So Trashy:Bad Boy Next Door 2

By: Kelley Harvey

Bad Boy Next Door Book 2





ONE





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?”

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