Wicked Love (Wicked White Series Book 3)

by Michelle A. Valentine

  Dad hasn’t talked about his family in such a fond way in a long time, so it’s nice to hear this story about him and his father. I want him to keep going, so I ask, “Is that what motivated you to go to college and move to the city?”

  He puts the truck in drive and heads down the driveway. “It is. I always idolized the people I saw on television and all the nice things they had. I figured out early that if I wanted to have the kind of life I grew up dreaming about that I would have to be a successful businessman, so that’s what I worked for.”

  This completely explains why Mom fell for Dad when they were in college. They were both money driven, and she could see that Dad had the determination to make something of himself. Mom knew that successful men typically marry intelligent, beautiful women, so she made it a point to get a degree in business, even though she never really planned on using it, or at least that’s the way she put it to me when I was trying to decide on my own college major during my senior year of high school.

  I turn my head and stare out the window. It’s hard for me to think about my mother because every time I do, I just get angry.

  These roads feel like they take forever, and there are so many curves. Between Granny’s beat-up old truck and the fact Dad thinks we’re in the backwoods Indy 500, my stomach turns with a little carsickness. I feel like sticking my head out the window like a dog to lap up some fresh air to help ease my turning stomach. Instead, I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, while trying to get my mind off my mother.

  Relief floods me when we slow down and drive onto the straight city streets. I sit up to inspect my new town. There’s nothing but a few fast-food joints and a local Walmart. Not only does there not seem to be anything to do in this town, but it appears that the job outlook around here isn’t very good either, considering there are not a lot of businesses.

  I suddenly feel the urge to take back every mean thing I ever said about Columbus. Compared to Wellston, Columbus is a huge city with lots to do, even if most of the people I know there right now are complete assholes. I miss being there already.

  Dad turns sharply into what appears to be the local lumber store parking lot. The building is old and dilapidated. If we were back home this place would have plywood nailed tightly over the windows to keep the crackheads out. However, here it’s an open business, proudly serving all the people of Wellston, according to the sign.

  “Wow. A little rough, isn’t it?” I ask.

  “Come on, Ave, it’ll be fine. Give this place a chance. The people here may not have much, but they’re friendly.” Dad smiles.

  I sigh as I push open the heavy truck door and follow Dad. I can’t bring myself to be argumentative with him. When he worked all the time, he barely knew I was alive. It was easy then to snap at him with bitchy comments, because I truly thought he was a jerk. Now I know different. He stressed a lot over his job and now that that’s no longer in the way, we’ve really had the chance to reconnect and mend things between us.

  I drag my feet aimlessly behind Dad through the lumber store. I’m not familiar with any of the things they sell, so none of it holds my interest, plus it smells weird in here. It has an aroma of musty wood and oil. My nose wrinkles up at every whiff I get.

  I nearly jump for joy when he says it’s time to go check out because I’m completely out of my element in here. I’ve never been in a lumber store before, but it’s not high on my list of places to visit again anytime soon.

  We walk outside away from the wretched stench of the store. I’m glad for a clean gulp of air. The more I get of this clear country air, the more I crave it. Normally I’m the biggest inside person you’d ever meet, but here it’s different. I like sitting outside every chance I get. There’s a peacefulness in being surrounded by nothing but country.

  “Wait here,” Dad says while thrusting the lumber receipt into my hands. “I’ll go pull the truck up to the loading area.”

  Standing there like an idiot, I watch him walk away. I hate being in public alone. It makes me feel like a total loser with no friends. I slide on my oversize Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses, and gaze at my nails to appear preoccupied. People clamor in and out of the store. This place appears to be the central hub for all things construction.

  “You waiting to get loaded?” a male voice asks.

  “What?” I question. The word loaded to me only means two things: being rich, which I’m definitely not anymore, or getting high. No way do I need drugs. My life is screwed up enough without adding that to the mix.

  I turn to confront my would-be dope dealer and my mouth drops open the moment my eyes land on the guy who asked the question. “Tyler?”

  His eyes widen as soon as I mention his name. “Avery? I barely recognize you with those big glasses. It’s great to see you.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, still amazed to see a familiar face.

  My eyes trail up and down his body unabashedly because I know he won’t be able to tell that I’m checking out that sexy tattooed body of his while I have these shades on. I’m usually not attracted to the country-boy type, but Tyler looks absolutely tasty in his faded blue jeans and his tight T-shirt and baseball cap.

  He smiles and it lights up his entire face, even causing his blue eyes to twinkle a bit. “I work here.”

  “Here? I thought you lived in Columbus?” I ask, confused by why he works two hours away from where I met him.

  “No. I’ve lived here my whole life. I only stay in Columbus on the weekend. My band’s lead singer, Jimmy, has a place there. It’s more convenient to do that since we play most of our gigs on the weekends. It’s too far for me to travel back and forth, especially since most of our gigs don’t end until late.”

  I nod. “That makes sense. I just didn’t expect to ever see you again.”

  His top teeth graze over his lower lip. “Likewise. But I’m glad you’re here.”

  We stand there in silence, and I know he probably wants to mention the last time he saw me—the night I ran out of the frat house crying—but he doesn’t ask and I don’t bring it up. That was one of the most embarrassing nights of my life and I don’t look forward to rehashing the details of it anytime soon.

  Finally, after some awkward silence, he clears his throat. “Can I see your receipt?”

  “Oh, sorry.” I hand him the small piece of paper.

  He takes the receipt as his mouth quirks into a little grin. “So I take it you know someone down here since you’re buying all this lumber.”

  “Yeah, my grandmother doesn’t live too far from here, and my dad and I are staying with her for a while.”

  His eyes flick to mine, and I’m sure he’s a bit confused as to why I’m living down here after he’s seen my old house, but I don’t give him any further details, so he just simply says, “I bet I know your grandmother, seeing as how this is a pretty small town.”

  “Her name is Geneva Jenson.”

  Tyler’s gaze shifts upward like he’s going through some file in his brain, searching for Granny’s name, and then whips his eyes back to me. “She’s out on Dark Hollow Road, right?”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah. That’s her.”

  He grins. “There aren’t many people around here that I don’t know.”

  I laugh a little. “Obviously.”

  Tyler opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it. He’s looking at me like there’s more he wants to say but is holding back. After a long moment, he jumps back into business mode. “Pull your vehicle to the side over there and I’ll get your supplies loaded up.”

  “Okay. I’ll let my dad know when he brings the truck around.”

  Tyler nods and then hurries off into the building.

  Dad pulls the truck up and I jump into the passenger seat so I can show him where he needs to park. I watch closely in the side mirror as Dad helps Tyler load my room supplies in the bed of the rusty pickup. Tyler’s muscles flex beneath the tattooed skin on his forearms as he stacks the wood we just bought c
arefully into the bed of the truck.

  I can hear their voices inside the truck, but I can’t make out exactly what they are saying because of the muffled sound. Dad is chatty though and he’s laughing. He talks to Tyler nonstop the whole time they work. Tyler nods and smiles politely at him every now and then, but also seems to be answering a lot of questions. It’s probably a job requirement to be friendly here.

  “Okay, see you tomorrow,” Dad tells Tyler as he opens the driver’s side door.

  Tomorrow? I examine Dad thoroughly through my sunglasses for a clue as to what he means, but I get nothing. Sometimes Dad can be very hard to read.

  “Why can’t we get whatever it is we need while we’re here? Why do we have to come back tomorrow?”

  “We’re not coming back here. Tyler’s going to help me with your room,” he answers.

  My gaze shifts over to Tyler, who is standing just outside my door filling out some paperwork. He catches me staring at him and a huge grin spreads across his face as he waves good-bye to me as Dad pulls the truck away.

  Looks like I’ll be seeing a lot more of Tyler around this town.

  TYLER

  Damn. It’s hot as hell out here. I wipe beads of sweat from my face. This job sucks so much. I can’t complain to anyone about it, though. People tell me I’m lucky to have a job in this shit town in the first place. Half of the people in Wellston live on welfare, so to most, I’m doing pretty well for myself.

  The problem with this job is that it’s so monotonous. I’ve got too much time to think, and that leads me into trouble. So many brilliant plans trickle from my brain during my shifts at Jones’s Lumber. This is where I finally decided I’m ditching this town for somewhere better the day I get enough money saved up to rent an apartment in the city. There’s no life for me here. This town has no jobs, no place to get my music career off the ground, and the girl situation . . . let’s just say that no one turns my head here. Yep, this place sucks for a young, single guy like me.

  “Yo, Tyler!” Blake yells over the walkie-talkie. “Customer needs loading out front.”

  That’s my cue to hustle my ass up front so I can sweat my balls off. Loading customer vehicles is grueling. The customers usually just stand there, watching me break my back as I load their shit in their cars or trucks. Some people are so lazy they won’t even put their own tailgate down to help me out.

  I stride out of the loading dock, and nearly pass out. My God, she’s gorgeous. She is by far the hottest girl I’ve ever seen in this town. This girl’s body is smokin’. She’s rocking a pair of Daisy Duke shorts, a navy-blue tank top, and some oversize sunglasses. I think I even see a hint of a black bra. Damn, she’s sexy. She looks like a movie star with her sexy brunette hair and sense of style. I can’t tear my eyes away from her. I would give anything to have a girl like that.

  “Tyler, did you copy that?” Blake squawks again on the radio.

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” I answer him back.

  “You need any help?” The walkie-talkie buzzes.

  “No, no, I got this one.”

  No way do I want Blake out here with her. If I’m ever going to have a shot with this girl, he can’t be around. Blake is our town’s unofficial badass and my best friend. He rides a motorcycle and owns a Mustang, and all the girls think he’s “so cute.” No. I don’t need him here to mess up my game.

  After a couple more seconds of just watching her, I decide I need to say something, so I don’t look like a total perv. I notice she has a receipt in her hand and my mind jerks back to the reason I’m out here. I almost forgot she’s the customer I came to see.

  “You waiting to get loaded?” I ask.

  It’s then that it strikes me that she looks just like the girl I’ve been dreaming about for the past couple of weeks.

  “What?” She’s clearly startled, and then the expression on her face morphs into surprise. “Tyler?”

  My heart does a couple thumps as I realize that this is my real-life dream girl standing in front of me again. There’re so many things I want to say to her, but I hold myself back and allow her to lead the conversation. Things don’t go exactly as I would like, and there’s a bit of weird awkwardness between us. I can tell that she’s embarrassed about the way I saw her last time, but I want her to know that she can trust me, so I don’t push the issue.

  I stand there grinning like an idiot. Usually, I can think of a thousand witty things to say, but standing in front of her, I’ve got nothing. My brain is a big glob of Jell-O inside my skull. I’ll admit, I’m intimidated a bit by her hotness.

  Damn it. Still nothing.

  So I do the only thing that makes sense, and turn the conversation back to the reason we’re both standing out here awkwardly by asking for her receipt.

  After I instruct her on where to have the vehicle loaded, I turn back toward the building, completely embarrassed. I hurry inside to get her order together, all the while scolding myself for not being a little more suave.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  Man, I’m such an idiot. Why can’t I talk around her? That was probably my one and only shot, and I royally screwed it up.

  When I come back outside with the forklift that’s stacked with their order, her father is standing at the rear of the truck with the tailgate already down. Her dad’s help with the work surprises me. He’s a really nice dude. He rambles on about how he grew up in this town, and how he and his daughter are here to stay for a while. In addition, he tells me that’s why they’re at Jones’s Lumber. To get supplies to build Avery a room onto the house. Avery. I love the way her name feels on my lips.

  “So, do you think you could help me out?” Avery’s dad asks. “I can’t pay you much, but I could really use the help.”

  “Oh, yeah. No problem.” I don’t even bother telling him that I would be willing to work for free because it will give me ample access to Avery—that would just make me sound like too much of a creeper.

  “Great, I plan on starting it tomorrow. Will that work for you?” he asks.

  “Sounds good,” I answer. Definitely sounds like a plan.

  He starts walking toward the front of the truck where Avery is waiting. “Okay, see you tomorrow,” her dad calls.

  Avery’s lips draw in a tight line. She’s confused about the tomorrow thing, probably.

  She shoots me a look, and I waggle my eyebrows up and down, while my grin widens. I usually don’t have to work this hard to get girls. This one is going to take a lot of effort, but I’m willing to put in the work.

  AVERY

  Day one of the room addition extravaganza kicks off rather slowly. Every time I get a minute break from Granny’s slave labor, I check on their progress. I think Dad and Tyler spent the first half of the day figuring out how the laser and tape measure work because it took them nearly all morning to simply use a can of orange spray paint to mark lines on the ground. My suspicions are now confirmed, my room’s going to be lopsided. I’ll probably be in there sleeping one night and get crushed to death because the roof decides to collapse on me. So I wouldn’t be surprised if “GIRL KILLED BY HOUSE” is in the paper someday. Maybe I don’t want the new room after all.

  Finally, with all my chores done, I earn a little free time. It’s a rather warm day for May, and an itch for a little vitamin D hits me. After I change into a pair of shorts and a tank top, I plop down on a rickety plastic lounge chair. If I can’t afford to pay for my tan anymore, I’ll get it the old-fashioned way. I lay back and close my eyes, and wish I’d charged my iPod last night. The sun burns down on my skin after a couple minutes. It feels soothing. I get to pretend for a little while that things are exactly as they were. We still live in Columbus, and I’m at the pool in my backyard.

  I enjoy the dream until a shadow blocks out my sun.

  “That’ll cause cancer, you know,” Tyler says.

  The sound of Tyler’s deep voice causes me to nearly jump out of my chair. My eyes snap open to find Tyler standing there with
a tool pouch around his waist. He’s wearing an old rock band T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, allowing a full display of those delicious arms of his. He unbuckles the tools from around his waist and my eyes dart to his crotch for a moment. My face instantly flushes to a deep red when I realize he’s caught me checking out his package.

  I need to say something—anything to take my mind off the fact that I’ve just really embarrassed myself.

  “I know the UV rays are bad for you, but I just want to look good,” I finally answer. “And tan fat looks better than pasty white fat.” Or so I read in one of my weekly girl-how-to magazines.

  He laughs. “Well, if that’s the case, you don’t have a thing to worry about. Your body looks perfect to me.”

  I try to hide my smile so he doesn’t think flattery will get him anywhere, but I can’t hide it long. I bite my lower lip to keep from full-on grinning like an idiot.

  Tyler just stands there staring as if he’s studying me, and after a moment he shakes his head as if waking himself up out of a daze. “Sorry,” he says, “I nearly forgot what I came over here for. Your Dad needs some more supplies. He didn’t have any cash, so he wanted you to come with me to sign the debit card receipt.”

  The thought of being alone with Tyler again causes goose bumps to erupt all over my skin and I pray he doesn’t notice.

  “All right, but I have got to go put on some clothes first,” I say.

  “You don’t have to. I mean . . . um . . . I think you look fine,” he replies, looking a little red in the face.

  “Fine?” I mock, raising an eyebrow after the compliment he just gave me moments ago.

  I like making him squirm a little. That’s the price he has to pay for ogling my boobs. I know he’s checking me out. He is part of the male species, after all, and with a set like mine, they’re hard for any guy to ignore.