White Trash Beautiful (5 page)

“Where ya going? I was only playing!” Tucker called after me.

I smiled to myself. “I’m taking off, Larry.” I untied my apron and tossed it on the counter. He gave me a curious look, but I ignored him and headed back into the dining area. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Tucker grinned from ear to ear. He hopped up and placed his hand on the small of my back as we made our way out into the parking lot. “You know I don’t back down from a challenge.”

I was exhausted from the tense day, but my adrenaline was racing now with the tingle from his fingers on my spine. We reached his bike and I took a moment to look it over. I had never been on one before, and I suddenly became afraid.

Tucker let out a small chuckle and held out his spare helmet to me. “It’ll be fine, I promise. I won’t let you get hurt.”

I took the helmet and slid it over my head. Many people had made promises to me in the past and I knew better than to ever take them seriously, but for some reason I believed Tucker. He went out of his way to make me safe, keep me protected, even when he couldn’t do it in person, and that had to count for something.

He slipped his leg over the bike and stood it upright, knocking back the kickstand with his boot. “Come on.” He slipped his helmet onto his head and held out his hand for me.

Electricity shot through the tips of my fingers as they connected
with his. I honestly couldn’t remember ever getting this feeling with Jax, even when things weren’t so bad. It was both frightening and incredibly exciting. I lifted my leg over the back of the giant black machine and settled my body against his. It was awkward being so close to someone I didn’t know. “Where do I hold on?”

He reached back and grabbed my hands, wrapping them around his waist. “Hold on to me, sweetheart.” He rubbed my hand, then quickly went back to the handlebars. The bike roared to life, but I hardly heard it over the sound of my heart thumping in my ears. His body was rock hard under my fingers, and I could feel the ridges of his stomach muscles as they pulled and tensed under my fingertips.

We rode a few miles into the city under the cloak of darkness. Everything was so much more beautiful at night. The stores and restaurants were lit with softly glowing signs. We traveled up Interstate 95 for about twenty minutes, but it didn’t feel long enough. I wasn’t ready to give up my seat on the back of Tucker’s bike, even if it was only mine for the night.

I guided him down River Street. The bike jumped against the cobblestones of the road, and we had to slow to nearly walking speed to keep from rattling our brains.

River Street is a popular tourist spot during the day, but at night it comes alive with the locals out to have some fun. Music overflowed into the street along with the people who were drinking and having a good time. Vendors line up outside the shops to sell their homemade crafts and paintings.

“Let’s grab a drink,” he called over his shoulder as he pulled the bike to the designated parking lot along the river. I pulled off my helmet and yanked off the tie on my hair, shaking it free to cascade down my back.
What was I thinking, going out in my work clothes?
My eyes scanned the crowd of women wearing miniskirts and cutoff shorts to help fight off the heat on this balmy night.

Tucker took the helmet from my hand and secured it to the back of his bike while he watched me play with my hair.

“I’m not really dressed for this.” I looked down at my black polo shirt and black slacks. I looked horrible.

Tucker’s eyes scanned the storefronts. “There!” He pointed to one of the little shops along the river. A red canopy hung over the door. In thick black cursive was written
SCARLETT’S.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me across the street. The shop owner was just taking their dress racks inside to close for the evening.

“Wait! One second! We need a dress.” He grinned his impossibly sexy smile and pulled me past her. I gave her an apologetic grin as we slipped inside the store, but she was busy drooling over Tucker. He seemed to have that effect on everyone. The store was small and crammed with racks of bohemian-style dresses and cases of jewelry. The walls were stone and painted a beautiful gold.

Tucker began leafing through the dresses on the racks, finally selecting one that he handed over to me. “Try this one.”

“That’s not a dress, it’s a scarf.” I glared at him.

He smiled and stuck it back on the rack, flipping through a few more. “How about this?”

I held the dress to my body. It was beautiful and definitely not my style. Not that I had a style. I wore hand-me-downs and thrift-store finds. This was an elegant, cream-colored garment decorated with pale purple flowers. The halter dress reminded me of Marilyn Monroe.

“I can’t afford this.” I made a face at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll buy it, just try it on.”

I hesitated, suddenly bristling at his unsolicited generosity. What did he want from me? Did he think of me as a charity case? I didn’t need his handouts. I was doing just fine on my own. I began to place the dress back in his hands. I didn’t need or want someone to swoop in and rescue me from my life. Everything comes with a price, and he would surely want something from me I was not willing to give.

“No, it’s fine . . . this really isn’t my style—”

“Cass. Please just try on the dress. I’m not trying anything here, I just really think it will look beautiful on you. And you . . . you deserve to wear something as stunning as you are tonight, sweetheart.”

I searched his face, trying to figure this guy out.

His fingers wrapped around my hand that was holding the dress as he sighed. “I know you don’t want anyone to help you.” He laughed. “You’re stubborn like I am, but I’ll win this argument.”

I made a face at him, frustrated that he was able to read me so well. I was usually so good at guarding myself. But I wasn’t willing to relent yet. I held his gaze, silently willing him to say more.

“Fine.” He cleared his throat. “I know what it’s like, Cass, to feel like nobody gives a shit about you. I also know that sometimes we need someone else to make us feel like we’re worth something . . . to make us feel special, you know?”

“I’m not.”

Tucker cocked his head to the side, a small, nervous smile playing on his lips. He paused before continuing, “When I was little, my parents were always too busy for me. They were more concerned about chasing their next high than whether or not their son had learned his alphabet or even taken his first steps.” His gaze dropped to our joined hands. I gave him a reassuring squeeze so he would continue. “I was so desperate to have someone notice me, to show me I was important to them, that I spent my fourth birthday in a hospital.” His eyes flicked to mine, gauging my response.

“What happened?” I held my breath as I waited to hear the rest of his story.

“You remember the cartoon
Underdog
?”

I nodded.

“Well, I was determined to teach myself to fly like him. I figured if I could fly, I could be a superhero and save my family. Only it turns out I couldn’t, and the fall from a tree in our backyard broke my leg.”

“Oh my God.” I covered my mouth with my free hand.

“The worst part was not being found for over an hour.”

“I’m so sorry, Tucker.”

“Don’t be. The point is, you can’t always fix things on your own. Sometimes you need someone to help you. Sometimes we just need to be noticed. I couldn’t fly but I don’t regret trying. How would I know I couldn’t if I didn’t at least try? Besides, if it weren’t for that, I may have spent the rest of my childhood with them. I was removed from the house and spent a few years being sent to different foster homes until I ended up with Dorris. It was worth it in the end.” He smiled, his eyes still downcast. “Sometimes you have to fall before you can fly . . . and sometimes you need someone to catch you.” He looked up. “Even you, Cass.”

He was right. I never tried to step outside my life and make things better. I never took a chance. He was also right about winning this argument. How could I refuse to try on the dress now?

“You win.” I glanced around the store and found a small area curtained off in the far right corner of the shop. I dashed for it as Tucker grabbed a pair of sandals. I slipped off my clothes and pulled the dress over my head. There was no mirror, so I looked down at myself, trying to see if it looked okay.

“Come on, Cass. I’m dying out here.”

I took a deep breath, pulled back the curtain, and stepped out into the main area. Tucker’s eyes lit up and he smiled, but as he looked me over, his expression soon turned dark.

I couldn’t keep from pouting. Did I look that bad? Was his effort to transform this white-trash waitress into a swan that much of a failure? He stepped closer, and I self-consciously turned to go back into the changing area. He grabbed my arm gently before I could enter. I looked down at his hand and realized what had upset him. The dark purple bruises wrapped around my arm like a barbaric tattoo. My hand shot up to cover the area. Tucker clenched his jaw in anger.

He turned to a rack behind him, grabbed a light purple
cardigan, and handed it to me. I gave him a small smile as I slipped it off the hanger and slid it on.

“My mother wore one of these every day.” He gave me a weak smile and grabbed my discarded clothing. I tried to push the thought of a young Tucker seeing his mother covered in bruises out of my mind.

I barely recognized myself in the mirror that hung behind the register. I no longer looked like a dirty girl from the trailer park. I raised my chin and smiled at myself.

“You look beautiful.” He took my hand and pulled me to the register.

I slipped out of my sneakers and slid on my new brown strappy sandals, mildly surprised he’d guessed my shoe size. No one had ever called me beautiful before, not even Jax.
Hot
maybe, but never
beautiful
. The word made me feel elegant, worldly. I wondered if he said it out of pity.

He grabbed a silver locket that hung next to the register. I gasped when I saw the price, but Tucker slid his credit card to the salesgirl, saying, “Please. I dragged you out tonight, and it’s the least I can do.”

He shoved my old belongings in a bag. We made our way back to the bike and he tucked my bag next to the helmets. “Turn around.”

I hesitated, but slowly turned toward the water.

“Lift your hair,” he whispered next to my ear, his warm, minty breath blowing against my neck.

I gathered my hair and held it up as he slipped the delicate chain around my neck and fastened it. I let my hair fall down over my shoulders and turned to face him, my fingers tracing the small piece of heart-shaped metal.

“Perfect,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

I couldn’t help but smile.

He took my hand again and pulled me across the cobblestone road. We passed Scarlett’s and made our way a few doors up to one
of the livelier bars. The doors were wide-open and a mechanical bull sat straight ahead. I shot him a warning look and he just shook his head and smiled.

“Wait here.” His hand left mine as he snaked his way to the bar.

I stood awkwardly alone as I glanced around the bar. Three guys were looking in my direction, smiling and whispering something. I ran my hand over the front of my new dress and looked away, embarrassed. I wasn’t fooling anyone. I didn’t belong here.

Tucker returned with two beers. He held one out for me and I took it with an appreciative smile. He followed my gaze and glared at the men, who turned back to their table as if they didn’t see us.

“Thanks.” I took a long pull from the bottle, drinking half of it in one long sip. He laughed and ran his hand through his hair, following suit.

We stood together, watching the other patrons dance. The song switched and I immediately recognized it as “Loved” by Damaged, the song that had played at the diner.

Tucker smiled, taking a sip of his drink and setting it on the table behind him. He took the beer from my hand as well, set it down, and pulled me into the middle of the bar. “It’s our song,” he said with a laugh.

“Oh, no . . . no . . . no . . . I don’t dance.” I tried to pull back but he tightened his grip on my hand and winked.

“I don’t have to tell you another sad story to get my way, do I, sweetheart?”

My stomach knotted with guilt as I thought of Jax waiting at home for me. I knew that even if I jumped from a tree, he wouldn’t notice. My heart stopped for a moment, and the world around us seemed to fade away. All rational thought escaped me as I let myself be pulled onto the dance floor.

Once we were deep enough into the crowd, he stopped and pulled me into him. My hands landed on his hard chest as his found their way to my lower back, tugging me flush against him.
His hips began to move against mine, and I was stuck, frozen like a deer.

“Just do what I do. It’s not hard.” His hips continued to rock. I slowly began to move against him as my hands slid up to his neck. He pulled me closer until our cheeks touched, his warm breath blowing against my ear. Quietly he sang along to the lyrics as we moved together—“ ‘I want to make you feel beautiful’ ”—sending a chill through my body even in the warmth of the room.

The place was packed, but it felt as if everyone else had disappeared. I closed my eyes and listened to his beautiful voice in my ear. My own private concert.

His hand slowly rubbed my back, relaxing me. In that moment, I forgot about everything. Forgot my life in the trailer park. About Jackson and my mother. All I saw was Tucker. All I felt was the sweet and gentle way he touched me. No one had ever held me like this before. Looking at Tucker, you wouldn’t think he had such a sweet side to him. I realized I had judged him the way people judge me. He was so much more under those sexy tattoos.

One song bled into the next. The tempo picked up, and with a little more liquid courage, I was dancing right along with Tucker. I felt free.

“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I asked loudly into his ear so he could hear me over the music.

“You like that? You know what they say about how a man dances?”