So Trashy (Bad Boy Next Door Book 2) Read Free Page B

taking in her scent. Magnolias
and—vanilla? Whatever it is, it’s beautiful. I cross my arms over my bare
chest, studying her. She’s not changed much. Her body is more defined, maybe,
but not unrecognizable. My body sure enough recognizes her.
    Her eyebrows arch. “You got me, Wylder?”
    “Not yet. But soon.”
    Her mouth drops open a fraction of an inch. She snaps her
jaw closed, and her eyes narrow.
    I’m not sure what’s gotten into me, but I might like it. “I’ll
see you around, Lou.”
    I toss her a wink and throw my wet shirt over my shoulder,
sauntering off, formulating a plan.
    My phone vibrates in my back pocket.
    Shit. Arianne.
    I’ve got more pussy than I can shake my dick at. Why the
fuck did I bother banging this one more than once? Because, it was slim
pickings on location in remote parts of Italy. Turned out to be nothing but
trouble. And, it’s a pot of trouble I can’t seem to un-brew.
    I swipe my finger over the screen. “What do you want?”
    “God, Buck. Don’t you ever call?” Her voice grates on my
eardrum.
    “We’re not an actual couple, Arianne. I thought we
established that.”
    “Your pool guy didn’t show up yesterday. There’s all this
stuff floating on the water. I can’t even get in. And Gretchen didn’t fold my
laundry the way I showed her. I swear that girl is dense. The worst domestic
help I’ve ever encountered. And—”
    What the hell? “Hold the fuck up. You were supposed to be
gone by last Sunday. What the hell are you still doing at my place?”
    “Things came up. I haven’t found an apartment yet.”
    I close my eyes, massaging the crease forming between my
brows. “Arianne, I’ve been gone for the last eight fucking weeks. Enough is
enough.”
    “Now, Bucky, you know you miss me. I’d hate to have to tell
Daddy you were ugly to me.”
    She tires me. No piece of ass is worth this shit.
    “Look, Arianne, I have to go. Find another place to crash,
would ya?”
    I slide my finger across the screen. End call.
    I only wish it meant it was the last I’d hear from Arianne
McDowell, though I have my doubts.

FOUR

    I lay with my arm over my eyes. Sleep refuses to come. I
toss, turn, and flip from stomach to back, and over again.
    No good.
    I can’t clear my mind of the image of Buck with no shirt, his
chest all hard muscle and dripping wet, with water running in rivulets over his
washboard abs. It’s so unfair. I come home and he has to show up. It’s like the
universe conspires against my peace of mind.
    Throwing the covers off, I climb out of bed. I tiptoe
through the kitchen, cringing when the floorboards squeak. I’m careful to shut
the door as quietly as I can as I sneak outside.
    The trees block the stars, but the breeze is nice. This is
when I need to weed the flower beds—when it’s dark out and not so fucking
miserably hot.
    The house is built on stilts to avoid flood waters, so
parking and storage are beneath the living quarters. I wade through the piles
of junk until I find the door to the storage room. I pull the chain to turn on
the single, naked light bulb. I twist my hair up into a wild knot, securing it
with a zip tie from the rusty can on the floor. Taking a lantern, my gloves, and
the spade from the shelf, I throw them into the half broke-down wheelbarrow. I
push it out to the place where I stopped.
    The moon shines through the pines in patches of light, the
breeze moving the spotty nightshade in an eerie dance. I rustle the weeds and
scare away any snakes or creepy crawlies. I get to my knees and continue
working where I left off before.
    I hack away at the base of a particularly stubborn
dandelion-on-steroids when a twig crunches behind me. I jump to my feet and
lurch around, hands up, ready to defend myself.
    A dark figure leans against the trunk of the
hundred-year-old oak.
    “You out here burying a body, digging in the dirt like that
in the middle of the night?” His deep voice calls forth memories I’ve tried to
lock away.
    I