Wicked Love (Wicked White Series Book 3)

by Michelle A. Valentine

  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?

  “Come out with me tonight?” he asks.

  “You want to go out with me?” I question while wearing a teasing smile.

  “Well, usually I think it’s only fitting we go out on a real date seeing as we’ve already been out to Walmart and all. I don’t take girls there until at least the second or third date . . . but you’re special, and since our little trip together today was sort of our date number three, we can just pretend tonight will be date number four.” He grins.

  “Date four, huh? What’s in store for girls on date number four?” I ask, playing along.

  “You’ll have to say yes first. Then you’ll find out.”

  I absolutely love the way Tyler is so playful. I can really see myself falling for him, so I need to remind myself to take things slow with him and figure out if he’s really the nice guy that he seems to be. All I ever seem to attract are jerks, but Tyler seems so different from all the other guys I dated back on campus. He’s nice and seems to genuinely care about more than just himself. He was there for me when my friends bailed, and he was the one who came out to check on me at the frat party, and both times he didn’t know me at all. Today when he took my hand, I felt a connection with him, and I really want to see where this will lead. It will crush me if he isn’t as genuine as he appears to be. But, I’ll never know unless I give him a real shot.

  “Why not?” I smile.

  “Yeah?” he says, sounding a little hopeful.

  “Yeah.”

  “Great. I’ll come back and pick you up about seven thirty.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  I’m so excited to see what Tyler has in store for a real date, and I know it’s going to be hard to control myself around him tonight. I find him ridiculously attractive, and that could be a very dangerous thing because I’m not quite ready to go through heartbreak again so soon. If it turns out Tyler is only interested in me for sex, I might just give up on the entire male species.

  AVERY

  The sun is still perched in the sky when Tyler comes to pick me up. I glance down at the clock on my cell phone. It’s seven thirty on the dot. The guy is punctual, I’ll give him that.

  “So where are we off too?” I ask, while sliding on my trademark D&G shades as he fires up the truck.

  “Well, I figure since it’s date number four, I’d take you to get something to eat over at the local burger place, and then we could just hang out at a local spot I know,” Tyler answers.

  “I haven’t been out to eat in a while and I’ve been dying for a good salad.” God knows I need to start eating them again. I know I’ve only been at Granny’s a few days, but I can already feel the fat stockpiling in my body. Man, where’s Lars when you need him? He would die if he knew I’ve been stuffing my face with fried food and skipping my run every day. I keep telling myself I’ll run some extra miles to work off all the greasy deliciousness, but I never have. I’m not lazy, exactly, I just don’t want to run down some back country road all by myself. I’ve seen all the movies. I know what happens when girls go off by themselves in small wooded towns like this.

  “You know, you look great, Avery. You don’t need to eat just a salad for me. I like a girl with a little meat on her bones,” Tyler says.

  Obviously, he’s never met fat Avery. Guys don’t really mean it when they say those kinds of things. Guys will make comments like that to me now that I’m pretty and thin, but when I was a little chunky, they wouldn’t have given me the time of day. Hypocrites, that’s what all guys are. They have no idea how hard women have to work to look good.

  “Right,” I say. “I suppose you would’ve asked me out if I weighed about fifty pounds more.”

  “Of course I would’ve,” he replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

  That’s a little hard for me to believe, seeing as how I wasn’t asked out one time while I was in high school. He’ll say anything to get in my pants, just like all the guys back home. Guys from my high school would try to feed me lines when they saw me after graduation like how they always noticed me, and how they wanted to talk to me, but they were just too shy. Give me a break. They weren’t too shy to ask me out after I started wearing skirts and showing off a little more skin. Guys must think we’re total idiots.

  We ride in silence the rest of the way to the burger joint as I silently wish that I’m wrong about Tyler. That he’s not superficial and is really the nice guy that he portrays himself to be.

  On the other side of town, Tyler turns into the parking lot of the drive-in restaurant. It reminds me of those places in the old fifties movies where the teenagers would hang out on the weekends. It’s like Sonic, but only it’s old school. The sign even says EST. 1952, so clearly this place has withstood the test of time.

  We park under the car canopy and Tyler rolls his window down, since the menu is on his side. Tyler presses a red button that alerts the restaurant staff that we’re here. Tyler rattles a few items off the menu to me while we wait for someone to serve us.

  It’s hard to picture Mom and Dad at a place like this. I wonder if my dad ever brought Mom here when they were dating in college. As long as I can remember, they’ve never really gotten along. They fought constantly, and Mom just never seemed happy.

  Granny said she never cared for Mom. She once told me on the phone about the day Dad brought Mom home to meet her for the very first time. Granny said she knew right then and there that Mom would break Dad’s heart.

  Granny must be psychic, because that’s exactly what happened.

  “So, what do you want?” Tyler questions as he looks over the menu through his open window.

  “A house salad, with fat-free Italian, please,” I say.

  Tyler turns and points his gaze directly at me. “I thought we already went over this. You don’t have—”

  I hold up my hand to cut him off. “It’s for me, okay? I like to keep track of what I eat, is all.”

  “Avery,” he says my name so softly that it makes my stomach flip. “This is a burger place . . . get a burger, please,” he pleads. “Besides, I don’t think this is exactly the best place to get a salad. No one comes here for those, so the stuff would probably be all rotten.”

  Eww. Gross. That thought never crossed my mind before, but now that he’s brought it up, my stomach churns.

  “Okay, fine. But I expect to see you bright and early to help me run a couple extra miles to work it off,” I say in a teasing tone.

  He looks at me and smiles. “Deal.”

  The waitress finally comes out wearing a pin-striped apron over her white oxford and takes our order. When she’s gone, Tyler and I make small talk about the city of Wellston and what a typical Friday night is like around here for single people like us. From what I gather from Tyler, there’s nothing to do, which is why he spends most of his weekends in Columbus.

  The next thing I know, our waitress returns with our food. She takes care to clip the tr
ay onto the side of Tyler’s truck before she scurries off. After he divvies up everything, we sit in the cab of his truck with greasy burgers and fries on our laps. Not the most glamorous of first official dates, even though he claims this is date number four, but it’s kind of perfect. There’s no stress to try and impress him. Tyler seems content just being in the truck with me.

  I practically inhale my burger, fries, and shake. It’s been a long time since I allowed myself to eat anything like this and I forgot how wonderfully sinful a mouthful of fast food tastes. It’s like heaven in a wrapper. I keep having to mentally remind myself why I must limit myself with this kind of food. I don’t want to become Avery Gravy again.

  I shudder at those words. I haven’t thought of that name for a couple years now and I’ve done my best to keep that painful memory bottled up. Brad Rutherford ever so graciously gave that name to me in the sixth grade when I got upset because I couldn’t have a second helping of mashed potatoes and gravy during a class field trip. Everyone laughed, of course, when Brad started taunting me. I cried, but no one noticed. I was invisible—no one ever took the time to see me as a person who had feelings. All people ever focused on was the outside. Kids at that age never care how the fat girl feels.

  I shake my head to clear my mind and decide that I’m going to enjoy this meal and to hell with the dietary consequences.

  Every time I sneak a glance in Tyler’s direction, he’s watching me. That makes me feel a little self-conscious.

  What is he staring at?

  Doesn’t he know that we girls like to chow down without someone watching our every move?

  “Told you that you’d like the burger.” He smiles, clearly pleased that I’m enjoying the food.

  I nod, without saying a word. I can’t open my mouth to say anything even if I want to. I’m struggling to just breathe around the meaty goodness. We finish our respective meals and Tyler heads out for the next part of mysterious date number four.

  We drive around town, and he gives me the lowdown on what’s hot here in sticksville. Not much, but I can’t say that that shocks me. When we drove through town yesterday, there was a whole lot of nothing.