So Trashy (Bad Boy Next Door Book 2)
Read So Trashy (Bad Boy Next Door Book 2) Online
Authors: Kelley Harvey
Copyright 2015 by Kelley Harvey
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the
author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
[THIS IS A STANDALONE NOVEL,
it is NOT a SEQUEL to SO. BAD. a Bad Boy Next Door
novel (Book 1)]
For all the women who serve their nations.
You are
all
bad girls…bad-ass girls!
Thank you for your service.
Also, for Karla Pierce, for being my staunch
supporter, friend, and fellow reformed bad girl.
Oh, and for pushing me to write a story
where the girl gets to be bad for a change.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear a junk yard vomited all
over what should be Aunt Delores’s lawn.
I slump against a stack of—of—what the hell
is
this
crap anyway? It’s a pile of parts for something mechanical.
This place has never been fancy, but it was always tidy when
I was a kid. How did it get so bad? Did Uncle Manny plan to open a used tool
store? A small engine repair shop? A fucking flea market?
I swat at the mosquito on my leg. Damn bloodsuckers.
Louisiana summers swelter and suffocate. Sweat gathers on my
brow and behind my knees. It’s eleven AM, and I’m already soaking wet, my tank
top clinging to my back. The rusty wheelbarrow with the half-flat tire was full
an hour ago. Now it overflows, and weeds litter the ground.
I survey my handiwork. I’ve been out here since seven this
morning and have barely made a dent in what used to be the flower bed. We
should throw down some plastic and bring in a load of rocks. Shit, maybe
bulldoze the entire property. Cover it with a big mound of dirt and call it
Rubbish Hill.
Aunt Delores needs to put a For Sale sign at the road and
sell it
as is
. Take what she can get and run—far and fast.
Two SUVs pull up across the field at the neighbors’ place. It’s
followed by an RV bus. Tinted windows conceal the occupants.
My stomach clenches tight. Shiny vehicles, all tricked out
like that, are few and far between here, which means one thing.
Buck’s back.
The last time I saw him was on my eighteenth birthday. He
took me to dinner. Afterward, we snuck past his grandparents, up to his room.
We didn’t need to sneak around, but they weren’t exactly thrilled about the
status of my relationship with Buck.
We made love.
That was the day he ruined me for other men and destroyed my
heart.
I push the memory aside, putting the past back in its
place—buried deep in that hole in my gut where I shove every bad thing that
rears its ugly head. And though
that
memory should be a favorite, it’s
not. It’s one of the hardest to stomach.
Doors open across the way, and four people spill out of the
first SUV, three from the second. Then one comes around the front of the RV. Buck’s
the last to emerge from the side door of the bus, like a dark god, with huge
arms and a broad chest.
I swallow hard as my nipples pucker. Good Lord, I hate my
body for responding to him even after all this time.
The group unloads their baggage from the SUVs and shuffles
things back and forth from the car to the bus. What’s up with the entourage?
Has he gotten so famous that he can’t come home without bringing his staff?
Biting my lip, I turn, but not before his gaze finds mine.
He nods.
I don’t.
I high tail it up the steps and into the house instead.
Heart pounding, I quietly click the door into place and lean my forehead
against it.
My heart is still thumping when heavy footsteps sound on the
wraparound porch. I have no doubt about whose they are. Unfortunately, I’d know
the cadence of his walk anywhere.
Great. First time he sees me in five years—I’m dripping sweat,
covered in dirt, and probably stink. I pull open the door and step outside
before he can knock.
As he saunters my way, I stand straighter, holding my chin a
bit higher. I tuck the hair that’s escaped my loose bun behind my ear and stuff
my hands into the front pockets of my cut-offs to hide their trembling.
I glare at his too-gorgeous face—a strong jaw, covered with
the perfect amount of stubble, and a nose that’s slightly crooked from the
fight he got into with Lonnie Fisher the summer before his junior year. His
raven black hair ruffles in the breeze.
Buck stops five feet from me. His turquoise gaze runs from my
tits to my toes and back.
One black eyebrow quirks. “Loula Mae.”
I cock my head and narrow my eyes. “You know I hate that
name.”
“I’ve always liked it—it suits you.”
His grin might be charming if I didn’t know the damage it precedes.
I clench my teeth.
He’s got to go. Chatting it up with Buck can only lead to
problems, and I’ve got way too much to worry about without inviting that shit
into my life right now. Hell, not only now—
ever
.
I prop my fists at my waist. “So, you looking for a suck or
a fuck?”
For the tiniest moment his eyes widen and flash with
emotion—surprise? Pain, maybe?
Then, with the slightest shake of his head, he grins. “Wow.
I guess the military issued a foul mouth right along with your dog tags. But,
since you’re offering—lips or pussy, don't matter to me.”
I fumble for the door handle behind me. “Let me break it down
for you. You ain't gettin' either from me. So, carry your ass back to your
place or to the whore house over in Slidell. Shit, for all I care, you can trot
out to the barn and visit with Aunt Delores's heifer. But whatever you do,
don't come sniffing around here.”
His grin grows into a full-blown smile, and his eyes crinkle
at the corners, a light coming into them as though he welcomes the challenge.
I slip inside, white-knuckling the handle as I shut the door
in his face. I wilt against the doorframe. It’s best for him not to know how he
affects me. I won’t give him that power again. The last time I did, he used it
to twist me into an emotional pretzel.
“What’s wrong, Baby Girl?” Aunt Delores’s dry voice cracks
behind me.
Closing my eyes, I pull up my shoulders and wipe the disgust
from my face.
“Morning. Sorry if I woke you.”
She shakes her head, waving me off. “No. I was lying there
putting off getting up to pee.”
Aunt Delores pours a cup of coffee while I wash up. She
moves to the window that overlooks the divide between her property and the
Buckners’, taking a long sip from her mug.
“Looks like Selma and Frank have company.”
I shrug, chest still tight. “Buck’s home.”
She tugs at the back of her turban. “Oh, that’s right. Selma
was saying something about that yesterday.”
“Thanks for the warning. Why didn’t you tell me?”
A little glint comes into her eye as her fingers fiddle with
her mother’s pendant. “Well, you’d have scooted right back to California to
avoid him, and I don’t want you to leave. I’ve missed my girl.”
The veins on the backs of her hands, along with her papery,
wrinkled skin, remind me she’s seventy-four years old. My heart constricts as I
think of the way time slips by, quietly stealing the moments we have with those
we love.
After Uncle Manny’s unexpected death last February, the
finite length of time I have left with Aunt Delores hit me like a wrecking
ball. She’s the last of the people who truly love me. When she’s gone, I’ll be
alone.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “I’m not leaving. I came
to help. And that’s what I’m going to do, regardless of whether that jackass is
next door or partying it up in his Hollywood mansion.”
She pats my cheek, a sparkle in her eye. “There you go, Darlin’.
That Buck’s a handful for another day.”
A handful. Or two.
Or five.