Wicked Love (Wicked White Series Book 3) (5 page)

“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 carefully 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

D
amn. 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

D
ay 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.

I peer at him through my shades and wait for his recovery.

“Come on, you know what I meant,” he says.

I laugh as I get up and sashay into the house to grab a different shirt, knowing that he’s watching as I walk away. Even when I’m inside, I still feel his eyes on me.

“So where are we going?” I ask in a singsong voice as we get into Tyler’s rusted pickup truck.

“Well, we’ve got to get some string to lay out the foundation,” he answers. “The lines we painted today give a good visual, but now we need to measure how high up we need to lay the blocks for the footer. The string is a guide to make sure we come up high enough and stay level. It doesn’t really matter what kind we use or where we get it.”

“Ah.” I say it like I understand what he’s talking about, but in reality I don’t have the first clue as to what he’s talking about. Maybe he and Dad know a little more about construction than I’ve been giving them credit for.

“Anywhere you want to stop?” he adds.

I shrug, nowhere comes to mind. I’d only been to town once with Dad, but I would bet money they don’t have any stores that I like to frequent. Besides, even if there were a place I’d like to shop, it’s not like I have any extra money to spend.

Money wasn’t an issue before, not when Dad still had his job. I miss those days. You never realize the privileges that you have until you suddenly lose them.

I’m completely lost in thought about our money plight when Tyler cranks up some strange music. It takes me a couple of seconds to place it, but then I realize it’s country music—a kind of music that I never listen to. This shocks me a bit, seeing as how Tyler has more of the rocker bad-boy vibe going, not to mention he plays in a pop-rock cover band.

“Do you mind if I change the station?” I ask and then reach over and spin the dial vigorously, searching for anything with a tech beat.

“Hey, hey, hey . . . what are you doing?” Tyler harps, while swatting my hand away from the buttons.

“I don’t really
do
country,” I answer with a grimace, hoping that I haven’t offended him too much.

“What? Who doesn’t
do
country?” he says with a laugh, pushing the button to start replaying his CD. “This is the best song ever.”

I lift both of my eyebrows. “This song?”

“Yes. The meaning. God, just listen to it. It gets you right here.” He points to the spot on his chest that’s directly over his heart. “This is real music.” He steals a glance at me. “Just give it a try. It’s awesome.”

It’s hard not to want to love the song after listening to the conviction in his voice. He’s so passionate about it. How can I not give it a chance like he’s asked, even if it’s not necessarily the music that I typically enjoy listening to?

It’s a song about a father losing his son. The song is about love and how even when you’ve gotten over losing someone, you never really move on—that you still hold that person close in your heart every minute of every day.

I don’t consider myself an overly emotional person, but this song could make even the hardest man in the world shed a tear or two.

I bat away a couple tears that have fallen from my eyes, and Tyler reaches over and takes my hand in his and gives it a little squeeze. “Told ya. Right in the heart. Even tough ones like yours.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not that tough.”

Tyler glances over at me and winks. “Sure you’re not, crowbar.”

We both laugh, remembering the first night we met, but it only momentarily distracts me from the fact that Tyler is now holding my hand. His palm is a little rough and I assume that’s from working in the lumberyard. I’ve never had a guy reach over and take my hand like this before while driving and I have to admit that I like it a lot. The butterflies in my stomach are going crazy right now.

Tyler pulls into the parking lot of Walmart, parks, and then runs around to my side of the truck to open the door for me. Instantly he reconnects our hands and leads me inside.

After we get everything that Dad and Tyler need, we head back to Granny’s place. For the ride home Tyler turns the radio station to a pop music channel and we jam to songs we both know all the way. Tyler and I sing most of the choruses together, but I have to admit, his voice puts mine to shame. He doesn’t complain about my singing though. Well, not much, anyway. He does laugh and shake his head a few times when I try to go all Alicia Keys on him. Tyler is extra cute when he smiles, and I even notice when he full-on laughs, two little dimples love to make an appearance. Dimples are so sexy on a guy and they send my hormones into overdrive.

We hop out of the truck once we’re parked at Granny’s, and I instantly catch a whiff of her country cooking. I don’t know how many more of these meals I can take, considering I’ve probably gained five pounds since I’ve been here. I’ve got to get stuff to make my salads before I die from heart failure from all the grease she cooks with.

Dad’s waiting on the porch for us. He calls for me and Tyler to come in and get some lunch. Granny does most of the talking while we eat—most of the time she questions Tyler about his family. Appears Granny loves to know all about the town gossip. Suddenly, I don’t feel special because she listened to all my problems for all those years while we spent hours on the phone every week. I listen as Tyler tells her about his mother.

“She’s doing better,” he says. “The first six months were rough on her after Dad died, but I think she’s doing a lot better now.”

I feel a little twinge of sadness for him. My heart goes out to him instantly knowing that he’s recently lost his father.

“That’s good to hear. I’ve been real worried about her,” Granny replies. “When my Earl passed, I realized that you never really get over losing the love of your life. The first six months is the hardest.” Granny reaches over and pats Tyler’s hand. “I’m here if either of you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Tyler says and then gives her a small smile.

After lunch, Dad asks me to come out to the construction area with him because he wants to show me a few things. Tyler trails close behind us to assist Dad with the explanation of their plans for this addition onto the house.

They both try their hardest to get me to envision my new room, but for the life of me, I can’t picture it. I don’t have a very vivid imagination. So unless something is concrete in front of me, forget it. I won’t see it. My main concern, here, is how long it’ll be until it’s done because at this rate, it’ll be a while. Right now, there are only a few post holes dug in the ground and a bunch of tools lying everywhere. I’m still not convinced this is a very good idea.

“Dad, this seems like a lot of work. I really don’t mind just sleeping on the couch.” I attempt to give him an out if he feels like he’s in over his head with this project, but Dad doesn’t take it.

“Don’t be silly, Avery. Granny really wants you to have this room. It will probably take a few weeks. There’s only so much Tyler and I can get done in a day, but don’t worry. It’s going to get done,” Dad answers.

“I’ll be here as much as I can, but I work at least five days a week at the lumberyard. Hopefully, we’ll get it finished before the summer is over,” Tyler adds.

“I really appreciate all your help on the place, Tyler. It will be nice to have my own space while I’m here,” I admit.

He smiles. “I’ll do all that I can to see that we get it done.”

“Okay, I’m going to take some of these tools into the barn to keep them out of the weather. Avery, honey, will you help Tyler carry all of his tools to his truck?” Dad asks.

“Sure thing.”

I turn to Tyler once Dad is gone and ask him which tools are his so I can start picking up. Tyler points out a couple hammers and a few other weird-looking metal objects, so I grab them and carry them toward his truck.

I sling Tyler’s tools into the bed of his truck. I never pictured Tyler as being a handyman type when I met him a couple weeks ago, let alone a guy that owned a bunch of tools.

“Jeez, if you wanted me to stay, all you had to do was ask. You don’t have to throw my tools around like that and try to break my truck. I mean, I know those hammers are no crowbar, but I still worry about the safety of my truck when you are near it with any kind of metal,” Tyler says in a mocking tone.

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” I tell him.

“Good thing these old tools are tough. They can take a beating from the likes of you, I think.” He smiles and those dang dimples come out again, making me a little weak in the knees. I expect another wisecrack from him any second while he continues to put away his tools, but every time he sees me glance at him, all I get is another smile.

“Okay, look. I know that you’re obsessed with me, so if I ask you out—show you a little attention—will you stop staring at me all the time?” He chuckles.

My mouth drops open. Someone’s awfully full of themselves. I’m not even sure how to answer that. I know he’s kidding around with me, but is it that obvious that I really am staring at him all the time?