Miss Trailerhood by Carina Taylor (the top 100 crime novels of all time .txt) 📗

much younger than me—at least six months. I was practically old enough to be his mother. I should not be admiring how he looked in a suit. Or remember the ease with which he picked me up the day before.

I shook my head to derail that train of thought and bent down to pick up the nail before one of us stepped on it. "You need to leave now. You'll ruin everything."

He pointed at the broken windowsill and raised his eyebrows. "Looks like you're the one ruining everything around here."

I grunted in frustration as he picked up the hammer, pried the nail from my fingers with ease, and nailed it into the wall. Next, he bent down, picking up the frame and hanging it on the wall.

He took a step backward and tripped—he really should have looked where he was going. It wasn't my fault that I needed to stretch my leg right as he moved.

A large hand latched onto my shoulder as he steadied himself. "A little petty, even for you, Riley."

I didn't dignify him with a response. "Your hand is still on my shoulder."

Instead of removing it, he brought his second hand to my other shoulder then gently squeezed. He worked his hands up and down my arms, squeezing and patting them.

"What are you doing?" Inwardly, I stomped my foot to accentuate the question. I didn’t dare do something so immature outwardly—he’d never let me live it down.

"Hmm, you're smaller than I remembered."

I windmilled my arms to fling his hands off me. Of course I was smaller than he remembered. I'd started running in college and finally leaned up. It meant I had to run regularly to maintain it, unfortunately.

"Are you going to comment on my weight now?"

"Yeah. You're too thin." He shrugged and turned around and walked out the front door. I hurried after him.

"I am not too thin! And I hope you remember that when you leave!"

Instead of climbing into his driver's seat to leave, he grabbed a box out of the back of his Jeep and carried it inside the house. I trailed behind him again, attempting to latch onto his elbow. If he wouldn't listen to my words, I'd have to use physical force. I didn't grow up in a trailer park for nothing.

I missed his elbow, but I got a hold of his soft T-shirt as he walked into the kitchen. "Turn around and take that back out there. I'm not allowing you to stay!"

Nate put the box on the counter. He set four coffee mugs in the cupboard as I made ineffectual tugs on his shirt.

"I swear, Nate, I will drag you out of here if I have to," I ground out.

I spotted the dimple on the side of his cheek as he grinned.

That was it. This was no longer about keeping my world safe; it was about not letting Nate win.

"Here, let's hang this one up next." He pulled another frame out of the first box. It was a picture of Nola, Nate, and me when we were in high school. I still had my baby cheeks, and Nate had both Nola and me in a headlock while we laughed hysterically. To say it was an unflattering picture would have been an understatement.

"No!" I gasped.

His second dimple appeared as his grin widened. He marched into the living room with determination. "Yes."

I followed him and wrapped both my hands around his arm before he could reach the hammer.

My hands couldn't even meet around his bicep. When had string-bean Nate thickened up like this? It wasn't right! I used to boss him around. I used to physically shove him out of Nola's room when he kept sneaking in to play pranks on us on sleepover nights.

Right now, I felt like I was wrapping my hands around a tree trunk.

For all my pushing and pulling, I only moved him a couple inches to the left.

"Oh, you're so right," he said. "It would look much better over there. That way, it will be the centerpiece of the living room."

I abandoned my pulling method and attempted pushing. It brought him closer to the wall.

He pulled another nail from his pocket while I did my best to pry the hammer out of his hand.

"You know, Riley, you're so helpful. I think you're exactly right. I should hang it a little higher." With that, he lifted the hammer with the arm I was wrapped around and hammered the nail into the wall.

Realizing that all of my weight wasn’t enough to stop him, I let go of his arm. I would have to change my tactic. Maybe his balance wasn't as good as it used to be.

Nate bent down to lay the hammer on the ground. I slammed against his side, wrapping my arms around his waist as I shoved him toward the front door. I moved him a foot before he regained his footing. If someone were to walk by, they would assume I was hugging a long-lost friend, not trying to throw him from the single-wide.

He stood up and looked at me. "It's like having a puppy around here, begging for attention."

He patted the top of my head as I tried to shove him while simultaneously reaching for the doorknob. "I told you I'd make you leave."

I leaned against him, planting my hands on his abs. I couldn't tell if he was flexing, because I was so busy straining myself, but I did take a moment to appreciate his stomach muscles. The ridges were there, even through the T-shirt material.

I feathered my fingers lightly against him, appreciating the muscles for a moment.

He flinched and took a step back.

And then I remembered exactly how I'd kicked him out of Nola's room all those years earlier.

Nate's eyes widened as I lunged for him again.

"You're making me have to fight dirty!" I told him.

I tickled him mercilessly as I backed him toward the door. His shouts of laughter echoed throughout the empty single-wide. I got the door open and backed