Little Ms. Who?

By S Neff

Lee has been going through the same routine in his life. Seeing his friends find love has made him question his own choices, and when he meets Tris at the Friday night bonfire he is captivated at first sight. One kiss is all it takes for him to want her for his own, and after that night, he thinks he's found his Cinderella and his chance at love.
What Lee doesn't know is that some princesses have much bigger secrets than being covered in soot, and Tris’s secrets are going to redefine Lee and everything he thought he knew about himself. Love is never easy and Lee has to decide if he can love Tris even if he’s not who he says he is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Painted Hearts Publishing
• Release date: May 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781946379290

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Little Ms. Who?

S. Neff

Little Ms. Who?

Copyright © 2019 S Neff

Published by Painted Hearts Publishing

Smashwords Edition

About the eBook You Have Purchased

All rights reserved. Without reserving the rights under copyright, reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, is forbidden. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

Unauthorized reproduction of distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Little Ms. Who?

Copyright © 2018 S Neff

ISBN 10: 1-946379-29-8

ISBN 13: 978-1-946379-29-0

Publication Date: 5/23/2019

Author: S Neff

Proofing Editor: Kira Plotts

All cover art and logo copyright Painted Hearts Publishing ©2019

Cover Design by E Keith and S Neff

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

CHAPTER 1 – FRIDAY NIGHT

I turned the hard beat down on the truck stereo, the Colt Ford song still ringing through the afternoon air. Pulling into Big D’s house, I heard the welcome crunch of dirt under the HD 3500’s tires and the familiar complaining shouts of the old man from the cluttered air hangar. It was small in comparison to an industrial-sized aircraft hangar, but it was large enough to back the large, twenty feet-plus mud trucks in when we needed to. Or when Big D wasn’t parking them in the yard like he did everything he hoarded. I sighed roughly as I turned off the ignition and got out of my Chevy Silverado, my leather boots hitting the hard gravel with an audible crunch.

Big D halted his mindless bitching long enough to look up at me. His beard and hair hung down in thick, wavy masses that would put any middle-aged balding man to shame. Years of alcohol abuse had done quite a number on the older man, looking rough with his grey-tinged skin and thin, willowy body. Without the large wooden cane he always teetered on, a strong wind would probably knock the man to the ground. He wasn’t a gentleman, or even a nice man, but he was the closest thing I had to a family other than my brother and I found comfort and acceptance here at his home.

Ugh, you here to use more of my shit? the old cur barked out in his rough, age-worn voice.

Smiling at his insult, I entered the hangar without pause, going toward the large truck on blocks toward the back. I kept good distance of the old man’s cane—I’d been smacked with the thing a few times, especially when Big D was in a particularly bad mood.

Naw, D, I’m just here to work on the truck for a little while. Dalton around, or is he out with Jamie still? I asked while digging through the clusterfuck of tools spread out on the concrete and the surrounding wood tables. The place was truly the definition of a mess, and it was defined by the spider webs, dust, rust, and random shit spewed about everywhere. I loved it. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t let my own home or workspace get this way, but it was organized hoarding mess that made me feel…free.

Yeah, Big D responded, spitting some of his chewing tobacco out before continuing, he’s out with that whore.

Ignoring his bitching, I grabbed a worn-out-looking socket wrench and a socket to put on the end of it and then started loosening a bolt on the truck’s frame to get the tires back on for the next Mud Jams, only a few weeks away. I had my own shop, but Big D only wanted his projects worked on in his yard. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else, but I was friends with Dalton, and Big D had been close with my father when he was alive. I started releasing the bolts as the old man approached, sitting down wearily on one of the worn-out metal chairs that had long ago lost its cushion, a piece of wood balancing across it instead.

What about you, boy? When are you going to bring an ol’ lady around?

I shrugged, continuing my work without looking at the old man. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about getting a girl. Hell, all of the guys had gotten one. I was the only one on the outs at the moment and it was beginning to be a thorn in my side.

I haven’t seen a nice one yet. Don’t want to end up with anything less than what I’m lookin’ for, I drawled with some humor, smirking knowingly at the man behind me.

Ah, see you the smart one, Lee. Actually lookin’ for yourself an ol’ lady that ain’t a piece of worthless trash, he said with a loud hoot and a knock of his cane to the ground.

I just shook my head at the man’s antics. He was too old to argue with or change, so I’d let him say it how he wanted.

I reached to the upper deck of the truck and grabbed the screwdriver left on the floorboards by the gas pedal. It wasn’t a hard feat—being 6’6" I didn’t have much trouble reaching anything around me. Not hitting my head on door frames was a whole other story. Out of all of my friends, I was the largest, pushing two hundred seventy pounds. I was mostly muscle, but no matter what I did, I never seemed to be as defined in my abs as the slimmer guys. But, I guess you couldn’t change your body type and I was healthy in my size. They had reason to call me Large Lee.

Dalton’s whore is lingering around to get my shit when I die. I’m gonna make sure none of em’ get my shit! Gonna sell all of it before I let them greedy life-suckers get my crap, the old man grumbled from behind me as I worked mindlessly.

I ignored his rambling for the most part. It wasn’t something I hadn’t heard time and time again. Although, Big D had good reason to foresee his death. After his stroke two years ago, he’d lost a good portion of motor control on his left side and had large problems with eating. His days were surely numbered, but I didn’t like to think about not having the bastard around to nag everyone. It was good to have someone nag you every now and again.

I was about to respond to satisfy him when the sound of the property gate swinging open along with crunching dirt under truck tires made me stop. Dalton and his girl must be back from whatever they had gone off to do. Being Friday afternoon, I was surprised they came back. Usually, you wouldn’t expect to see those two until late Sunday night when work for Monday morning came calling.

Big D grumbled, or maybe it was more of a growl—it was hard to tell with the chew lodged firmly in his lower lip. I swallowed a gag at the thought of the vile shit. I’d tried it once when I was fourteen and had vomited across the front yard of Big D’s house, the old man laughing obscenely as he shouted that I was a pussy. My dad hadn’t found it quite as funny. I was grounded for a month when he found out I’d even tried the stuff.

I heard the telltale sound of a female’s derisive snort and Dalton’s low drawl apologizing for some misdeed—again. Setting my socket wrench down, I looked around for the nuts we had bought a few days ago to replace the old rusted ones with.

Hey, Dalton. Where are those nuts we bought yesterday for the truck? I said, not even looking up as I hunted through the endless crap piled on the nearest wooden workbench. Really, I didn’t mind the clutter, but sometimes it was a big fucking pain in my ass, especially when things went missing.

Dalton shrugged and started sifting through shit along the new pine tabletop. I don’t know, man. Last I saw them, they were sitting up here in the bag from Moore’s. You sure you didn’t move ‘em? he asked, trying to weave his large frame in between the old 67’ Corvette and a locker to get to another table. Dalton wasn’t small by any means—at 6’2" and two hundred thirty pounds, he was a big boy, a little softer around the middle than the other guys. He was known for his jovial and wild nature. There wasn’t anything Dalton wouldn’t do, and, put us together, it was sure to be a melee of fun or a disaster—either one was a win in our book.

Watching him shimmy into the cramped space as he looked for the bolts made me chuckle a snort of entertainment. Dude, do you really think they would be all the way over there? How the fuck would either of us put ‘em there?

He shook his head and chuckled with me. Who knows, man.

Dalton, are we still going over to Dougie’s tonight? Jamie interrupted, reminding me that she was even there. Corn-colored hair fell in curly waves down her bare shoulders, a Confederate flag tube top the only thing covering her torso while tight jeans hugged her curvy frame and camo boots adorned her feet. She was the cover shot to any stereotypical redneck magazine and it turned me off just as much as her bad temper and two-faced nature did.

Yeah, a lot of people are going out there tonight. Big bonfire and beer, Dalton replied and I had to admit the plan did have its merits.

Beer and bonfires: the two best things.

What about you, Lee? You in? Dalton asked while sorting through another pile of tools and trash in the far corner.

Nodding, I hummed my approval. Big D just snorted his dissatisfaction before rising. Not gonna do anything useful. Useless young people, he mumbled as he weeble-wobbled his way out of the hangar and up the worn path to the shabby trailer further up the property.

Ornery old man, I said, laughing. Let’s go get some beer. It’s going to be dark soon and I want to help build the mammoth bonfire Dougie likes to make. I patted him roughly on the shoulder, causing a grunt of surprise to pop out of him.

Dalton nodded and looked at his girl for confirmation.

Jamie shrugged, unconcerned, and headed back toward the trucks. It would take us a few hours to get some beer and food before we headed out to Dougie’s, and by then, the sun would be sinking at its normal 6 pm schedule. I was looking forward to relaxing by a good fire, and there was always a good number of people at Dougie’s house on a Friday night—and a whole hell of a lot of pretty girls.

I pulled up along Dalton’s old red 1986 Chevy pickup, my own newer, black pickup gleaming in the last rays of sunlight. I had to say my baby was looking good and there wasn’t anyone going to disparage my ebony beauty. Getting out of the cab, I headed around the back to get the beer from the metal cooler I kept back there for weekend drinks and food. Pulling out the twenty-four pack of Busch, I could see a lot of people had already started pulling into the large tree farm’s field, their cars parked in disarray around the clearing. There were probably already a good twenty people here, each bringing their own offering to the gathering. More than likely in the next hour or so the number would double, and then the party would really start.

Walking away from my truck, I found Dalton and Jamie close to the small bonfire, sipping on a beer while Jamie chatted openly with some other girls. Hey, I called out to Dalton over the music, holding up the beer. I brought more.

Hey, man, Dalton said, holding up his beer can in greeting.

I put the beers into the public cooler where everyone brought their party offerings for the night. It only took a few hours for the bonfire to rise into the sky and the bodies to accumulate around the clearing. Dougie—the party host—made his way into his own party, late, drunk, and stumbling about with a wide smile on his bearded face. I couldn’t help but shake my head at his crazy hooting and catcalls as he passed the girls dancing in truck beds. I had to give it to him, the female flesh was out in droves tonight. Tight shorts and cowboy boots were in high abundance, the music making them writhe around the fire like sensuous succubi looking for their next meal.

I leaned back against the wall of the shed, watching them all dance to the loud beat, and didn’t miss when Jamie hissed at Dalton when he looked too. I knew he wasn’t the type to stray—even if he was with a harpy. He just wasn’t that kind of man.

I’m going to go get another beer. You want one, Dalton? Jamie asked from beside her boyfriend. Dalton shook his head, waving his still full beer around. Naw, I’m good, babe. She shrugged dismissively before walking off toward the crowd of people and the long line of coolers.

Once she was gone, Dalton nudged me with his shoulder, nodding toward the mass of girls with a casual grin. You going to find one to take home tonight? he teased.

I shrugged, not really feeling any urge to play the same games to get these young girls’ attention. Most of them were coy creatures that knew their way around the bedroom and already had a taste of almost every dick present tonight. That didn’t really endear me to their advances or make me want to take them home. I’d had my fair share of sex, but I could keep the count of girls on one hand.

I’m good, man. That isn’t the kind of woman I’m looking for. I tipped my beer back and finished the last bit off before throwing it into the trash can beside me. It didn’t escape me that Jamie hadn’t offered to get me one.

Jamie was the kind of girl to lay with every available dick until she’d run out of options. For now, she was sticking around Dalton ‘til she lost interest. I had been with a few girls, but I wouldn’t lower my standards to the biggest slut of them all, and I still couldn’t figure out why Dalton had. He must really like her. A shiver of revulsion quaked through me. No amount of beauty made up for a rotten personality…absolutely no amount.

The next song came on with a jolt, the twang of the guitar rallying the crowd as they jumped into the happy cadence of lyrics. Eric Paslay sang his song Friday Night loud and clear through the speakers, lighting up the party-goers as someone raised the bass to a deafening boom. It was the perfect song for the night as we all yelled in tandem to the chorus, finding a singular voice along with the country singer.

With the words ringing through the crowd, I saw a flash of tan skin illuminated in the fire’s glow. Her hips swayed as she kept to the edge of the large group, being a part but also keeping her distance from the mass of feminine flesh tangling together by the fire. Tall, I noticed, probably six feet, long, dirty-blonde hair hanging in soft waves down her back, almost touching the swell of her ass.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

She was something…different…exotic compared to the other women that twisted around in abandonment. Unlike the others, her eyes weren’t glassy with too much alcohol, she just enjoyed the sound of the beat, her smile brighter than the fires glow.

I was moving toward her before I even knew what I was doing, going toward the tall beauty clad in a white cotton dress that shone brightly among all the denim and bare flesh around us. It didn’t take me long to reach her side.

The song ended and she turned around, coming face to face with me, bright green eyes shining up at me in the orange and red of the bonfire. I was mesmerized to the point of speechlessness this close up. I could see every detail that had evaded me from the shed wall—her soft, thick bottom lip, her sharp jawline and long slender neck, and straight angelic nose that made her look like nobility. At least it did to me; she looked like an angel standing there in her white cotton dress.

For a brief second, I thought I saw fear flash in her pale emerald orbs, but it was quickly chased away as a confused, almost apprehensive look covered it.

I reached my hand out, trying to engage in a friendly handshake to introduce myself. I could only hope she’d give me enough time to at least get my name out. Hi, I’m Lee, Lee Anderson. What’s your name? I had to project my voice to be heard over the thumping music, but a small smile formed on her full, pink lips, reassuring me.

Reaching out, she took my hand in a firm grip, rough calluses tickling against my palm. I couldn’t have been more happy about it—a girl who knew how to use her hands and wasn’t afraid to work was nothing to scoff at.

Hello, Lee, my name’s Tris…

Her voice was husky, and its cadence made my dick harden in my jeans. My legs locked and the hair on my arms stood on end, thinking about what it would sound like to have her scream my name as she…

Just Tris, she finished, jolting me out of my little fantasy.

Is my mouth shut? I hope I’m not panting like a dog in heat right now.

Well, Tris, would you like a beer? I had to concentrate so I didn’t stumble through the sentence. Just looking at her had me tongue-tied and my stomach was contracting with nerves. I hadn’t ever felt so unsure of myself around a woman before, and I hoped it didn’t show too obviously on my face.

Keep it together, Lee.

She looked away for a second, her eyes skittering to something before returning to mine. Yeah, I’d like that. Tris smiled, captivating me further with the sweet gesture and dimples that formed on her freckled cheeks. God, thank you for those beautiful dimples.

I got her that beer and we sat down away from the noise on one of the old flatbed trailers, her legs dangling to the ground, almost touching, while my boots fully touched the ground. Even though she was tall, I was a good seven inches taller. I loved how she didn’t make me feel like a colossal giant. Most of the other girls were small little things that barely came to my chest. It was different… she was different.

We spoke for a while, not bothering to return to the party. I told her about my business, working at the custom garage I owned with my brother, Beck. Tris asked me genuine questions about my work and I answered them honestly.

Did I love what I did? Yes, I loved it a whole hell of a lot.

Was I proud of the work I did? Yeah, and nothing would leave my shop if I wasn’t one hundred percent happy with it.

She was twenty-three, only a little younger than my twenty-seven years, and she’d just moved to Florida eight months earlier. I was feeling pretty lucky that she’d moved here at the moment.

We talked about her. How she loved it in South Florida. She loved the diversity in culture and how she could go to the city only a few miles away, buildings rising tall into the skies and the beaches endless, and then come out here to the country and hang around the bonfire and trucks.

There is a place for everyone here. I love that acceptance. Her husky voice was wistful as she looked at me shyly, her azure eyes peeking at me timidly. Tris’ slender hands smoothed down the cotton pleats of her dress, her cowboy boots swaying as she did so, a nervous gesture I found endearing.

Where were you before you moved here? I asked, tipping back my sixth beer of the night. I’d have to slow down if I didn’t want to get drunk and start blurting out how pretty she was. She licked her lips, gaze transfixed on my throat where my Adam’s apple bobbed from my gulp of beer.

I… I was from Texas, right outside of Austin, she finished with a whoosh of breath, lips parted.

Maybe I wasn’t the only one who’d had too much to drink.

Without too much thought—otherwise, I might have doubted the action—I reached forward and slipped her long hair behind her ear, giving me a better view of her face. Her green eyes widened and a ghost