Miss
Trailerhood
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. Copyright law.
Editing: Jenn Lockwood
Also by Carina Taylor
A Love Like This
Neighbors Like That
Christmas Like This
Friends Like These
Vacations Like This (Coming Soon)
Fake It
Love on Willow Loop
Miss Trailerhood
World's Worst Boyfriend (Coming Soon)
Only in Colter
The Perfect Plan
Standalone
Mr. H.O.A.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Carina Taylor
Dedication:
SYNOPSIS:
Chapter One | Riley
Chapter Two | Nate
Chapter Three | Riley
Chapter Four | Nate
Chapter Five | Riley
Chapter Six | Nate
Chapter Seven | Nate
Chapter Eight | Riley
Chapter Nine | Nate
Chapter Ten | Nate
Chapter Eleven | Riley
Chapter Twelve | Nate
Chapter Thirteen | Riley
Chapter Fourteen | Nate
Chapter Fifteen | Nate
Chapter Sixteen | Riley
Chapter Seventeen | Nate
Chapter Eighteen | Riley
Chapter Nineteen | Nate
Chapter Twenty | Riley
Chapter Twenty-One | Riley
Chapter Twenty-Two | Riley
Chapter Twenty-Three | Riley
Chapter Twenty-Four | Nate
Chapter Twenty-Five | Riley
Epilogue | Nate
Acknowledgements:
Further Reading: Neighbors Like That
Also By Carina Taylor
Dedication:
Emily, you know this one’s for you. Thanks for being the forever kind of friend.
(And for talking me out of that alpaca farm.)
SYNOPSIS:
She disappeared from our lives without a word. I never expected to run into her at a Quik Mart in between jobs. What’s a guy to do when he finds his first crush? Follow her home, of course, and remind her of all the things she’s missing.
I didn’t know that holding onto Riley would involve living in a trailer park. Or keeping it a secret from my sister—her best friend.
Riley is completely at home with lawn-mower racing, beer-guzzling exhibitionists. She doesn’t think I can handle it.
Well, I’m going to show Miss Trailerhood that I’m here to stay—no matter what trailer-park mayhem she puts me through.
Love is patient, love is kind, love means buying a single wide.
Chapter One
Riley
Should I go nude?
Or maybe a little more tan?
Deciding which way you looked best would be difficult for anyone, but it was especially difficult when your hair was wrapped in a towel. It automatically lowered your self-confidence—and made you wonder if you shared the genetics of a troll.
Having eye cream slathered so thick I could see it under my eyes didn’t help either. Oh well. I guess I’d go nude. It made a statement.
With a heavy sigh, I snatched the nail polish off the shelf and dropped it into my basket.
It would scare most people to go to the grocery store looking like I did. But that was the beauty of living in Oregon. When you went to the store, you saw people in all states of dress—or undress. Some people wore their pajamas. About eighty percent of the population appeared in yoga pants. And every once in a while, you could spot a person wearing hardly anything. But the only time I went nude was when I painted my nails that color.
I tossed some cotton balls into my basket before I stopped by the baby section to grab wipes. They made the best makeup removers.
I had to hurry because I only had two hours before I went live and only three hours before my sister got home from her friend’s. It was the first week of summer break, and I was already frantically trying to think of fun summer activities for Wren and me.
Luckily, tonight was cookie night.
I turned down the baking aisle of the convenience store.
Convenience was right. It was practically right next door to my house. And this convenience store had the decency to stock regular food items. Tonight was chocolate-chip-cookie night, and if Wren came home to find that we were out of chocolate chips, I would be in big trouble.
I paused in front of a mirror that was part of the sunglasses display. The avocado smeared beneath my makeup-less eyes usually helped remove the puffiness, but I wasn’t sure it would work today. It needed to. I had to take photos tonight.
Setting the basket on the front counter, the woman standing there helped me empty it. After laying the chocolate chips and nude nail polish on the counter, I pulled my card out of my phone case and swiped it.
“Big night planned?” Marni, the woman who managed the convenience store, asked.
“We’re making cookies tonight if you want to stop by.”
Marni tugged at the large hoops in her ears. “Well, Dean and I have tickets to the mud show tonight, but thanks for the offer.”
I nodded and tucked my card back into my phone case. Marni and I lived only a street apart.
The first time I’d met her, she told me that her boyfriend, Dean, was going to propose any day now. That was two years ago, and he was still coming up with excuses. “You taking pictures tonight?” she asked.
“Yes, Wren is hanging out with friends today, so I figured I’d get some evening shots with Tony.”
“He’s getting better. That YouTube video he watched really helped.”
“I agree.” Tony was another neighbor who was dabbling in photography. He was decent enough and wanted to add to his portfolio, so he helped me in trade for chocolate chip cookies and girlfriend advice.
Although his pictures weren’t bad, I doubted he’d ever make it as a true professional. He’d do fine snapping pictures of T-ball practice and backyard weddings, but he wouldn’t be featured in any magazines—not in this lifetime.
Marni passed me the paper sack. “You want me to get you a ticket to mudding next week? Dean’s got a friend that works for the owner’s son.”
Sounded like she had those tickets locked in tight. “Thanks, Marni. If it’s no trouble, I know Wren would love that.”
Unfortunately, Wren was now at the age where she liked boys. I couldn’t convince her they still had germs and she needed her cootie shot every time she accidentally touched one.
Right now, she had a crush on Mason Higgins—someone in the making of a true redneck. Nice enough kid, just not too bright. He liked mudding, though, so now Wren liked mudding, even though she hadn’t ever been, which was why I wanted to remedy that. I hoped she would go to a mudding event and decide that it wasn’t for her, and then she’d decide that Mason wasn’t for her either.
“What’s with the green stuff?” Marni pointed to the goop on my face.
“I’m doing a live makeup tutorial while the cookies are baking. This takes away the puffiness from my eyes.”
Marni shrugged. “Just remember to take the towel off your head too.”
Patting my makeshift turban
, I smiled. “I didn’t want my hair to dry on the walk over here. I need to do a blowout.”
“You know I have that friend who would give you a discount at the hair salon if you tell her my name. She works wonders with my hair.” She gestured to her thick, heavy-handed bangs that somehow fit Marni well but would look horrendous on anyone else.
“Thanks for that.”
I gathered up my belongings and turned to walk out the door. Only, my mind must have been on other things, because I bumped into someone—with my face. Where was the rest of my body when I needed it? That would teach me to slouch.
“Oh, excuse me!” I apologized. I fumbled with the bag but managed to hold onto it. Raising my head, I stared at a chest. My face had left a little avocado imprint on the man’s white T-shirt. Not wanting to make things more awkward, I hurried around the man, ready to dash for the door.
“Riley!” a familiar voice called to me. I stopped. The voice was deeper than I remembered. More gravelly. But I’d know it anywhere. Slowly turning around, goosebumps on my arms, I stared at the man I’d smashed my face against.
A blast from the past stood in front of me, a water bottle in his hand. Brown, tussled hair. Bright-green eyes that saw too much.
He’d always seen. He always knew.
I let out a squeak and ran out the door. My flip-flops slapped against the bottom of my feet as I tried to keep my armful of groceries from falling. The cars zooming down the road next to me had me glancing frantically over my shoulder as if he were driving one of them.
When I made it to the gated entrance to my neighborhood, I slowed my sprint to a light jog.
I was home.
I was safe.
My secret was safe.
The past would have to stay in the past. There was nothing else I could do about it. No matter how much I wanted to wrap my arms around the past and hug him—er, it—I couldn’t, because the past was over.
I could only look to the future—mine and Wren’s.
The good-looking man who had grown into his large ears and broad shoulders didn’t have a place in the Wren-and-Riley future.
Our trailer wasn’t big enough.
I hurried past Tony, who was busy washing his Mustang in front of his green single-wide. I nodded to Eldon, who stood in front of his outdoor shed, a screwdriver in each hand.
My heart still raced as I popped the handle on my trailer and opened the door. Home sweet home. That was right. I lived in a trailer park.
And it wasn’t just any trailer park. It was the one and only, coveted, desirable, Burnside Waterfront Trailer Park.
In other words, it was a trailer park like any other trailer park across America.
Single-wides, Airstreams, travel trailers, RVs. We had it all. We even laid claim to the fact that we had two double-wides in our park.
I rested my bag of groceries against my hip before I climbed the narrow, steep steps inside. I turned around and scanned the street—no sign of him. He wouldn’t follow me here. There was nothing to worry about.
I slammed the door then emptied my groceries onto the tiny counter space.
After I laid all the delicious ingredients for chocolate chip cookies out, I glanced down and realized my big toe was bleeding.
Darn it. I wanted to do a nail tutorial soon. I couldn’t do that if I had hamburger toes.
Opening the pantry—really it was a cupboard with two shelves—I pulled the first aid kit from the back. There weren’t any Band-Aids to be found, only a thick square piece of gauze and some tape.
My toe was still dripping blood, but it definitely wasn’t gauze-worthy. I’d just have to wash it off in the shower. I pulled the towel from my head and used it to clean off the avocado mask.
The trailer rocked as someone climbed the steps. I waited for Wren to open the door, but instead of the door opening, there was a knock. Probably Elise and Sam from next door. Both were retired and considered the news bearers of the trailer park. Good news, bad news. They liked to share it all. They popped over to chat all the time.
I set down the first aid kit and limped to the door. Why did toe injuries cause your entire leg to freeze up?
I would never know, because when I opened the door, my toe was the least of my worries.
Nate Mercier stood there. Grown-up, handsome as sin, and scowling angrily.
Chapter Two
Nate
It was Riley.
When she bumped into me at the store, I knew her immediately. I would never forget her face. It didn’t matter that some strange, green paste covered her face—or that she had smeared it on my shirt. I still recognized her.
Maybe it was the towel on her head.
She’d spent countless nights having sleepovers with my sister, Nola, during middle school and high school. I would have recognized that turban anywhere. Nola and Riley had been inseparable. At one point, they’d gone on a makeover kick. They’d planned ‘spa nights’ at my parents’ house—whatever that had meant. To me, it had meant a chance to torment Nola and Riley.
When Riley ran out of the store, I set the water bottle down on the counter and hurried after her. She had a good head start—she’d always been athletic, so even the flip-flops weren’t much of a hindrance for her.
The parking lot was empty by the time I got outside, but then I spotted her running down the sidewalk and disappearing onto a side street toward what looked like a trailer park. I sprinted after her. She had probably panicked since it had been so long since I’d seen her.
And now she was running through a sketchy trailer park just to get away from me.
She was determined. I knew that for a fact. But so was I. I wanted to know where she’d been for the past two years.
I’d expected to hear from her someday—not accidentally bump into her at a Quik Mart after I’d finished a job.
When I reached the entrance to the trailer park, I saw a strange sight. Riley was waving and greeting the people who were outside their homes—a man working on his lawn mower, another man with a camera pointed at a Corvette parked in front of a single-wide, a few kids riding bikes down the street.
It was almost like she knew them.
Weird.
I stood back and watched, unsure of what I was seeing.
Then, something even stranger happened. She reached the first ninety-degree corner of the trailer park and walked determinedly up a short—very short—driveway toward a trailer.
Riley climbed a narrow set of steps and walked inside an Airstream trailer. She acted as if she owned the place.
Who could she know in a trailer park like this? I knew her mom was firmly out of the picture. I knew it couldn’t be Riley who lived here. She’d always sworn that she would never live in a trailer park again.
She didn’t want to speak to me. She’d made that clear when she ran away screaming a few minutes before.
Was this the part where I left and admitted defeat? Or would I go knock on that door and demand answers?
There really was no debate in my mind. I wasn’t exactly the person to let things be. I needed answers.
Why had Riley disappeared without a word? Not even a note. She hadn’t even bothered with a text to my sister.
Nothing like, Hey, I know we’ve been best friends for over ten years and roommates throughout college, but I figured I’d try my hand at the disappearance act. Ciao!
She’d left without a trace. Nola and I had searched high and low for her. I glanced around the trailer park. Apparently, we hadn’t searched low enough.
I stalked forward with determination.
I tried to ignore the hair standing up on the back of my neck. I hated that feeling. It could mean anything. A threat. A stalker. A sense of doom. Static electricity because I forgot fabric softener when I did my laundry...the options were endless.
But there was one thing I knew: Riley was going to have to face me.
I climbed the narrow steps and pounded on the trailer door with an open palm.
A couple seconds later, I heard someone shuffling around inside. I climbed down to the bottom stair in case the door hit me when it swung open.
When it finally opened, I still wasn’t ready. Riley stood on the other side of the door, staring at me with wet hair hanging against her cheeks and an open-mouthed gasp.
She’d kicked off her flip-flops and held a bandage in her hand. She still looked as surprised as she had in the convenience store. The green goo was gone, as well as the towel.
“Is that really you?” I asked to remind myself that this wasn’t a dream. I knew it was her. It was surreal to see her in person after all this time.
Over two years.
We had all expected the worst had happened to her. Whatever the worst may have been. The worst was different for each person and especially different for those who’d had to live through the worst.
But as Nola and I had discussed repeatedly, the only thing that would have driven Riley away would have fallen into the category of the worst.
Facing her now, I couldn’t think of any questions to ask. I wish I could’ve been eloquent and eased into the conversation with natural charm. Something that would show her how much I missed her, yet not make me look like a pathetic young boy who’d had the biggest crush on her.
But all thoughts of tact disappeared. I wanted to know where she’d been, why she hid, why she’d stayed so close to Riverly where we’d grown up.
“Where have you been?” I demanded. She immediately tried to slam the door. I caught it with my left hand and wrenched it open; it wasn’t difficult to do because it was a trailer, and the door was light.
As was Riley.
She was a scrappy little soul. I knew that from all the times she'd tackled me to the ground during high school. But the years had been good to me. I’d finally filled out and put on some pounds of muscle. It took a lot of sandwiches, chocolate milk, and protein shakes. I was no bodybuilder, but I finally looked like I might survive a light breeze.
I held the door wide open and clenched my jaw as I waited for her to answer. The muscles on my forearm pulsed as I pulled myself up the steps to her eye level. She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and her feet were bloody and bare.
Miss Trailerhood Page 1