I grin and return the squeeze to her hand. “You look pretty good yourself.”
And she does, better than she’s looked in years it seems.
She gives me a one eyebrow quirk. “That’s what having your dad behind bars and plenty of solid rest and rehab will do for you. I have some really good reasons to keep it together. I think this time, it’ll stick. ”
Her gaze travels around the room, landing on Rachel and darting back to me.
The music slows and I give Mom a hug and kiss her on the cheek. I lean closer to her ear, so only she can hear. “Yes, and soon you’ll have another reason.”
* * *
Later, I place my hand over Mo’s and we slice the cake. Weird, all these traditions. But I told Mo whatever she wants.
She smiles up at me, eyes shining. I slide my hand around to her belly, cupping the almost imperceptible swell there. Her body has changed since I first touched her, but my desire for her hasn’t waned in the least.
We smile for the photographer.
I whisper, “I love you, Mrs. Jennings.”
She leans against me. “I love you, too.”
Rach stands on the sidelines, waving at us with my chubby blonde’s tiny hand. Little Katrina’s dimples shine, and her one tooth glistens while slobber rolls down her chin. Before long, my little green-eyed charmer will be the big sister, not the baby.
Thank you for reading SO. BAD. a Bad Boy Next Door novel. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review on its Amazon page. You can find it on Amazon here:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B014GESY0S
Keep turning pages to read SO. TRASHY. a Bad Boy Next Door novel
SO. TRASHY.
Bad Boy Next Door
Collection
Kelley Harvey
For all the women who serve their nations.
You are all bad girls…bad-ass girls!
Thank you for your service.
Also, for Karla Pierce, for being my staunch
supporter, friend, and fellow reformed bad girl.
Oh, and for pushing me to write a story
where the girl gets to be bad for a change.
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.