Love Stung (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective Book 5)

  Love

  Stung

  By:

  Brooke St. James

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

  Copyright © 2017

  Brooke St. James

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Other titles available from Brooke St. James:

  Another Shot:

  A Modern-Day Ruth and Boaz Story

  When Lightning Strikes

  Something of a Storm (All in Good Time #1)

  Someone Someday (All in Good Time #2)

  Finally My Forever (Meant for Me #1)

  Finally My Heart's Desire (Meant for Me #2)

  Finally My Happy Ending (Meant for Me #3)

  Shot by Cupid's Arrow

  Dreams of Us

  Meet Me in Myrtle Beach (Hunt Family #1)

  Kiss Me in Carolina (Hunt Family #2)

  California's Calling (Hunt Family #3)

  Back to the Beach (Hunt Family #4)

  It's About Time (Hunt Family #5)

  Loved Bayou (Martin Family #1)

  Dear California (Martin Family #2)

  My One Regret (Martin Family #3)

  Broken and Beautiful (Martin Family #4)

  Back to the Bayou (Martin Family #5)

  Almost Christmas

  JFK to Dublin (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #1)

  Not Your Average Joe (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #2)

  So Much for Boundaries (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #3)

  Suddenly Starstruck (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #4)

  Chapter 1

  I was numb and exhausted as I rode the elevator up to my New York City apartment. It had been an extremely long day. It was after 10pm, and I had been gone from my apartment since 8 o'clock that morning. My neck and shoulders were so tight that they ached even when I was standing completely still. I stared at the elevator door as I made my slow journey upward.

  It had been less than a year since I left Connecticut to start a life in New York. My older sister, Macy, had been living in an artist community, and I knew she'd be looking for a roommate when she moved out, so I volunteered. I had always wanted to move to the city, anyway, so it seemed like perfect timing.

  Macy and I shared a two-bedroom apartment. I automatically got the larger of the two rooms since I came with an almost-five-year-old and all of the gear and toys that came with her. My daughter, Isabel, was born when I was eighteen, and she has been the center of my universe ever since. That was getting harder to manage recently since my hours at work had increased significantly during the last few months.

  I loved that little girl with all my heart, though, and I hated days like this where I barely got to see her at all. I was thinking about my little peanut, and feeling sad that she was already tucked in for the night when the elevator came to a wobbly stop and dinged as the doors opened.

  That wasn't the only thing bothering me, either. I walked down the hall toward my apartment, uncontrollably replaying a certain scene from earlier in my day and feeling sick at the memory of it.

  "What's the matter?" Macy asked as soon as I opened the door. I could tell by the way she spoke quietly that Isabel was sleeping in the other room.

  "Nothing," I said with a forced smile. "I'm just tired."

  "You're annoyed, too," she said, knowing me.

  "No, I'm not," I lied. "I'm just tired."

  I kicked off my shoes and crossed the living room, headed toward the kitchen. "Thank you for watching Isabel," I said.

  Macy was sitting on the couch and she turned to look at me with an appraising glance from over her shoulder. She was my sister, and I could tell by the way she looked at me that she knew there was something more to my mood than just exhaustion. I was usually able to conceal my frustration about work, but tonight I was too torn up to do anything but spill my guts.

  "I can't stand my district manager," I said. "I just can't stand it anymore." To my own horror, my words came out breathless and shaky. I hated that it made me nervous talking about him. I was paranoid where my boss was concerned—like he was somehow able to hear what I was saying if I talked about him behind his back. I instinctually looked over my shoulder just to make sure he wasn't standing behind me.

  "What's going on with your district manager?" Macy asked.

  That showed how little I talked about him in spite of the fact that he'd been a pain in the neck for the last three months of my life.

  "Nothin'," I said. I had been heading in the direction of the kitchen, but instead of continuing on that path, I stepped around the arm of the couch and collapsed onto the soft cushions next to my sister. It was all I could do to keep from crying, and I stared at the ceiling tiles in a desperate attempt to keep tears from welling in my eyes. I could feel Macy staring at the side of my face, but I didn't dare look at her. Instead, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as if I was exhausted, which I was. I let my head rest on the back of the couch, and the transition of my head from upright to resting position caused a sharp pain to go through my neck.

  The combination of my stiff neck, aching feet, and attitude of regret caused uncontrollable tears to form in my closed eyes. Before I could do anything to stop it, a huge tear escaped the corner of my eye, trailing down the side of my face and underneath my ear. I reached up and wiped it quickly and nonchalantly as if swiping a piece of fuzz off of my cheek.

  "You have got to look for another job," Macy said, sincerely. "It's not worth it. You can find something else. I was at Drake's earlier, and he totally tripped out over your dolls. He said you could make a business out of selling those things."

  I vaguely registered what Macy was saying, but I had been so preoccupied with my own thoughts that I didn't even really hear her.

  "I know I'll take a major pay cut if I go anywhere else," I said. "And I might not have any benefits for me and Isabel—at least not as good as the ones I have at Patterson & Ray. I wouldn't have a reference, so I'd have to start from square one."

  "Why wouldn't you have a reference from Patterson & Ray?" she asked.

  I could hear her, but my eyes were still closed, and now my arm was resting over them. "Because," I said.

  "You've been nothing but loyal to them for like the last eight years," she said.

  "Six-and-a-half," I said.

  "Same difference. They owe you a good referral. What's the problem?"

  "He wouldn't give it to me," I said, after a long pause.

  "Who?"

  I glanced at her. "J.R."

  "Who's J.R.?" she asked with a perplexed look on her face.

  "The district manager."

  "That's his name? J.R.? You never told me that."

  "Because I don't talk about him."

  "Has he been giving you grief the whole time you've been at the New York store?"

  I shook my head. "He just moved here a few months ago. He used to manage one of the big Milwaukee stores, and he got promoted to this district manager job wh
en John left." It seriously left me breathless to talk about him. I was sitting on the couch, doing absolutely no cardio whatsoever, yet I felt like I had just run up several flights of stairs.

  "What in the world is wrong with you?" Macy asked, squinting at me with concern.

  I smiled and sighed, closing my eyes again. "Nothing," I said. "I’m just tired, and he rubs me the wrong way, that's all." I considered the nature of my relationship with J.R., and realized my choice of words was awkward and embarrassing, so I instantly began babbling. "He's fine. It's fine. It's all good. I'm thankful that I have a good job and everything. And benefits."

  My sister's hand reached out to touch my thigh, and I let out a little involuntary gasp, pulling away and glancing at her like she might be crazy. Macy returned my expression, telling me without saying a word that I was overreacting.

  "I just don't like him," I said. "And I know he'd be mad if I looked for another job. He wouldn't give me a reference, that's for sure."

  "Then go to human resources, or go above his head."

  "I can't. I really can't. It would just be… I can't do that."

  It must have come across that I was sad or scared by the way I was talking, because Macy forced me to look directly into her eyes and stared at me with concern. "Tabitha," she said in a motherly tone. "Has this guy hurt you?"

  "No," I said simply, after taking a few seconds to think about a longer answer. "But it wouldn't be a fond farewell, either."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means I know he wouldn't be too happy with me for quitting."

  "Well, that's not his choice, is it?"

  "It kind of is when I need a good referral from Patterson & Ray if I'm gonna get another job. J.R. happens to be the person who's directly responsible for doing that."

  Macy was quiet for several long seconds. She was silent for so long that I had no idea what she was going to say once she finally spoke. "Can you please tell me why you're so shaken up?" she asked, touching my hand, which was resting on the couch between us. I wanted to pull away, but I knew Macy would think that was weird—especially after what I did earlier.

  "I'm not, I'm just… Uhhhhhh. I just wish I could rewind time and do everything differently. I should have handled everything differently. I hate the choices I've made."

  "You mean with work?" she asked.

  I considered telling her everything right then and there, but my bravery was followed by a wave of embarrassment that caused me to keep my mouth closed.

  "I'm just tired," I said. I massaged my eyebrows as if the motion might erase the thoughts from my head. "Oh my gosh, no," I whispered as I pictured myself with J.R. earlier that day. The feeling of regret that washed over me when I pictured the scene was tangible enough to cause me to mumble the words of regret out loud. I hadn't even meant to do it.

  "Oh my gosh, no what, Tabitha?" Macy asked. "Why'd you say that?"

  "I can't believe everything I've allowed. It happened so gradually that…" I trailed off, feeling too embarrassed to continue. I had a hard time trying to decide what and how much I should say. "I should have been able to figure out a way to stop him before it got to this point. It's my fault. I think something's wrong with me."

  "Don't say that. That's not true, Tab. What happened? Is that guy being inappropriate with you?"

  "I basically give him permission," I said weakly. I felt hopeless and frustrated. "He's been doing it since he first came here, and I've been going along with it the whole time. It's been building really gradually, and I definitely wouldn't have... It's my fault. I should have known how to handle it before it came to this."

  "Came to what?"

  "What's worse is that it seems like he delights in seeing me work over time—it's like he wants to make me live at the store. Even when he's not in the there, he asks about my hours and finds reasons to call, like he thinks the store would die if I'm not there every second it's open. We've fired three different employees since he took over—just at our store. Part timers, but still. I can't catch a break." I let out a long sigh, deciding how much more I wanted to say. "I'm just frustrated because somehow letting him flirt with me turned into this touchy feely stuff. It started being revolting long ago." My words got stuck in my throat and came out as little more than a whisper.

  "Touchy feely stuff?" She asked the question stiffly as if the idea horrified her. "Is he touching you?"

  All the blood rushed out of my face at her question. I honestly felt like I wanted to throw up.

  "Is he?" she asked, still looking mortified. She sat up on the couch with the appearance of someone who was about to storm out of the apartment in search of the creep who had done this to me.

  "It's me," I said. "I'm the one who let him."

  "Let him what?"

  I covered my face with my hands, feeling like I wanted to go hide in a closet for the rest of my life.

  "Did he force you to sleep with him?" Macy asked.

  "No!" I said staring at her like how could you even ask such a thing.

  "Well, you're looking like you're dying over there," she said, defending herself.

  "I'm not dying, I just hate the situation I'm in. I don't want to stay there, and I don't feel like I can quit. You know I can't afford to lose my benefits with Isabel."

  My daughter had a few minor health issues resulting from her premature birth, and part of it was that sometimes her body wasn't quite able to handle regular childhood sicknesses like the flu or strep throat. She was petite for her age, and it was harder for her little body to fight infections. Sometimes, she would begin to dehydrate, so I'd have to take her to the hospital so they could give her fluids and monitor her. It had happened five or six times since she had been born, but the doctors all said it was something she'd likely outgrow. We'd also recently been to the hospital for a broken arm—Isabel still had a cast on her arm from that.

  All this to say, I was in a position where I needed health insurance. Through hard work and dedication, I had moved up at Patterson & Ray, and now earned a good living and health insurance for my daughter and myself. I felt sick at the thought of giving that up.

  Patterson & Ray was one of America's most iconic clothing lines, and I had a full-time management position at their largest New York location. I thought taking that job and moving to the city was the beginning of great things for Isabel and me. And honestly, it seemed like that was going to be the case—right up until J.R. Granger took the job as district manager.

  Chapter 2

  "You don't have to put up with this," Macy said. "They owe you a good referral after all you've done for that company."

  Her demeanor was so impassive that I just shook my head, telling her to simmer down. I massaged my eyebrows, feeling like other than my sister and my daughter, I wanted my whole life to just disappear. Start over. Clean slate. No being a pushover, or a glutton for punishment, or whatever I was.

  "Why do I let guys talk me into doing stuff I don't want to do?" I asked my sister. I felt desperate with regret and embarrassment at the thought of that guy's hands on me. "I'm not even attracted to him, not even in the least, and I just stood there and let him…" I trailed off, feeling utterly disgusted with myself. "He probably thinks I like it," I said.

  "What does he do to you, Tab?"

  "I'm not telling you," I said. "It's gross and it's embarrassing. I don't even like him."

  "What's he do, Tab?"

  "Nothing."

  "Tell me."

  "No."

  "Tell me or I'm gonna assume the worst."

  "What's the worst?" I asked.

  "The R word," she said with wide eyes.

  I managed a fleeting smile at her intensity. "Well, he didn't 'the R word' me," I assured her. "I told you we didn't do that."

  "Did he touch you?" she asked.

  She stared at me intently from her place next to me on the couch, and I nodded almost imperceptibly. It was painful and humiliating, but I nodded. I could feel myself begin to sweat
at the rush of regret.

  "It's been building slowly since he moved here. It's not like he just busted right in and started grabbing me."

  "Does he grab you now?" she asked.

  I shrugged. "I wouldn't call it grabbing," I said. "But he touches me. And I let him. Oh my gosh, I let him."

  I paused and rubbed my face again. I knew I would regret spilling my guts to my sister, but there was no longer anything I could do to hold the truth inside. "It started with a little flirting," I explained. "He'd just brush up against me on his way around a display, or touch my back when he walked by me. But I could tell by the way he looked at me that he was trying to flirt with me. And, he's my boss, you know? I definitely didn't encourage it, but I also didn't tell him to stop, either. I didn't feel like I should be rude. I thought it was harmless and it wouldn't really amount to anything."

  I hesitated long enough that Macy said, "But what?"

  "But fast forward a few months, and his hand is no longer on my back, but now on my inner thigh." My stomach clinched at the memory of it. I hated the memory of it. "I should have stood up for myself right at the start, and now it's gone on so long that I can't end it without being completely awkward. I don't know how he manages to get us in scenarios where that kind of exchange is even possible, but he does," I said. "I don't even like him, and yet I stand there and smile while he… oh my gosh, I don't want to even think about it. I don't know why he ever moved here in the first place. I don't know why he picked me out of all the other girls there, or why I can't just stand up for myself."

  "Stop talking like that, Tab. You aren't to blame. He's using his authority to take advantage of you. It's not you, it's him."

  "I can't believe I'm even telling you any of this," I said. "I should have just kept my mouth shut about it. I'm gonna regret saying anything. I was just so mad that it came to that today. Plus, J.R. let go of Anthony yesterday. That's why I had to stay and close tonight. I hate it when I don't get to see Isabel before she goes to sleep."