White Trash Beautiful - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Teresa Mummert is the New York Times bestselling author of the White Trash series, the Honor series, Safe Word, and The Note. An army wife and mother, Teresa’s passion in life is writing. Born in Pennsylvania, she lived a small-town life before following her husband’s military career to Louisiana and Georgia. Visit her website at TeresaMummert.com.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

White Trash Beautiful

CHAPTER

One

I’M NOT NAÏVE. I know I don’t get the happily-ever-after. My knight in shining armor took the highway detour around this godforsaken shit hole. I’ve made peace with that. That doesn’t mean I’m going to lie down like a doormat and let every cocky prick in the trailer park have his way with me.

“I’ll be right there,” I snarled at Larry. He is the cook here at Aggie’s Diner, and he is also Aggie’s husband. His hair is long and greasy, hanging in thick, gray clumps around his weathered face. He is almost always a mean and nasty old man.

I turned back to my heavyset, middle-aged customer with a quick smile as he continued to leer at my chest. I slid the milk for his coffee across the table, making sure it tipped into his lap “accidentally.”

“I’m a waitress, not a whore,” I warned through gritted teeth. I tucked a strand of my dirty-blond hair (which some would call dark wheat) that had fallen loose from its ponytail behind my ear and gave a loud sigh. Cass Daniels was a lot of things, but not that.

It was always the same. Some guy pulls off the main highway and decides to try out a little local joint, maybe try his chances at getting lucky with a waitress. Some even took him up on it. But I wasn’t that kind of girl. Besides, I had a man of my own. My blond hair and blue eyes were nothing but a curse sometimes.

I made a beeline to the back, my empty tray held tightly between my fingers as I talked myself out of hitting Larry upside his damn head.

“I hit the bell five minutes ago, Cass,” he scolded. I ignored him as he went on and on as I put the hot plates onto my tray, burning my fingers. I rolled my eyes and walked back out to the floor as he continued, getting louder as I walked away.

“Don’t act like you’re the only one in the trailer park who can carry a plate of food. You ain’t nothin’ special!”

I slapped my tray down on table four with a little more force than I intended, biting back my tears. I didn’t need some low-rent cook in a run-down diner telling me I wasn’t worth a damn. I forced a smile at the elderly lady in front of me.

Her hand moved on top of mine as I placed her dish in front of her. It startled me, and I had to force myself not to pull back.

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not special,” she said in a hushed tone.

I smiled as a single tear escaped my eye and trailed down my cheek. I pulled my hand free and wiped it away quickly, looking at the dingy peach-colored walls to hide my crying. “Enjoy your meal.” My voice cracked with my words.

I turned quickly and made my way across the dining room and out the back entrance marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. I pulled my pack of cigarettes from my apron and stared at the box while I walked to the corner of the building. I hadn’t had one for four days, but I couldn’t force myself to throw the pack away.

I stared off at the trailers that were on the other side of the parking lot. A tattered fence lined the area with an array of signs that read KEEP OUT. I snorted.

No one went in there unless the person had no choice. The fence just kept us away from the people who mattered.

I held the lighter to the end of my cigarette and closed my eyes as I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with the delicious smoke.

“That’ll kill ya, you know,” a deep voice called from in front of me. My eyes shot open. A man in worn-out dark-wash jeans and a formfitting, dark-gray T-shirt that read I’M WITH THE BAND stood in front of me, motorcycle helmet in hand. His head was cocked to the side, and a half grin played across his lips. His hair was dark brown and unruly, but something told me he took time to make it look so effortlessly disheveled. His arms had elaborate tattoos to the wrists, and his blue eyes were bright in the sun. This was the guy your mama would warn you about—if your mama wasn’t too high to function. He stood at least a foot taller than my own five foot three. I guessed he was near my age of twenty-three, or maybe a couple of years older.

“Not fast enough.” I rolled my eyes and took another drag. He laughed as he ran his fingers over his hair from back to front and nodded, then turned to walk to the front door of the diner. He stopped for a moment, his back to me as if he had something to say, but didn’t. He opened the door and disappeared inside instead without a backward glance.

At least my shitty life was entertainment for someone else. I held my cigarette sideways, glaring down at it before flicking it off into the dirt of the parking lot. I stood and straightened my apron, wiping the now-drying tears from my face, and went back to work.

Mr. Dark and Dangerous was sitting in a booth in my section and I cursed under my breath. I was a magnet for bad boys; only in my world, it meant beatings and heartbreak.

“Welcome to Aggie’s Diner. My name is Cass and I’ll be your waitress. Can I start you off with something to drink?” I slapped a menu down in front of him. I did my best to smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. It never did. I raked my eyes over the tattoos that crawled out from under his T-shirt sleeves in intricate, swirling patterns.

“Tucker White.” He grinned. That smile must get him whatever he wanted.

My eyes snapped back to his. “Do you want something to drink, Tucker White?” I tried not to sound impatient. I didn’t want to exchange witty banter with some hot guy fresh off the highway. I wanted to go home and take a hot shower, if we even had hot water. This job barely paid the bills, and with my mom’s mouth to feed, we could hardly afford luxuries such as water, let alone solid meals or cable.

“I’ll have a beer, sweetheart. Whatever you recommend.” His smile didn’t waver.

I glanced around the diner and back to him. I was sure he could read the Are you fucking kidding me? look on my face. This wasn’t the place for exotic delicacies or fancy beers. “I’m not your sweetheart.”

“Challenge accepted.” He laughed.

These guys were all the same. I sighed. “I’ll grab you a Bud.” I turned on my heel and made my way into the back to grab him a beer out of the fridge.

“Cass, what are you doing with my beer?” Larry called from behind the cook line.

“It’s for a customer,” I called over my shoulder. “I’ll pay you back when he settles the check.” I pushed through the kitchen doors and got away from Larry before he could start screaming again.

I set the bottle down in front of Tucker and wiped the condensation on my hand onto my apron.

“Thanks.” He winked and twisted the top off the bottle. He tipped it up to his lips and began to drink, his eyes still locked on me.

I grabbed my pen and order pad from my apron pocket and waited for him to finish his drink. “Have you decided on what you want?” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I had been on them for seven hours now and they ached.

“Oh, yeah.” His eyes slowly trailed down my body as his tongue flicked out over his lips, wetting them. “Burger and fries.” He set his bottle down on the table and spun it in his fingers. His cell phone rang and he rolled his eyes, picking it up to answer...