His Curvy Enemy - Curvy Girl Dating Agency

“Evenin’, ladies.” Stone stopped closest to Sophie and put a hand on her shoulder. “What are we drinkin’?” His Cajun twang was thick and alluring, making me wonder how Sophie resisted his considerable charms.

“Margaritas,” she told him with a gentle smile. “Here to eat your weight in wings?”

Stone shrugged. “And nachos. I had five sessions today,” he grumbled, as if he didn’t love owning the gym where he trained his clients. Torturing people for money. “Gotta refuel.”

“Ladies,” Oliver said, flashing his flirty smile.

“You’re not welcome here.” My words were flat and loud, filled with sincerity.

Oliver’s blue eyes blinked in surprise and he shrugged when he realized I was serious. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry? You trashed our business to the whole damn Internet and you’re sorry? Keep your damn apology and just get out of my face!” Yeah, sure, my tirade had drawn a few stares, and I was vaguely aware that I was making a scene, but I was beyond caring. This was my career. My livelihood. “Go!”

For the first time probably in his whole charmed life, Oliver March was speechless. Silent. Shocked. He stared at me like I was the crazy person, and in that moment, I wouldn’t have argued—but Oliver had gone too far. “Right.” A quick flash that might have been hurt crossed his face, quickly replaced with his patented smug smile and shrug. “It was good to see you ladies.” Then he walked off with a smile on his face like nothing had happened. In his mind, I guess, nothing had.

“That was a little harsh, don’t you think?”

I shook my head. “Olive, you’re far too forgiving. Did you see what he said on his podcast? Did you actually hear the words? With your own ears?” She shook her head and I reached for my phone, pulling up the video before sliding the device across the table. “He called us a fraud by name, Olive. By name!” It wasn’t right. It went against the rules of small-town living. It was just plain wrong. “This means war.”

Tara choked on her margarita. “War? I’m always down for the cause, girls, because you know my Aunt Betty will tar and feather me if I don’t have your back, but don’t forget I am an officer of the law.”

“Don’t worry, Tara, this war is purely psychological. Maybe financial, if I can swing it.” It was one thing if Oliver wanted to give up on love and let some of his readers follow him down that sad, pathetic path, but it was quite another to trash my business.

“Are you even listening anymore, Eva?” Sophie’s annoyed tone snapped my attention from the notes I’d started typing on my phone and I looked up.

“What? No, sorry, I zoned out.”

“Food. You want any?”

I looked around and realized the waitress was at the table and everyone was waiting for me. “Yes. Sure. Mozzy sticks, please, with spicy marinara. Stuffed mushrooms. And another pitcher, please—this time, make it strawberry.”

“You got it, Eva.” With a wide smile, the waitress sauntered off, leaving me with three friends who stared at me like they were afraid I might have a breakdown.

Well, I wasn’t having a breakdown, just a perfectly normal response to professional sabotage. They didn’t see it, but that was all right—I did, and I would fix it. “Where’s Winslow?”

Olive shrugged nervously at the mention of her no-good boyfriend’s name. “He’s having a dinner meeting with a very important client, which they gave him because they want to make him partner.”

“Why aren’t you with him?” Sophie kicked me under the table and I frowned at her. “What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question. That is definitely a meeting where wives and girlfriends are expected.”

Olive sighed. I knew this topic stressed her out, but the guy was a first-class jerk and I wanted her to see that before she got her heart broken. “I have standing plans with you guys on Thursdays.”

Sophie put a hand on Olive’s shoulder. “We would have understood, honey. This is his future and if he’s who you want, it’s your future, too.” Sophie arched a gloating brow at me as if to say, See? There are other ways to skin a cat.

“Those meetings are so boring; I’d rather be here with you girls.” She shook her head as if trying to convince herself that whatever she was about to say was the truth. “These late nights will all be worth it when Winslow makes partner. Then, we’ll get engaged and we can start our lives.” The poor girl had stars in her eyes, but with my out-of-character behavior where Oliver was concerned, I wasn’t exactly the voice of reason at the moment.

“For your sake, Olive, I hope so.” I didn’t believe it, but she was my friend and I would be there for her. No matter what.

“Looks like you girls have an admirer or two.” Our waitress Tonya returned with a tray filled with shot glasses instead of a pitcher of margaritas.