Wicked Love (Wicked White Series Book 3) (9 page)

AVERY

Y
awning, I close my eyes as I raise my arms over my head in an attempt to wake myself up. Sleeping on this couch sucks. Dad needs to hurry up and finish my room so I can sleep on a bed again. Sliding off the couch and stretching my arms over my head helps wake me up.

Ugh. My thighs are touching. I’ve gained about five pounds since I’ve been here because I haven’t been on my strict diet and exercise plan. I really need to run.

So I decided to just get over my fear of running alone on these back roads, and force myself to get back into my regular routine. After dressing in my workout clothes, and throwing my hair into a messy ponytail, I skate out the front door.

A smile tickles my cheeks, and I try to fight it back, but I can’t hide it. Tyler’s outside my house, sitting on the tailgate of his truck.

He remembered.

I thought he was just feeding me a line yesterday, but now I realize he was very serious when he agreed to be my running partner.

Tyler’s long legs are bare thanks to the shorts he’s wearing, and I’m able to see the defined calves he’s been hiding under those jeans. Like his arms, his legs bear multiple tattoos and it makes me wonder what other parts of his body are covered with ink.

He hops off the truck and joins me as I begin to stretch. I can’t stop smiling like an idiot. He’s putting in a lot of effort and I’m really impressed.

“Hey.” He grins. “How many miles are we doing again?”

“Not sure yet. Just try and keep up, farm boy,” I tease as I take off running down the driveway.

We run in sync, our feet pounding the pavement along the overgrown country road in perfect time. The morning sun beams down on my exposed skin, energizing me, encouraging me to push my body harder.

Digging my toes into the asphalt, picking up speed, I move a couple strides ahead of Tyler. Running is the one thing I’m good at.

With a grunt, he matches my pace. I laugh as I shoot him a sideways glace and he wags his eyebrows. I love this playful side of him. He makes it so easy to just be with him.

“Is that all you got?” he taunts and takes off ahead of me.

I grit my teeth. No way I’ll allow him to beat me. It takes me about two seconds to catch him and get back in his rhythm.

We finish our run, ending back at Granny’s—well, technically it’s my place too—both of us sweating profusely. It was the most exhilarating run I’d had in a while, and I’m pretty sure the intense delight I’m feeling has more to do with the guy than the run itself. No man has ever invested so much time in getting to know me before, and I have to say, I like it.

I watch as Tyler hops up on his tailgate, drags a cooler to the end, and pops open the lid. After handing me a bottle of water, he gestures toward the swing that hangs from the two tallest walnut trees in the front yard.

We sit side by side, sipping ice-cold water in silence.

Silence
. What a contrast to the chatty coverstation about our secret pact last night. I really don’t know what to say, but I hope he isn’t having second thoughts about the whole thing.

I can’t stand the quiet. It was what my old house was filled with back in Columbus after Mom left us. It gives me too much time to ponder, so I have to end it.

“So . . . what are your plans for the rest of the day?” I ask.

“Well, first I have to work on your room with your dad, and then after that I wondered if you wanted to go out with me again? There’s a party tonight,” he replies.

“Party?” Finally something I’m used to. “I’m
so
game for a party.”

Tyler grins. “Great. I can show you off. You’ll be my arm candy.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, but only because you’re my pretend boyfriend.”

Tyler heads home for a shower after our run, and then returns a couple hours later dressed in blue jeans and another old rock band T-shirt.

I spend the rest of the morning watching Dad and Tyler work on my room. I have no clue what they’re doing but I appreciate the view as I watch Tyler use a shovel to dig a couple trenches for the room’s foundation. A sheen of sweat covers his skin as his muscles twist beneath taut skin. Just as I’m about to file Tyler’s sexy forearms away in my memory vault, I hear the screen door snap back on its hinges.

“Avery?” Granny calls. “You need to get out there and get them horse stalls mucked.”

I could pretend to ignore her, but I’m sure she’d just keep hollering, so I might as well get up and do as she asks. The quicker I get it done, the sooner I can come back here and ogle Tyler some more.

I grunt as I rise to my feet. “Dad, you do realize that cleaning horse crap is one of the most disgusting things on the planet, right?”

“I know it’s gross, but Granny is old, and you’d really be helping her out if you could get it done,” Dad says.

“You’re right,” I agree. “The thing is, Dad, I don’t know anything about horses or how to take care of them. All I know about cleaning stalls is what I’ve seen on TV.”

“Avery—”

“I’ll help her, Mr. Jenson,” Tyler interrupts. “That is if you don’t mind that we take a break here for a bit.”

Dad nods. “Go ahead. I’ll finish cutting these last two-by-fours and then break for lunch.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” he tells my dad before turning toward me. “Lead the way.”

We don’t have to walk far. The two-story barn is only about four car lengths away from the house. The red paint that once covered the boards has peeled away over time, leaving the old wooden boards exposed. Dad says that when Grandpa bought this house, the barn was already in place and that it was customary to keep the barn fairly close because most families lived on the milk and eggs they farmed every day. It made it easier back in the day.

I lead Tyler to the front door and push it open. The barn smells just as bad as I expected and it takes everything in me to not plug my nose shut. There are six stalls, but only three of them have horses in them. I stare at the magnificant animals who stand so tall and regal as we walk past them.

Tyler pats the side of one of the stalls. “This old place is in pretty good shape. It’s been well kept.”

“This was my grandpa’s man cave. Dad says he spent a lot of time in here fixing things and making sure the horses were well taken care of.”

“It shows. This place has got to be at least one hundred years old,” Tyler says. “You ready to get started?”

I shurg. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Tyler picks up a pitchfork and then hands it to me. “The first thing we have to do is move the horses out to pasture while we clean their stalls.” He reaches in and pats the horse gently on the nose. “You have to show them that they can trust you. It’s no different than any other relationship. Trust is key.”

I like hearing this explanation from him, and it makes me think that he believes this in every facet of his life. I want to trust Tyler and so far I do. He’s never done anything to make me think that he doesn’t deserve my faith in him.

Tyler lifts the latch on the stall and leads the horse out of the barn like he’s done it a million times before.

When he returns, he takes the pitchfork from me and says, “Now it’s your turn.”

“Me?” I ask hesitantly. “I don’t know if I can.”

Tyler smiles and takes my hand. “Don’t be afraid. They won’t hurt you, and I’ll be right by your side.”

His words are comforting and I suddenly feel a surge of bravery shoot through me, knowing that he’ll be there to make sure things go right.

I lean the pitchfork against the wall and then make my way toward a stall that has a tall, tan horse with a dark brown mane. I uncurl my fingers and stretch my hand toward the horse and it neighs, causing me to jerk my hand back.

“It’s okay,” Tyler encourages. “Try again.”

I swallow hard and then attempt again to touch the animal. This time it allows me to pat the smooth spot just above its nose.

A smile creeps over my face. “It’s so soft. I haven’t been in here since I was a little girl.”

Tyler watches me openly as I overcome my fears. “Now you know there’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of.”

“Thank you for this—for helping me.”

Tyler reaches up and pushes back a loose strand of my dark hair away from my face. “Anytime.”

I bite my lip, loving the feel of his touch, and as I’m about to lean in and kiss him, Tyler clears his throat. “Let’s knock these stalls out so we can break for lunch.”

“Okay.”

After we lead the other two horses out of the barn, Tyler shows me the best way to hold the pitchfork and scoop the straw and poop out of the barn. When he’s statisifed that I can manage on my own, he picks up another pitchfork so we can finish in half the time.

Much to my surprise, Tyler is taking this work seriously. I find myself alone, in a stall, stabbing into a massive pile of straw and dung. A horse barn in warm weather is the worst thing I’ve ever smelled in my entire life, but I know it needs to be done. These animals deserve a clean place to stay.

“This is a lot harder than I thought. I’m only halfway finished and my arms are already burning,” I admit.

Tyler’s deep laugh rumbles in the next stall. “I won’t say it’s the most glamorous job in the world, but I’m sure there are worse ones. Like cleaning hog pens.”

“I’ll take your word on that one, because if it smells more awful than this, I don’t want any part of it.”

“This is pretty bad, though, but the faster we work, the sooner we can get out of here,” he says.

We work quickly, trying to get eveything done, and just as the barn starts to smell a little better, my mind begins to drift to how things were for me just a few months ago. I wonder what my friends back home are doing tonight. My life here is a startling contrast to what it once was. It makes me curious as to what tonight is going to be like.

“This party tonight . . .” I trail off as I wonder out loud.

“Yeah?” he responds.

“What kind of party is it
exactly
?”

“I dunno, it’s just a party. Are you asking me if we have a theme or something? Do we really need that to get together and drink beer?”

I laugh and then decide to tease him a little. “No. I wouldn’t expect that much creativity from you country bumpkins.”

“Hey now . . .” He chuckles.

“I’m just joking. But seriously, what should I wear to this unfestive drinking event?”

“Wear whatever you want. It’s not like there’s a dress code or anything.”

“Well, can you at least tell me what the girls around here typically wear to a party? I don’t want to be dressed wrong and stick out.”

He walks into my stall and leans his shoulder against the rough wood wall and smiles, nearly stilling my breath. “Avery, I think you’ll stand out no matter what you wear.”

I give him my sexiest grin. He’s flirting with me and this is an area I’m well schooled in. I want to keep this going. “Are you saying I’m noticeable?”

He takes a step toward me, pulls the pitchfork from my hands, and props it against the wall. His strong arms wrap around me, effectively crushing me against him. The heat from his body pulsates off of him, activating the delicious smell of his woodsy cologne. His blue eyes are fixed on me intently, only leaving my gaze for a second to stare at my lips, which causes me to lick them—inviting him to kiss me.

“You’re
very
noticeable,” he whispers before his lips meet mine.

My heart thuds in my ears as his tounge probes into my mouth, teasing me, and it makes me want more. My fingers lock into his thick hair as I hold him in place. This subtle gesture only excites him further. He swings me around and pushes my back against the scratchy wood. He breaks our kiss and then his lips trail down to my neck, leaving a fire in their wake. I run my fingers up and down his back. It feels good to feel so wanted by him. The way he can’t seem to get enough of me even though I’m off-limits makes me feel powerful.

His hand slips under my shirt and I let out a soft moan before his mouth covers mine again. If we keep up this pace, things will eventurally escalate beyond just making out, but I don’t want to think about what that will mean for us. The need to be as close to him as I can rocks through me. I draw my right leg up and hitch it around his hip, this time causing him to groan as he grinds his pelvis into mine. Feeling him against me has me so turned on that I can barely see straight.

I reach down and find the button on his jeans. Before I can pop the button open, his fingers wrap around my wrist, like a restraint.

“Avery . . . you have to stop tempting me. I won’t be able to keep telling you no.”

“So don’t say no,” I whisper before I bite his bottom lip. “I want you so much.”

I know I shouldn’t encourage him to break his promise to his father, but I can’t help myself.

“You know I can’t.”

I ignore his plea. My own greedy need overshadows any guilt I may feel for trying to seduce him. I move my hands back into his hair and press my body tight against his. His will seems to crumble as he grips my hips and presses me firmly into the wall. He glides his strong hand down my thigh and stops at the back side of my knee, guiding my leg back around his waist. Gripping the bottom of his shirt, I slip it up over his head and toss it across the top of the wood wall.