Queen of my double wide.., p.1
Queen of my Double-Wide Trailer, page 1
QUEEN OF MY DOUBLE-WIDE TRAILER
A SWEET SOUTHERN ROMANTIC COMEDY
KACI LANE
Copyright © 2023 by Kaci Lane
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means without written permission from the author.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Try the First Book in the Series
About the Author
Books by Kaci Lane
CHAPTER ONE
Liam
“Oh, I’m not a member.” I give Bambi a lopsided grin.
Yes, that’s her actual name, or at least the name she goes by in school.
She tilts her head toward the frat house, then at me.
“You said we could go to this party when I asked.”
“And we can. Several of my buddies are members.”
She crosses her arms. “My big sister said I’m supposed to find a guy from one of our fellow fraternities to take to the mixer.”
I shrug. “Okay, go find one.”
Her eyes bug.
“What?”
“You just took me out to dinner.”
“And?”
She bats her eyes, and her long top lashes catch in her blond bangs. I may as well end this now, since there’s no way I’m paying to sit through her chomping a salad again. Between the nonstop talking and heavy makeup, she reminds me way too much of my Aunt Misty.
“You don’t care if I go in that house and look for a new date?” Bambi chokes out.
“Since I don’t meet your qualifications, I’d be a fool to hold you back from someone who does.”
She pouts until her lips resemble a fish face. I start up the porch to the house, and she catches my arm. “Where are you going?”
“The party.”
“Without me?”
I throw up my hands. “Look, you asked to come here, so I brought you. Do you want to go or not?”
Her eyes trail across the front of the house like she’s pondering what’s inside. I shake my head and brush past her, through the front door.
Kenny Chesney echoes across the room just loud enough for me to make out the lyrics above everyone talking. A mechanical bull is set up where the coffee table usually stays. Three girls in tight skirts attempt to straddle it. One makes it on, then falls off on the first spin. Another falls down laughing at her and spills her White Claw. I let out a long breath and head for the kitchen.
Partying has never been my scene. Maybe I’m an old soul, but I’d rather spend my weekends in a tree stand than doing a keg stand. But I have enough friends here to know where they keep the good stuff.
I reach past a couple making out and open the refrigerator door. In the very back, hidden behind all the alcohol, is a gallon of Milo’s sweet tea. I pull it out and smile when I notice the untouched lid.
Nobody’s tinkered with it yet, which means it’s not spiked.
I find a red Solo cup and pour it full of tea. Then I set the jug on the counter since the kissing couple has plastered themselves in front of the refrigerator. Best not chance accidentally touching the girl and getting myself in trouble.
That’s usually how things go for me.
I like to flirt and tease, but I never mess around. I’m all bark and no bite, but somehow that comes back to bite me in the butt.
I chug my tea and head out back to find my friends. If Bambi needs a ride when I’m ready, I’ll gladly drop her off. Then I’ll never give her a ride—or a date—again.
She’s just another name on my long list of disappointing girls. I was told college would have plenty of smart, ambitious women. So far, I’ve only attracted the type hunting a good time or a Mrs. Degree.
That’s not really a thing, though I’ve overheard plenty of girls say they came to college to find a husband. Good luck with that.
I scratch my head and survey the lawn full of drunken cowboys and semi-preppy country boys. None of them look remotely interested in finding a wife, myself included. Though I admit I wouldn’t mind having a girlfriend.
“Liam!”
A thin arm swings around my chest, jerking me back. I steady my cup to keep from spilling my tea before turning around. A tall girl with braided hair smiles and giggles.
I recognize the face, but a name doesn’t come to mind.
She attempts to straighten her Christmas headband, but makes it worse. A tiny bell at the top jingles as she fumbles with it.
“I’m wearing mistletoe.”
“Actually that’s holly. Mistletoe is white.”
“Oh, silly.” She swipes her hand down my chest.
I take a step to walk away, but she grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me to her. She presses her lips to mine before I can shake her loose.
“Liam!”
How is she yelling and kissing me at the same time?
I hear my name again and open one eye. Bambi is behind us. I jump back, causing the girl who doesn’t know mistletoe to stumble.
“How could you on a date with me!”
“I thought you ended our date.”
Bambi’s blue eyes turn ice cold. “When did I do that?”
“When you went to look for other guys.”
“I never said I was done with you.”
“I’m sorry, she just attacked me.” I point to holly headband, who isn’t amused.
“Attacked you? You kissed me back.”
“I . . .” Both girls stare daggers at me as I back away.
My buddy Tiger walks up in a Santa suit. He’s holding a black trash bag in one hand. Maybe that’s his Santa sack. You never know with Tiger. He swings his arms around the girls’ shoulders.
“Ho, ho, ho, who wants to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what y’all want for Christmas?”
Bambi snarls at the trash bag beside her and the braid girl rolls her eyes. They both cut loose and go separate ways.
“Thanks.” I smirk at Tiger.
He looks ridiculous drowning in that suit. Not to mention he’s wearing a cowboy hat and no beard.
“Must be the suit.” He sniffs his sleeve. “Stephen picked it up at a thrift store.”
I laugh and drink the rest of my tea.
“What was that catfight about?”
“They’re mad at me over nothing, as usual.”
He holds his belt and lets out a mock Santa chuckle. I notice he’s wearing one of his rodeo belt buckles. Figures. I rarely see him without one. But if I rode bulls, I might be the same way.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“I was on a date with the blond, and she wanted to come here after supper.”
He lifts his chin.
“There was a bit of a misunderstanding as to when the date ended.”
He nods. “Been there.”
Tiger starts walking, picking up trash along the way. I follow him across the backyard and under a volleyball net. He stops at a cooler and grabs two waters, handing one to me.
“Thanks.”
We stand at the edge of the property and stare into the road. It’s that crazy time of year when everyone is done with finals but nobody has gone home yet.
I stare at Tiger’s ridiculous outfit as he chugs his water. His eyes bug and he points toward the road, shaking his hand wildly.
“What?”
He spits some water and gasps. “Ain’t that your truck?”
I crane my neck to find my taillights dimming as the truck turns down a side road. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I take off running.
Even though I’m running back for my intramural flag football team, steel-toe boots and a belly full of sweet tea don’t do me any favors. I whip my arms back and forth to gain momentum. I spot a blond head in the driver’s seat right before I catch up to it.
Bambi turns her head, sees me, and gasses it.
I run about another block before she screeches the tires and heads for a different area of campus. I bend with my hands on my knees to catch my breath, then pull out my phone.
“Ho, ho, hello?” Tiger drawls out his words like the crazy cowboy Santa he is.
“Tiger.” I pause and catch my breath. “Come get me. I’m halfway to the stadium. I lost the truck when it headed toward town.”
“Dude, I’ve had a margarita.”
I sigh. “Just one?”
He hesitates. “You know I’m a lightweight. Anyhow, Conner made it.”
Enough said. It was probably ninety percent alcohol and big as a cow trough.
“All right. I’ll get an Uber.”
I hang up on Tiger and go to the Uber app.
“You’ve
I scroll through my contacts. Everyone I know here was at the party . . . except.
There’s one person I’m certain isn’t at a party, because she doesn’t go anywhere that’s fun. I’ve never asked her for a favor before, and we’re not exactly friends, but she’s the most dependable person I know. The ideal choice for when I need someone sober and sane enough to drive me around to find my truck.
I hover over her name for a second before clicking the call button. My ear tingles as the phone rings. I’ll likely get a motherly speech about how I shouldn’t leave my keys in my truck. If I get my truck, however, it’s worth it.
“Hello?”
“Carmelita, it’s Liam.”
“Liam who?”
Great. “Liam Sanderson. You tutor me in chemistry and calculus, and also that one time in history.”
“Hey. You had all your finals today, right?”
“Yeah, I need another favor, if you don’t mind.”
There’s a long pause.
“From me?”
I bite my tongue to keep from cursing. For the smartest person I know, she sure is clueless.
“I’m kinda in a time crunch. My truck was stolen and—”
“Have you called the cops?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I know who stole it. I just have to locate it and get it back. You’re the only person around I know who’s sober right now.”
“You’re drunk.”
I slap my forehead. Why did I call her? “No, I’m sober too, but I need a ride, and there’s no Ubers around right now.”
I swear, I could’ve had my cousin three hours away be here by now.
“Where are you?”
My shoulders lift with the hope of getting a ride. I glance around, realizing I’ve walked farther than I thought while talking to her. “War Eagle Way.”
“Stay there, and I’ll come get you.”
Before I can say thanks, she hangs up. I stare at my phone before returning it to my pocket.
Should I call the cops? I don’t want to have Bambi arrested or anything. I just want my dang truck back in the condition she found it. I sit on the curb and drop my head in my hands.
A breeze blows through, reminding me it’s December. I fold my arms into my chest. Between the mild weather we’re having and running like a maniac, I’m just now feeling the chill.
Of course, you wouldn’t know it’s December with the way most of the girls here are dressed. Except for the one rolling down her window.
Carmelita’s head pops out of her tiny red car. She’s wearing a thick weather-appropriate sweatshirt.
“Come on.”
I hop up and hurry to the passenger side. The inside of her car is super neat and clean, and I’d expect nothing less. She’s the type of person you’d expect to one day cure cancer or become president. We met last year in chemistry class. I was fortunate enough to have her as a lab partner.
She was the quiet chick in the back. I sat by her because she was hot. Smart choice on my part, as she’s also a genius. It’s super rare a girl is both. She’s like a unicorn or robot or something.
“Where did it go?”
I’m still so mesmerized at how clean her car is that her voice catches me off guard. “Oh, she headed toward the stadium. I’m afraid she’s leaving campus.”
“She?” Carmelita raises a brow.
I point toward the road, ignoring the comment. She drives toward the stadium, and we both look out our windows for the truck.
“Was she drunk?”
My stomach buckles. I hadn’t considered that possibility. Once inside the frat house, I lost track of her. She seemed sober enough when she tried to fight braided hair, but who knows? Maybe I should’ve called the cops?
“I’m pretty sure she was sober.”
“Pretty sure?” Carmelita raises a brow.
I squirm in my seat. It’s like I’m in one of those thriller movies where they pick you up for an innocent ride that turns into an interrogation.
“You should really call the cops.”
My hand tingles as I reach for my phone. The last thing I want is to send this gal to jail or put something on her record. I pull out my phone and take my time searching for the campus police number.
Carmelita already knows I’m not that smart, so maybe she thinks nothing suspicious about me taking forever. I’m about to hit the call button when she stops.
I glance out the windshield to find my truck pulled up to the Bo Jackson statue. I drop my phone and jump out. It’s still cranked, but I don’t see anyone in it.
There’s no trace of Bambi or anyone else. Very strange. I double check for anything that might be hers like a purse or something before walking back to Carmelita.
She rolls down the window and squints at my truck. “What happened?”
I shrug. “Beats me. But the truck looks fine. Like she left it here running.”
Carmelita frowns. “I’ll move back and wait to see if it’s drivable.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
Once she’s out of the way, I back up as if everything is normal. I hang my arm out the window and give her a thumbs-up. Then I drive my butt home before anything else crazy can happen.
Carmelita
I stand in front of my full-length mirror, holding a blazer in one hand and a blouse in the other. In a few hours, I’ll sign all the necessary paperwork for my first full-time job. Even better, it’s with the company I’ve interned for during my undergrad and master’s degrees. I settle on the blouse to go with my black skirt in an effort to look professional but not too anxious, then return the blazer to the back of my closet.
A suitcase falls when I reach toward the back. I swallow and push it against the wall. I still haven’t made up my mind about Christmas. Papa and Mama want me to go home, as I should. More than anything, I want to spend time with my grandparents. However, I don’t want the third degree from everyone about moving back to the island.
They all but kidnapped me when they flew in for my graduation. Now that I’m officially done with school, I have no official excuse for staying here. That is, until I start work full time.
I came halfway across the world to college for a reason, and I’m taking a job here for the same reason. No matter how much I love my family and Filipino traditions, I outgrew Oval Island long ago.
I shrug on the red blouse and button the front, then pull my dark hair over the neck. Sliding into my black heels, I lock up my room and stop in the kitchen for a bottle of water. As soon as I settle into my job, apartment hunting will be a priority. I’ve spent my entire college career in a shared living space.
My own bedroom and bathroom aren’t enough. I want my own kitchen, where I can cook dishes from back home without odd looks.
With my purse in one hand and my water in the other, I head for my car. The parking lot is almost bare, with most students gone home for the holidays by now. I have until the end of the month to move out, which shouldn’t be an issue. All of my belongings will fit in two carloads.
I climb in my car and smile at the excitement of a new apartment. Picking out furniture and new decor is something I’ve looked forward to for some time. Mama always dictated how I decorated at home, and for the most part, what I wore. One of my favorite things about America is all the freedom of choices. College was my first time making any choices for myself. That scared me at first, but I’ve grown to prefer it.
Traffic is light, and I make it to the Alabama Science Services building in a few minutes. I’d satisfied my parents with majoring in environmental engineering. They said that would help out the family business greatly. I smiled and said nothing, even though I had no intention of going back home after graduation. Only Lola, my grandmother, knows I’ve been offered a permanent position here.
I’ll eventually tell them all, but not today.
The building is sleek and metal to match the science and computer operations inside. I’ll be in the lab, which I prefer. A quiet space to figure things out on my own.
