Not the Hot Chick: A BBW New Adult Serial Romance (Not the Hot Chick series Book 1)

Contents

Title page

Not the Hot Chick

Connect with N. Raines

Kindle Titles by N. Raines

Dedication

Copyright page

Not the Hot Chick

(Book 1 in the Not the Hot Chick Series)

N. Raines

Not the Hot Chick

Jessi Wallace eyed the cute bartender's butt the way a hungry cat might eye an unsuspecting bird. She actually licked her lips. "I am
so
going to do him."

Layla Messner held back a sigh, took another sip of her lemon-drop martini, and asked herself for the sixth time that night,
Why am I here, again?

She should have known better than to accept Jessi's invitation to go out tonight. They weren't really friends, just across-the-hall neighbors in the same apartment complex that housed many of the Buff State students here in Buffalo, New York. She and Jessi would nod and smile when they passed each other, occasionally stop and chat, but they'd never partied together. So it had been quite the surprise when Jessi tapped on her door two hours ago with a smile and an invitation: "Feel like cutting loose tonight?"

Silly Layla, thinking Jessi was trying to be friendly. More likely, she just wanted a wingman—or wingwoman in this case—and had no one else to step out with.

Jessi leaned over the bar provocatively in her low-cut top, calling to the bartender and pointing to her empty glass. "Can I have another down here?"

Oh, God, she was actually batting her eyelashes. And the way she was leaning to flash her cleavage, it was a wonder her boobs didn't fall right out onto the bar.

Layla glanced down at her own chest, pulling back her shoulders. Her boobs weren't so bad, even if they weren't shown off as blatantly as Jessi's. Layla knew she had nothing to be ashamed of in that department. If anything, she'd been generously blessed.

The problem was, she was a little too blessed in other areas as well. "Curvy" would be a kind description. "Chubby" might be more to the point.

Jessi, on the other hand, had a body that was every guy's wet dream. She had big breasts and a tiny little waist that curved out to a rounded pair of hips. The tight, short skirt she wore had every guy in the room craning his neck for a second look at her ass.

The place was pretty quiet for a Friday night. But then again, it was the weekend before spring break, and much of the college-age crowd that usually frequented the Shamrock had already left town. Layla had a four-hour drive to get to her parents' house and was wiped from spending the day with a class of hyper first graders. Morning would be soon enough to make the trip home.

The bartender ambled down their way and gave them both a smile. "Ready for another, ladies?"

Layla's heart warmed at the way he included her in the offer. He didn't just ignore her, the way some guys did, to focus on her prettier companion.

Jessi smirked and tapped the rim of her glass. "I'd like another Hard Fast Screw please." She practically purred the order for the Shamrock's variation of a screwdriver.

"You got it." He directed his gaze at Layla, and her heart gave a little flip. It was too dark in the bar to tell what color his eyes were, but she knew they were beautiful. Just like the rest of him. Dark hair, a buff body, and a gorgeous face. High cheekbones, a straight nose, chiseled lips. Those lips moved, but Layla was too mesmerized by his looks to pay any attention to what he was saying.

She blinked. "Uh, excuse me?"

"He asked if you want another drink." Jessi's cutesy moves were forgotten as she gave Layla the death stare.
Don't poach on my territory.

As if. Still, a girl could dream, couldn't she?

"No, thanks," she answered. "I'm good."

When he turned to fix the screwdriver, Jessi leaned over the bar again to check out his ass. As she sank back onto her stool, she fanned herself and mouthed,
"He's fine."

You don't need to tell me that,
Layla thought.
Just because I don't stand a chance with him doesn't mean I don't have eyes.

The bartender
turned and placed the drink in front of Jessi. "Here you are."

"Thanks." Her voice was slow and sultry. She slipped a ten across the bar and made sure to touch his hand when he reached for it. "I'm Jessi. What's your name?"

A corner of his mouth hitched up as his gaze slipped to settle in Jessi's cleavage. She thrust back her shoulders, inviting a closer look. "Hi, Jessi. I'm Cameron. Just call me Cam."

"Hi, Cam." She looked at him through her lashes. They eyed each other silently.

Well, I guess I'm just invisible over here,
Layla thought sourly. She cleared her throat. "I'm Layla."

Cam's gaze drifted her way. "Hey, Layla." He dipped his head in acknowledgment before his attention homed back in on Jessi. "I've seen you here before, haven't I?"

"Oh, a few times, maybe," Jessi answered coyly, swirling the little plastic straw around in her drink. "I'm flattered you remember. My friend and I just happened to pop in spur of the moment."

It took all Layla's self-control not to roll her eyes.
Spur of the moment? Was that why you nearly yanked my arm off dragging me in here?

They'd been walking down Elmwood Ave when Jessi grabbed her and hauled her toward the front door. "Here it is. The Shamrock. Let's go in. There's a really hot bartender who works here."

And here he stood, Cam Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was. The reason for Jessi laughing a little too brightly and flashing her boobs all evening. As if that weren't enough, Jessi was performing what looked like oral sex on her drink straw, running her tongue along its length, sucking it in and out of her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. She gave Cam a smoldering look as he watched her intently.

Layla began a silent countdown.
Hooking up commencing in 3…2…1…

"I've got a break coming in about ten minutes." Cam's voice was low and gravelly. His eyes glittered.

Jessi smirked. "I can hold out that long, I guess."

"Meet me behind the building. Go past the bathrooms, right out the back door."

Jessi flipped back her chestnut hair. "You got a car out there?"

It was Cam's turn to smirk. "Does it matter?"

"No. Not really." She slipped off the bar stool and stood. "Just gonna visit the little girl's room. See you in ten."

Cam watched Jessi's ass wiggle away, then turned to Layla. She didn't realize she'd been gaping until he chucked her under the chin. "Close your mouth, little Layla."

She snapped her mouth shut, not sure which startled her more—his touch or the fact he'd called her "little." True, she was only five feet two, but no one had used that adjective for her since grade school.

"You're cute," Cam said.
"You're blushing. Like you've never seen two people arrange to hook up before."

She
was
blushing, damn it. Her ears and cheeks were so hot, they must be bright red.
Damn her fair skin, she could never hide her embarrassment about anything. She took after her mother that way, inheriting not only the fair Scandinavian complexion, but the blonde hair and blue eyes as well. Unfortunately, she got her body shape from her dad's side of the family. "Sturdy peasant stock," as Grandma Messner would say.

Trying to play it off and be nonchalant, she picked up her drink. "Sure I have." Just never so blatantly, that's all. In ten minutes he and Jessi would meet behind the building and…

"You really do have a car, don't you?" Where the hell had that question come from?

He raised his eyebrows and gave her a look that was teasing and mysterious. "Do I?"

Okay, now he was just playing with her. "I mean, uh," her face flamed again, "it's, like, only thirty degrees out there." The calendar might say it was spring, but tell that to the frigid winds off Lake Erie. "The two of you aren't just going to—"

"Aren't going to what? Have hot, nasty sex standing up against the building? Believe me, we won't notice the temperature."

Whoa. All right, that did sound hot. Flames licked through her as she pictured it. Trouble was, she wasn't seeing Cam and Jessi going at it. In her mind, Cam was doing the deed with her, Layla.
Her
back scraping against the wall as he plunged into her. Her legs wrapped around Cam's hips as they pumped back and forth. Her core rippling around his hard cock……

Oh, God, stop thinking about
it
. She gulped some of her martini to cool off.

"Doing it where you might get caught any minute," Cam murmured as he rubbed a rag round and round in the same spot on the bar. Shit, could he tell what she was thinking? "The danger makes it even hotter."

Layla had just taken another mouthful of her drink when Cam leaned in toward her. "Haven't you ever had public sex, little Layla?"

She choked, the alcohol burning as it went down the wrong way. It wasn't quite a spit take, but came close.

Cam's teasing expression turned instantly into one of concern. "You all right? Take it easy, there."

She coughed and shrank away when he made to pat her back. She was worked up enough without him touching her. "I'm good, thanks. I'm fine." Tears sprang from her eyes.

He frowned. "You don't look fine." A moment later he placed a glass of water in front of her. "Drink some of this."

She wheezed, picking up the glass. "Thanks."

He watched her take a sip. "Better?"

She cleared her throat, wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Yes. Thanks."

"So, Layla." He picked up the bar rag and tossed it somewhere out of sight. "You don't know about your friend's reputation?"

"What do you mean, 'reputation'?"

"She's practically famous among the local bartenders. She sees one she likes, hits on him, they get busy." He shrugged like it was old news. "Guess it's my turn."

Layla twisted her lips into a frown. "And you wouldn't dream of turning her down, of course."

Cam glanced at her, honestly puzzled. "Why would I do that?"

Why indeed? What red-blooded man in his right mind would refuse Jessi Wallace offering herself on a silver platter?

What's wrong, girl? You jealous? Wish it could be you instead of Jessi?

Yeah. Maybe she was. Maybe she did.

"Practically famous, huh?" The rim of the water glass clinked against Layla's teeth.

"Hey, guys talk, you know," Cam said. "I'm friends with a few other bartenders, word gets around. She's hit most of the spots along Elmwood. This one must be next on the list. Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine."

"
Casablanca
," Layla answered automatically.

Cam's eyebrows lifted. "You know it."

"Hello. Only the most romantic movie ever filmed. Everyone knows it."

"You'd be surprised."

Jessi was outraged. How could anyone not know
Casablanca
? If this were a black-and-white film and Cam were wearing a white jacket and smoking a cigarette, he could be Rick. And Layla, in red lipstick and a mysterious veil hiding her face, would be Ilsa.

"It's only ever a one-time thing, from what I hear," Cam said.

His voice pulled Layla out of her fantasy. "Excuse me?"

"Your friend. Jessi. She likes to hit it and quit it. That's the word, anyway."

Oh. They were back to that. "Whatever." Layla's tone was flat. She wasn't into slut-shaming and didn't judge, or particularly care, what Jessi did in her free time.

She just didn't like the thought of her doing it with
this
bartender.

Sure, Layla. Like you'd ever stand a chance with him.

She'd had boyfriends and they'd been nice guys. Sweet, kind, smart. But none of them had been
hot
. Like Cam.

She couldn't ever expect to be with a guy like Cam, even in her wildest dreams. Because she wasn't like Jessi. Layla Messner simply was not a hot chick.

Climbing down from the bar stool, she murmured, "Think I'll freshen up a bit myself."

Jessi stood at the mirror, fluffing her hair, and barely glanced at Layla when she entered the ladies' room. "Has his break started yet?"

"Soon, I guess."

"Cool." Jessi pulled a lip wand out of her bag and began to apply a pink shimmer to her lower lip. "Listen, you don't mind getting home on your own, do you?"

Demoted from wingwoman to third wheel, just like that. Though the walk to their complex wasn't far, it annoyed Layla to be so rudely dumped. "So I'm supposed to just—"

"See, if everything goes the way I think it will with Cam-a-licious out there, I'll just hang around 'til closing and go home with him."

Layla had a feeling Cam wasn't aware of this new development. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. I'll get him to take me home in the morning. Ooh! Maybe he has a bike! I bet he does. Wouldn't I look hot on the back of his Harley?" Jessi swirled her hair around her shoulders, as though picturing the wind blowing through her mane.