The Love at First Sight Box Set

by Romance, Smartypants

  His eyes searched my face and he tugged me closer. "C'mere."

  I burrowed into his warmth, rubbing my forehead into the side of his neck, like a kitten might've. There was just so much of him. I was surrounded. So easily overpowered, if he'd wanted. But he wouldn't. Not ever. Tucker wrapped his arms around me and sighed as he rubbed circles on my back.

  "Relief is only one tiny part of it, Grace," he murmured into my hair.

  "Tell me." In my head, it was a politely spoken request, but it came out as a demand. One that made him chuckle.

  "Only a few of the things I'm feeling right now are appropriate to say out loud, Pretty Girl."

  Tell me about it, I thought as I filled my lungs with his addictive scent. The things I was feeling—surrounded by him—involved things like rings and weddings and babies and happily ever after and fate. A crystal-clear snapshot of what I wanted life to be like with him, watching sunsets and smelling mountain air while we drank coffee side by side. Absolutely nothing I could admit to him.

  The flip side of the coin was dirtier, to be sure. It was the side of me that wanted to rip his shirt off with my teeth and sink the sharp edges of my fingernails into the hot flesh that he was hiding from me. The side of that wanted him to shamelessly display how strong he was by tossing me onto the bed, turning with me rough hands and whispered words into whatever position he desired. Wanted to play out a few choice scenarios to see if this love curse thing also translated to life-altering sex.

  Goodbye, tepid, you no longer have a place in my universe.

  "I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He tightened his hold on me, and I had to close my eyes at how good, how so very good it felt. When weighted blankets became the biggest it thing, I'd rolled my eyes at the thought of someone who'd pay two hundred dollars to be pinned into place.

  But I got it now. Bracketed with muscles and bone like his, wide as a tree trunk and strong as an ox, I could've slept like that for two days straight.

  Lifting my chin a touch, I pressed my lips against the place where his pulse thundered steadily. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine that rush of blood screaming my name as it raced through his veins, just like my body seemed to be calling his.

  Buh-boom.

  Buh-boom.

  Buh-boom.

  Tucker.

  Tucker.

  Tucker.

  I nuzzled my face up and found his lips again, suddenly desperate for the way he devoured me with his kiss. He breathed me in, moving into a perfect lift and nudge underneath me while his tongue licked into my mouth.

  Sweat dotted the back of my neck as the kiss got deeper, hotter, wetter, dirtier. All I needed was this kiss, and I could live forever. A drop of perspiration slid down my spine when his hands dug shamelessly into the back of my shorts and helped move me against him with hard fingers against soft skin.

  My entire body tightened as I moved over top of him, my hips restless, my breasts heavy and aching.

  The world spun when Tucker lifted, turning me so my back was on the couch and he had me pinned into the cushions with the full weight of his body.

  "Yes," I hissed, arching up, my knees tucked against his side as he did some hip-rolling of his own.

  I was ready, so ready, that a single touch of his hand in any number of places on my body would trigger the explosion that would fling me up into the stratosphere.

  "I knew it would be like this," he groaned against my mouth, his hands searching and holding and gripping any part of me he could find.

  I whimpered when he shoved his hand underneath my shirt and traced the edge of my lace bra.

  "So did I," I admitted, my chin tilting up to the ceiling and breathing unsteadily through the feelings taking control of my body. They were raw and jagged and dangerous, the high that a junkie craves, that an addict would sell their soul for. And we were still clothed, for shit's sake. If I got this man naked over me, I might actually die from pleasure. "I imagined you just like this," I said after I bit down on his lip. "Over me, holding me down inside your truck while you moved between my legs. The very first day, I saw it in my head, and I hated you for it."

  Tucker hissed through gritted teeth, eyes black in his face, a wild flush on his cheeks as he stared down at me with an expression that couldn't be described as anything other than worshipful, decadent, insane with desire. Dirty as all hell.

  His mouth opened, and my breath caught with anticipation of what he'd say.

  That's when the door opened. "Saw your light on, sweetpea—" Aunt Fran slapped a hand over her eyes when she saw what was happening on my couch. "Oh, my good heavens, oh my gosh," Aunt Fran mumbled. "I'm so sorry, Grace and …"

  Tucker flew off me to the opposite side of the couch and I struggled to sit up and tug my shirt into place.

  My aunt dropped her hands and pinned Tucker with an incredulous stare. "Tucker Haywood, what in sweet merciful heaven are you doing here?"

  Her mom voice was fully activated, and it caused any desire pulsing through my body to shrivel up and die.

  "Well, ma'am," he started, standing from the couch with a wince, hands cupped over his impressive display, "I came to see Grace."

  I stifled a hysterical giggle as it crawled up my throat.

  "I know that," she said calmly, "but if you're running around on that girlfriend, you've got no place thinking about my niece. I never pegged you as a man who'd disrespect two good women like that."

  Oh. Right.

  Tucker's face smoothed out into a placid mask. No hands were required to hide anything anymore, because if there was anything that could kill a good dry-humping session, it was someone mentioning his recent ex.

  "Magnolia and I are no longer seeing each other, Mrs. Buchanan." His chin lifted. "Not that I need to defend my actions, but I'd hope you know me well enough to know that I'd never touch your niece if I weren't available to do so."

  I pulled my legs up to my chest and hid my burgeoning smile into my knees. I loved the way he spoke, loved the way it sounded in his accent. There was an old-fashioned quality to the way he chose his words, and that made me want to rip his clothes off all over again.

  Until my aunt caught sight of my expression. "Do we need to talk about safe sex, young lady?"

  Smile gone. "Nope. I'm … we're good. I'm good."

  Aunt Fran turned to Tucker and sighed. "Well, I'm certainly sorry I interrupted, because I won't get that picture out of my head for the rest of my life, to be sure." She rubbed her forehead. "I don't even remember why I came out here now. Lord, I'm losing my mind."

  Tucker smiled at me. "I should go anyway. I've got an early day tomorrow."

  I'll admit it, I pouted. And when he saw my lower lip push out, his grin spread until the skin around his eyes crinkled into handsome lines.

  "Don't let me run you off," Aunt Fran said. "I can make myself scarce."

  "It's fine, Mrs. Buchanan." He leaned over me and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

  I nodded up at him.

  It was too easy to imagine, based on his facial expression, that I was a living heart-eye emoji. I'd turned into a human swoon. I wanted nothing more than to hear him call me Angry Girl, or Pretty Girl, or any other variation he could come up with based on my mood.

  "Night," he said, winking as he straightened.

  "G'night, Tucker," Aunt Fran said as he left. Before she could turn around and face me, I covered my face with a throw pillow until I felt her sit next to me. Her hand tugged on the corner of the pillow, and she chuckled at whatever she saw on my face. "It takes a lot to surprise me, Grace Bailey."

  I sighed. "I know."

  "I thought you hated him?"

  "I did." I shrugged. "And then I didn't."

  She gave me a considering look. "Did you forget how to work a lock on the door when you stopped hating him?"

  I laughed. "Sorry about that. I wasn't … expecting company."

  "So he broke up with Magnolia MacIntyre … for you." It wasn't a
question. Because she saw the answer clear as day, as he had me squirming restlessly underneath him on the couch when she walked in. Two minutes later, and she would've probably seen much, much more of both of us.

  I nodded slowly. "Seems so."

  Aunt Fran whistled. "And that made you not hate him anymore?"

  "No." I sighed, playing with the edge of the pillows. "I not-hated him before he broke up with her. He wasn't aware of it though."

  "What happened?"

  "The curse happened."

  Her face went blank with shock. "But you … you hated him. I saw it."

  I slung an arm over her shoulder. "Aunt Fran, prepare to have your mind blown, because we've got ourselves a sexist curse in this family."

  Chapter 43

  Tucker

  It seemed lately that my life worked only because of a checks and balances system. A scale, just like the one that Lady Justice held, now dictated my personal life, like it had dictated my professional one. You relieve weight from one side, and the other will sink. Add weight to balance it, and the scales evened out.

  I met the most fascinating woman I'd ever met in my entire life, except I had a serious girlfriend.

  I no longer had a girlfriend, but my job imploded because of that, thereby trapping me into a strange limbo where I couldn't admit that I was with the new fascinating woman.

  That's how it had been since I broke up with Magnolia, I thought, rubbing my sleep-deprived eyes. Trying to figure out a way to keep the scales balanced, keep them afloat.

  When I got to work that morning, it was with a smile on my face and a bounce in my step. Enough that my mom smiled in return behind her desk. "Well goodness, what's got you in such a good mood?"

  I kissed her on the cheek. "It's a beautiful day, Momma. That's all."

  Her eyes held a tinge of worry at my mood, but she didn't question it as I passed through the waiting room and into my office.

  They knew I broke up with Magnolia, but not about Grace. If Francine's reaction the night before was any indication, or Grace's for that matter, this was a transition that needed to be handled with tact and consideration.

  Sitting at my desk, staring up at the map on the ceiling, I closed my eyes and conjured Grace's face when she told me she didn't want to be a rebound. I had to rub a hand over my heart, because it did strange flips in my chest when I thought about it. The thought of her eyes when she admitted that, of her kiss, her body underneath mine, the way I couldn't move my hands hard enough or touch enough of her skin, the way I wanted to wrap myself around her and stay just like that the whole night.

  There it was again, the uneven chugging of my heart.

  Not a heart attack.

  Not a stroke.

  It was quite possible, that for the first time, I was love-sick.

  When I pulled out my phone to send her a text, I found one waiting for me, and I couldn't stop the pleased puff of my chest when I read her words.

  Angry Girl: I've been lying in bed all morning, thinking about what I'd do to you if you were here with me. Thinking about the way you kissed me.

  Angry Girl: You've made me into a cliche, and I'm kinda mad at you about it.

  Rapping my thumb against the edge of my phone, I thought about what I wanted to say in return. That even with a cold shower, I hadn't been able to dull the physical ache that tortured me all night. That I dreamt of her, climbing over me with sleek, naked skin and wild golden hair, where she rode me until we were both soaked in sweat and exhausted from pleasure. That I missed her to a degree that should have scared me, but didn't.

  Me: Is it strange that you being mad turns me on?

  Angry Girl: LOL. Not considering my crazy the day we met. Gawd, was that really less than a week ago?

  Me: Big things happen fast, Pretty Girl.

  Angry Girl: I can attest to THAT, mister. I was on top of that big thing.

  Me: Careful now, I've got a meeting in 20, and my great Aunt Belle is NOT someone I need seeing me with a hard-on, okay? She'll write me into one of her dirty poems.

  Angry Girl: Oh buddy, I'd be able to take care of that problem in a lot less than 20.

  "I'm glad one of us is smiling," my dad said as he strolled into my office. His face reminded me of a thundercloud.

  I tossed my phone into the top drawer of my desk, lest he accidentally see what was on the screen. "What's wrong?"

  He sat in the chair opposite of me and sank down. "That jackass Julius won in court today."

  "Which case?"

  "The Canterbury divorce."

  I grimaced. "Sorry, Dad. You spent a lot of time on that one."

  "If only apologies could win us a ruling." He rubbed his forehead, looking as old as I'd ever seen him. "That's the third one in a row, son. As if I didn't have enough on my plate with J.T. hissing and spitting in my direction."

  I sighed. "He's just cross with me."

  "He sure is," he agreed. "But it still affects me and your mother."

  Silence cloaked the space between us while I tried to think of what to say. I couldn't apologize for breaking up with Maggie, because even without Grace, it was the right thing to do. But that one man, irrational as he might have been about securing his daughter's happiness, was the key to a hefty portion of our income.

  Without the retainers that he paid, his wife's business paid, his in-laws paid, we'd lose about fifty percent of our steadiest income. It was the kind of loss that would cripple a small practice like ours. Because of me.

  It was the kind of thing that made my skin crawl, knowing that I bore that responsibility.

  Like I could hear them fall into place, a few more rocks settled onto the work side of the scale, and the carefully held balance swayed dangerously.

  "I know it does, Dad," I said wearily. In the drawer, I could hear a text come through on my phone, the buzzing sound as much of a temptation as Grace was herself. Craving her words like this, even as my father sat and bore the weight of my decisions, was something I needed to keep in check. "If he keeps blustering, I'll talk to him. Or talk to Magnolia. She was surprised, but she wasn't angry at me. I know her well enough that she'd never ask her daddy to ruin our business out of spite."

  "She's a good girl," my dad agreed. "Not the one for you, I can see that clear enough, but you're right. She'd never wish revenge on you."

  My head lifted in surprise. "You knew she wasn't right for me?"

  He snorted. "Of course. You don't deal with people as long as I have without being able to read them like a first grade picture book."

  The irony that he couldn't see how miserable I was in this job was not lost on me, but I kept my mouth shut as he kept talking.

  "Magnolia is smart and driven, pretty as a picture, but her daddy has spoiled her rotten her whole life. And Bobby Jo,” his voice trailed off as he thought about Maggie’s mother. “She let him, because it takes too much effort to stop J.T. from doing what he wants." He shifted in the chair and got a faraway look in his eye, probably rifling through the years that she and I spent together, just as I'd done when I drove to her apartment to end things. "I think the two of you were sweet on each other when you first started dating, but you never mooned the way a young couple in love should. It's like each of you checked off certain boxes that the other was looking for, and so you just stayed where you were because there was no reason not to. But that's no way to start off a life, son."

  The truth of what he said clanged like a bell, and I couldn't argue with a single part of it. "I know. It took me too long to see it. Or be willing to admit it, at least."

  As he stood from the chair, he looked older than his fifty-five years. His hip creaked when he took his first step, even the wrinkles on his face seemed more pronounced than they had even a week ago. Some people looked young for their age, but my dad wasn't one of them.

  The product of not enough exercise, too much time trapped behind a desk, not enough water during the day. Too much coffee in the mornings and whiskey at night. The eating habi
ts of a college student and way too many hours working. My mom still managed to look ten years younger than her fifty-two, but as I watched my dad leave my office, I would've sworn he was approaching seventy.

  Stress. That's what aged him faster than any of his unhealthy habits.

  I thought about my dad's stress, and whether that same fate was waiting for me if I stayed behind this desk at Haywood and Haywood, staring up the map painted on the ceiling. My next appointment, my great aunt Belle, barely registered, even though she was a unique case—wanting help with the process of copyrighting her erotic poetry so 'that snake down at the book club wouldn't steal it.’

  As she marched out of my office, freshly motivated for more verses about pulsing members and turgid skin that she'd be able to legally claim, I tried to move past that interaction with my dad.

  Tried to ignore the ramifications of what it meant, if J.T. really did change legal representation because of what I'd done.

  But nothing worked for the rest of the day, until I arrived at the community center for another fair planning meeting.

  When I pulled my truck into a spot by the building, I leaned my head back and sighed heavily, desperately hoping that Grace would arrive soon so I could steal a moment with her before sitting in front of the probing eyes of all the women around that table. My phone showed no text from her since that last one, the one she'd sent me when my cell was safely tucked away into my desk drawer, but I read it again to kill time.

  Angry Girl: Now all I'll be able to think about at the meeting is what I could do to you in that amount of time. If you see me licking my lips … you know why.

  I groaned. She was as dangerous as a grenade with the pin pulled. And I was the one who pulled it with eyes wide open, heedless of where it exploded.

  A car pulled up next to me, and I sat up when I realized it was Fran and Grace. Francine nodded at me, a twinkle in her eye that had not been present the night before. I smiled, getting out of my truck as Grace exited the car and jogged in my direction.