I wanted to spend time with her or to apologize for being an ass. I hated that her dog was sick, but it was nice to see her. Especially in that outfit.

  “Should we offer him some water?” Ozma started to get up but I grabbed her hand, shaking my head, “Okay.” her voice dropped to a whisper and her face went red. I looked at my hand grasping hers and let her go. That touch was like getting hit by a train. It sent a jolt up my arm like I was playing with electricity. Maybe saving her dog would be enough to clear my shitty attitude from the day before and me slamming the door into her head. I needed to make the girl hate me less. I needed her to hate me a lot less. Enough to make her want to kiss me as bad as I wanted to kiss her. I needed her to like me a lot.

  “How’s your head?” I watched her watch the dog, clenching my fist to not touch the back of her head.

  Her hand went to the back of her head and she swallowed. “Fine,” Ozma whispered, still looking at Ziggy like he would die if she blinked. “Actually, it hurts a lot.”

  “I’m sorry again for that. I don’t really have an excuse for being a dick this time, but I am sorry. I feel awful.” I stretched my legs out, but she folded in on herself, wrapping her arms around her knees.

  “Ember clued me in that you aren’t real easy to work with. Thanks for coming, though.” Ziggy got a scratch behind the ears and Ozma smiled at her dog. I know I may be a little difficult to work with, just a little, so there was no rebuttal for her accusation. Instead, I patted Ziggy’s head and rubbed my hand over my beard. The awkward silence rivaled all others, but it was my fault. I had been an ass every time I saw her, and hoped I could make up for it by saving her dog.

  Three hours and a lot of silence later, Ziggy was done puking and asleep on a pile of old blankets on the floor while I helped Ozma clean up enough dog puke to last me a lifetime. I expected the whole thing to gross her out because she seemed a little too high-maintenance to be cleaning up vomit, but I had to give her credit; she was on her hands and knees cleaning the floors right along with me. Ozma took the towels to the laundry room and I went to find a place to wash my hands. The bathroom was a wreck. It looked like a hurricane had come through and slung feminine supplies all over the room. I washed my hands, drying them on the green towels, and turned back to see her watching.

  “I may have panicked when you asked if I had a syringe.” Ozma dropped to her knees right in front of me to pick things up from the floor and my stupid cock jumped up. I couldn’t blame him that time. The woman was on her knees right in front of me, and in that outfit. Not a single part of her wasn’t sexy. Every inch begged me to touch and kiss it, but the girl hated me. Why do I have to be such an ass?

  I bent to help her, ignoring the beast straining against my zipper, “I noticed. He’s gonna be fine though.” Her teary eyes found mine and locked on. I couldn’t have pulled my gaze away if I had to. “I promise.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Ozma broke our connection to put stuff on the counter and stood, holding out her hands to take the hairbrush and pill bottles from me. “I feel like I should repay you. It’s nearly one in the morning and you sat up half the night with me and my vomiting dog.” A laugh escaped her perfect, pink lips. Damn those fucking dimples.

  I shook my head, “Call us even. I was a dick to you twice, hit you with a door, then I yelled at you for me hitting you with a door. Helping is really the least I could do. I’m just glad he’s okay.”

  “You were a pretty huge asshole, but all is definitely forgiven. You saved Ziggy.” Ozma smiled. “So, I guess I should stop coming up with horrible nicknames for you, huh? I had stopped, but then I got hit with a door,” Her face reddened deeper, “Thank you again, Dr. Oswin.”

  “Harris,” I corrected her quickly. No way was I letting her call me by a title. I wanted Ozma Greenlee the second I saw her and if I was making progress with her not hating me, I was going to run with it. “Do you need me to help clean up anymore?”

  She stooped to pick up a basket from the floor, “No, I got it, you have been so helpful. Thank you. I still feel like I should repay you or pay you or something.” Her brown eyes begged me to get lost in them, to dive in and never resurface.

  “No payment needed, but I am going to go get some rest though. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” I stepped around her to leave. Ozma promised to call if anything seemed off, and thanked me again. I wanted to hug her, but tucked my hands in my pocket and left her to finish cleaning up. After the forty-eight hours of being public enemy number one, the last thing I needed to do was make a pass at her. At least saving her dog meant I was forgiven for my jackass tendencies.

  I patted Ziggy on the head, grabbed my bag, and headed out her door and closed it behind me. It was going to be an early morning, and sleep wasn’t on my mind’s schedule with the way it was obsessing over Ozma. My brain and dick decided to work together for once, and it was bound to leave me devastated.

  Chapter Six

  Ozma

  I lifted a very exhausted Ziggy and carried him to bed with me, knowing if I didn’t get some rest, I was going to be in serious trouble in the morning. Being up past one am was more than I could handle since starting work on the Boutique. I never got my ice cream, so my stomach rumbled just as I laid back with my comatose dog. Apparently puking all night had wiped Ziggy out, because the dog didn’t even stir when I put him in bed with me.

  I studied my chunky legs on the green comforter and sighed. I really didn’t need the ice cream anyway. Ziggy didn’t either, but I wouldn’t have nearly died from it. With life slowing down a little, I needed to focus on my health for once. I glanced up from my legs to study my favorite picture hanging next to the window. It was an eleven by fourteen of Blair and me at graduation. It was just a few years of business school, but I was still
proud of us. Neither of us had parents that graduated college, so it was a huge accomplishment. Tall, beautiful Blair beamed next to me and my dimples were showing. It had been the same since we were kids. I was short, only five-two, and always a little chunky. Blair called me ‘thick’ to make it sound better than fat, but the truth was obvious.

  My weight never bothered me though. I always hid in cute clothes and had a winning personality, but suddenly my massive thighs and muffin top were very unappealing. I’d let myself go, and if I didn’t straighten up, I’d have high blood pressure like my father. I climbed off the bed and went to stand in front of my full-length mirror. I knew in my brain that I was wearing a tank and shorts, but I had no idea how gross I looked in them. Rolls bulged from around my bra and my shorts were a size too tight, making me look like a sausage. My dad’s words rolled around in my head, taking over, calling me horrible names.

  “Oh. My. God. I looked like this in front of Harris.” And to top it off, I was now talking to myself. Shit. Crap. Damn. My years of being against men were behind me. I officially had a huge crush on the world’s most perfect male specimen.

  I finished criticizing every bit of flab on my body and went back to bed, curling my blanket around me like a cocoon. Maybe after hiring another sales clerk, joining a gym to hit on my days off wouldn’t be that bad an idea. At the very least, I needed to get healthy and start eating real food for dinner.

  The next day went by in a total blur. Keeping up with our inventory flying off the shelf took most of my time, the other part was working the crowd and answering emails. We had social media notifications coming in by the dozens. A few were from local magazines or newspapers wanting a story on our popular little boutique. The remaining emails were all about jobs. Online applications seemed impersonal, so we always insisted the person come in to pick up an application and chat with us. By lunch, we were famished, completely exhausted, and my platform sandals were killing my ankles. I had seven girls coming in for applications in the next two days. Just as I sat down at the tiny office computer, my phone lit up, buzzing its way across the desk. I vaguely recognized the number, but no name popped up.

  “Hello?” I typed a response to an email as I spoke.

  “Ozma, it’s Harris. I just wanted to check on Ziggy?” I pulled the phone from my ear and checked the number, shuddering at the deep voice hitting me. No wonder it looked familiar, I had dialed it the night before.

  “Oh, hi. Hey, he’s great. Sitting at my feet like nothing happened. Thank you again for last night.” The previous night made me cover my face despite being alone in the office. I looked like a gross mess, acted like a complete panicked airhead, and had the gorgeous Dr. Oswin come save me. It was a disaster. I was a disaster. At least Ziggy was better.

  “It was nothing, I swear. My pleasure. I know you’re busy, but I wanted to check on him and remind you of his follow up appointment Friday.” Harris sounded hopeful, or maybe I just wanted him to sound hopeful. It was stupid for me to go from hating the man more than anything, to a crush in less than a day. The little flutters I was feeling in my gut while we talked were absurd. Handsome, successful men didn’t go for ‘thick’ girls like me. Especially when they acted like morons and wore ill-fitting pajamas. I shook my head to clear the thoughts. Maybe I was chunky, but I was a badass, and not an insecure idiot.

  “Yeah, see you Friday, and if you decide there’s a way for me to repay you, please don’t hesitate. I can’t tell you how thankful I am that you missed sleep to help me.” As if the pup could sense me talking about him, he hopped in my lap to lick my chin.

  “Any time. Rick was so busy at the emergency clinic last night, that I probably would have ended up helping you anyway,” My forehead hit my hand and I laughed to myself. I knew there was an emergency clinic, but my brain went straight to calling Harris instead, “It was good talking to you, Ozma. See ya Friday.” His deep voice rumbled through the phone and the line went quiet. Thankfully, I was alone to appreciate the short conversation we just had. I hadn’t had a thing for a guy in a long time, not since high school, but Harris was definitely crush-worthy. Even if the man would want nothing to do with me, a girl could fantasize.

  With emails answered, phone calls returned, and my stomach rumbling, I called to order us all lunch, settling on a soup and salad. As bad as I wanted a giant cheeseburger, my eating habits were out of control and I was ready to face that reality. It made me tired, less perky, and fat, so ‘Operation Healthy’ was on.

  Blair chewed her baked potato, pointing her fork at me as we went over applications, “So, since you are done hating Dr. Sexmagnet, can we hire his sister. I know she’s young, but she was so friendly and wants this job bad.” Ivy agreed with Blair, nodding with a mouth full of fries. Ivy could eat nothing but fries and shakes without gaining an ounce.

  “Yeah, we can at least interview her.” Truth was that I liked Rose’s bubbly personality as soon as I met her outside, but seeing her next to Harris had killed my interest in her as a candidate. With his redeeming house call, Rose was at the top of my list too. The three of us finished lunch just as the next wave of customers came in, and it was back to business.

  Ziggy was back to his normal self as soon as we got up the next morning, but I was still convinced he would drop dead at any second, so I followed him around like a psycho. Blair never came home that night, so my friend had to wait until the next morning to tell her all about my dog and the mass consumption of Ben and Jerry’s. I got a snarky comment about my poor decision to bring a dog home and how I should repay Harris with sex. I promptly punched Blair in the arm. Only Blair would make a suggestion like that.

  “So, is Dr. Oswin single?” We had just closed up and sent Ivy home to rest up for the next day when my best friend asked that little question. I nearly choked on my bottle of water.

  “I have no idea.” I turned away to fold a top so she wouldn’t see my face. The flush of heat started at my toes and worked all the way to my cheeks.

  “Whoa. That reaction tells me everything. I will stay away from Dr. Hot Vet. As Leslie would say ‘uteruses before duderuses.’ I can’t believe you have a crush on the same guy you were calling Dr. Douchecanoe a whole day ago.” I side-eyed my bestie, hoping she would shut the hell up. “Oh, tone down the death glare. I didn’t say I blamed you, I’m just surprised. You haven’t gotten all hot for a guy since Brad. I won’t make a pass at your vet, promise. He only has eyes for you anyway.” My embarrassment quickly turned to anger at the mention of Brad.

  Brad Edwards was the guy of my dreams in high school, just like every other stupid girl in school. First kiss, first crush, first one true love. Shaggy brown hair, blue eyes to die for, and an amazing, hot football playing body. Unfortunately for me he was also a first-class asswad and wannabe rapist. After dating for a few weeks, Brad took me to the corn maze and pumpkin patch. We drank cider and strolled alone through the corn, all while I fell completely in love with all that was Brad Edwards.

  When you’re sixteen, you think everything is rainbows and glitter, until your boyfriend takes a simple kiss too far and you end up standing on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere calling your best friend to come pick you up with a torn shirt and tears streaking your face. My shirt was ruined, I had a nice bruise on my cheek, and the next day at school was horrible. I was deemed a slut by some and a tease by the rest. Brad turned into a complete monster when I wouldn’t have sex with him. It was so bad that I truly contemplated homeschooling until it all blew over. It never really went away; I was always the girl who turned down Brad Edwards, or the girl who fucked every guy in school. My title really depended on who you asked. If you asked Brad, I told him no and he talked me into it with a little force. The whole ordeal was awful.

  “So, you are hot for him?” Blair poked me, pulling me from my memories.

  “I’m not hot for anyone, Blair. I just don’t want to think about Brad.” I lied. While Harris was on the floor cleaning up dog vomit with me the night before,
I was definitely aware of his amazing physique. How he had time to work out was beyond me, but he had to. His toned arms and back had to come from lifting something aside from dogs. His back had more muscles than my entire body. He smelled amazing too, crisp and clean, and then his eyes… I let out a dreamy sigh internally. The bright green of his eyes paired with the dark red hair was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. Not to mention that he most likely got out of bed to come save my dog. I really owed him something, but was definitely not hot for him. Nope.

  “Ivy wants to bowl tonight. Wanna go?” Blair snapped me out of my lusty little day dream, “There will be pizza and drinks, and Tyra can be DVR’d.” My bestie was begging. I never went out with her and Ivy. Actually, I never went out at all unless it was to clothes shop. As stylish as I was hell bent on being, and as friendly as I was, going out to drink wasn’t my thing. Maybe my father’s drinking after Mom left had something to do with that. When we found out she died, it just got worse and Douglas Greenlee turned into a full-blown alcoholic to ice his psychotic cake.

  “Actually, bowling sounds fun, but I want you to come home with me tonight, not with some random guy,” If I had to miss Tyra, she could come home with her roommate. I watched Blair contemplate my answer, suddenly envying her lean face and graceful neck. I was never jealous of her, ever, but the sudden realization that I looked like a frumpy loser next to her was glaringly obvious. No wonder she ended up with hottie after hottie while I held tight to my V-card. Even if I wanted to find a guy to sleep with, guys didn’t ask out the chubby girl, no matter how winning her personality was or how cute her clothes.

  “You have a deal, Ozzy!” My best friend grinned, shaking my hand eagerly. All my jealousy drained. How could I ever be jealous of Blair? It was no one’s fault but mine that I had put on too much weight. I was happy with my life, everything was turning out just like it was supposed to, but the truth was, I was hiding some issues behind overeating and cute clothes. By issues, I meant my sorry excuse for a father and the rejection of my mother, and by some issues, I meant a lot of them.