The Last Virgin in Texas

by Jennifer Woodhull

  He puts his hand on top of mine as I slowly pour the milk.

  “Slow. Gentle. Like this, right?” He’s guiding my hand now, making it hard to concentrate.

  “Uh-huh. And once it gets going, then you can crank it up…go a little faster.” I slide the switch forward and the paddle speeds up.

  As the last of the milk splashes into the bowl, I put the empty vessel on the counter. Tucker’s palm moves to my shoulder.

  “What’s next?” He asks as he leans in a little closer.

  “You cover the top with the dishtowel, like this. Then, just…,” I turn my face to the side and can barely breathe as I look up into his impossibly handsome face. “Let it go.”

  I turn and press my hands to the edge of the counter behind me as I push back against it. My gaze moves from his dark, hungry eyes to his subtle grin. My tongue darts out, wetting my impossibly parched lips.

  His hands slide together against the countertop until his palms are behind me, then he moves them to a spot that’s low on my back. I can’t control my hands as they move to slide up that perfectly muscular chest, across his shoulders, and lock around the back of his neck.

  What are you doing? You can’t kiss him.

  He moves closer.

  Stop. Say something. Don’t kiss him.

  His head dips forward and I draw in a deep breath. I tip my head back. Being with him, feeling his arms around me is so natural. It’s almost like muscle memory.

  You hate him. You don’t want to kiss him.

  I’m a liar, though. I want to hate him, but I can’t. Not when he’s looking at me like this. I want this feeling. I want it all.

  “I missed you, Gretchen.” I feel the whisper against my lips as he closes the distance.

  This is a mistake.

  He’s going to hurt me again.

  He’s going to break me apart.

  Or maybe he won’t. Maybe this is the inevitable end to what we started all those years ago.

  I nod, my eyes locked on his. He pulls me tighter, flush against his body. As my lids fall shut, I feel his lips brush against mine. He’s tentative at first then the warmth intensifies as his lips press harder, then part. I feel his tongue dart out, sliding along the seam. His fingers tense, pressing my flesh, urging me closer as my lips part and his tongue glances against mine.

  His hands slide down, grabbing my ass as I weaken against him, my pulse racing, my body alight from head to toe as his kiss consumes me.

  He has definitely learned a thing or two since the last time we kissed.

  His hands slide down, his broad palms cupping my ass lower and he lifts me to the edge of the prep table. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer, grinding shamelessly against him.

  He pulls his lips back briefly, scanning my face, then he lets out a soft, guttural groan as he crashes his mouth down on mine again.

  I’m a goner.

  Any ideas I had that I was over Tucker Kane, or that I could resist him were complete fantasy. I’m buzzing, completely high from his kiss.

  As we tangle together, caught up in how spectacular this feels, we hear a thump, thump, thump.

  When I pull my lips away, he moves to my jaw, then to my neck. I pull myself together and put my palms against his chest, pushing us apart. I look over to see the mixer is off-balance; the bowl shimmying from side-to-side.

  Shit.

  “Tucker, stop. The dough…the pies.” I look at my watch and quickly see that we’re way behind. “We gotta get the baking finished before everyone gets here.” I stretch to flip off the mixer.

  Tucker grazes his lips against my cheek and then my jaw, heading back toward my mouth.

  “Fuck the baking.” He leans forward, and I put my palms out to stop him.

  “Tucker! We’re gonna have half the town here lookin’ for pies in no time.”

  He quirks his lips up at one side. “I’m pretty interested in your pie myself.”

  I roll my eyes and try to hold in a laugh as I push him away and slide off the table. I straighten my apron, wash my hands, and return to the pie filling.

  “Get your ass back on the dough, mister.” I nod toward the mixer.

  “Yes ma’am. Whatever you say.” He walks over to the sink and I catch him adjusting himself before he washes his hands.

  What the hell just happened?

  One minute, I was strong, resolved, impervious to the charms of the hometown boy-turned-movie star. The next minute, I’m a weak-willed, dry-humping puddle of feels. Ugh!

  I keep my distance as I talk him through the rest of the instructions for his share of the baking. Now that I’ve had a taste of what he has to offer, it’s going to take something a lot more powerful than a mixer to save me from myself.

  Sixteen

  My Mama is a cunning woman. She knew exactly what she was doing when she had me come volunteer for this evening’s event. She’s practically stomping as she comes down the hall to the rec center kitchen.

  “It’s me-e! Gretchen? Tucker? You two back here?” Mama calls out an unreasonably loud sing-song greeting, as if she might walk in on something if she doesn’t make her presence known.

  Come to think of it, a little while ago, she might’ve, at that.

  I didn’t expect it to go like that. I thought if I kept on, trying to get her to talk to me, Gretchen might go out with me—talk about what happened back then. When she started showing me how to bake, though, I could feel a shift. She was standing so close. I tried not to touch her, not to reach and put my hands on her, but I couldn’t help myself.

  When she turned to face me and she wrapped her arms around my neck, I knew she wanted it as much as I did. And I wanted it. Bad. I felt just like I did all those years ago, with her in my arms. Happy. Hopeful. Before I knew it, we were holding each other, my mouth on hers, her taking everything I was giving and definitely wanting more. She tasted like the sugar that’s all around us in this kitchen. When I pulled her closer, my tongue sliding past her lips, she was grinding against me, and I was hard as steel.

  So now, I know. Whatever made her pull away all those years ago, she’s not feeling that now. She wants me. More than that, though, I know I want her too. The unfinished business we had, what I’ve been feeling lately…I think I know just how to get over it. Gretchen in my arms felt like everything that has been missing in my life lately, all wrapped up in a big, fat, fucking bow. Holding her makes everything right in my world. I want, no, I need more.

  “Tucker, take this bag, hon.” Mama hands me a big paper shopping bag.

  “Got it, Mama.” I kiss her on the cheek and take the bag.

  “Those are the pie boxes, Gretchen. And here are the other donations.” She hands Gretchen another bag which contains a stack of envelopes, each holding a donation from one of the other businesses in town.

  “Thanks, Mrs. K. I did a dozen of the cherry. I thought we could serve half, and auction half. Then I did a half dozen apple as well.” She nods toward the counter where the pies are cooling.

  “Did my boy help at all?” Mama casts a glance over her shoulder at me.

  “He did, actually.” Gretchen looks up at me. Her cheeks turn pink and the sight makes my heart thunder in my chest. “He was very, um, helpful.”

  “Well, now you’ve got another set of hands. What do we have left to do?” Mama follows Gretchen over to the counter and we box up the pies that are being auctioned off. I carry them out to the auction table and Gretchen brings the envelopes.

  Mama heads over to greet the other campaign chairs and volunteers as Gretchen and I put the finishing touches on the table. I stack up the pies while she puts out all the envelopes with gift certificates for the barbecue joint, the hairdresser, the local lawn mowing service, and the hardware store.

  As she lines up all the prizes, I whisper to her. “Whaddya say we hang out when this thing is over?”

  “No way,” she whisper-yells back. “I can’t let what just happened happen again. Besides, we’ve got the d
inner, then the auction. The Pork Shack is bringin’ the dinner. They’ll be here any minute.”

  “Come out with me tomorrow. We’ll go get dinner somewhere out of town where we can have some privacy and talk.” I look at her under my brows. “You can’t deny we still got things to talk about.”

  She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms across her chest. “Let me think about it. No promises.”

  I’ll take it.

  We finish setting up, and before long, everyone is sitting down to a barbecue dinner. I am lucky enough to score a seat at the table with Mama and Gretchen, so I wedge myself between them.

  As we finish off the main course and they pass around slices of Gretchen’s famous cherry pie, Maisie’s mom and Jared’s mom both come around taking up tickets.

  “Well, if it isn’t one of my two favorite stars.” Mrs. Berringer puts her hand on my shoulder, and I stand, wrapping her up in a hug.

  “Hi, Mrs. B. Don’t you look prettier than ever.” I kiss her cheek with a smack, then hug Mrs. Dawson. “You too, Mrs. Dawson. Good seein’ you. I saw Maisie already since I been back. Seems like she’s doing well.”

  Mrs. Dawson looks from me to Gretchen and back.

  “Good seein’ you, Tucker. Aren’t you lookin’…,

  she squeezes the top of my arm and raises her brow at the muscle she finds there. “Healthy.”

  “Son, did you get a ticket?” Mrs. Berringer asks.

  “I’m afraid not. How much are they?” I pull my wallet from my pocket and open it, pulling out a few bills.

  She eyes the wad of twenties that has a couple of hundreds mixed in. “That’ll do it.” She grabs the cash and deposits it in the basket Mrs. Dawson is holding. “And we’re gonna need a donation, too, so think about what you want to give for an auction item.” She winks at me and they make their way to the next table to shake down more victims of their charitable interests.

  I sit down, and it occurs to me what I can auction off.

  “Mama,” I lean toward her. “Call me up before you open up the auction. I got an idea that might raise some money.”

  “You got it. Thank you, sweetie.” She kisses me on the cheek.

  I pull out my phone to text Jared.

  ME: Hey dickhead. There’s a charity auction tonight. I’m putting a dinner date with you on the auction block.

  JARED: Thanks, asshole. Happy to do it. Just make sure the winner is hot.

  Mama gets up and opens up the auction portion of the evening. The items on the table in the back are part of the silent auction, and a few, big-ticket items remain.

  “Now, before we start the bidding, my son Tucker has something to add to the donation pool. Tucker, you wanna come on up, honey?”

  I get mostly polite applause with a few whispers thrown in and one highly inappropriate wolf whistle which I’m pretty sure came from Etta Landry, who is ninety years old if she’s a day, and on an oxygen tank.

  “Thanks, ya’ll. I appreciate that warm welcome home. I was just talking to Jared Berringer, y’all know Jared.” I hold up my phone for emphasis. “He’d like to donate a dinner date with him for one lucky winner.”

  This meets with lots of oohs and ahhs. He is the one with the boy-next-door persona in the press, after all.

  “Of course, that will be a dinner for three so the winner can bring a chaperone. We don’t want to have anyone get the wrong idea about Jared.” I wriggle my eyebrows and the crowd laughs.

  “As for myself, I figure you might rather have something worth a little more than dinner. I’ve been really fortunate to have a great career since I moved away a few years ago. I’m lucky enough to have a vacation home with a beautiful view of the ocean. Unfortunately, my shooting schedule the next few months means I won’t have time to enjoy it. So, I’d like to offer two weeks at my place on the beach near Galveston.”

  The crowd goes nuts, clapping and chatting.

  “I promise, I’ll get the fridge stocked up for you, and the liquor cabinet. I’ll even throw in a gift card for Rudy & Paco down at the beach so you can have a nice dinner out. So let’s raise some money for these kids, okay? Thanks, ya’ll.” I raise my palm and leave the little stage to far more applause than I got when I walked up there.

  “Aren’t you Mr. generous?” Gretchen teases as I take my place at the table next to her.

  “What good is having money if you can’t help people out who haven’t been as lucky as you?” I shrug.

  “Good point. I liked your idea, too.” She narrows her eyes, then stands and walks up to the stage, getting Mama’s attention.

  Mama steps away from the microphone and leans down while Gretchen whispers something to her. Mama nods, then narrows her eyes at me for a moment, then goes back to the podium as Gretchen retakes her seat.

  “We have one more last-minute donation.” Mama smiles down at Gretchen. “Besides the delicious pies you’re all eating now and those you bid on in the silent auction, Gretchen Weber would like to offer up a home-cooked meal, made by her. Everybody knows she’s one of the best cooks in town. Now, ain’t that sweet of her?”

  Everyone applauds, me included. Gretchen looks around, smiling.

  “So,” I lean in close enough so only she can hear. “You won’t go to dinner with me, but you’ll cook dinner for some stranger?”

  She turns and looks at me squarely. “These aren’t strangers, Tucker. These are folks I’ve known my whole life. If anybody here is a stranger these days, it’s you.”

  Damn, that was cold.

  “That right?”

  “Mm-hm. Matter of fact it is.” She crosses her arms and turns her attention back to Mama and the auction.

  They announce the winners of the silent auction, then go about auctioning off the big-ticket items. Someone pays six hundred dollars for a pre-owned Gator complete with a radio and a winch on the back. A hand-made canoe goes for seven-fifty. After the smaller items are spoken for, Mama gestures to our table.

  “Up next, we have dinner, home cooked by Gretchen Weber. Who’ll start the bidding at fifty dollars?”

  Several hands go up and Mama goes through fifty dollars, sixty, then seventy. To my frustration, Dillon Parks stands up. “I’ll bid two hundred dollars.”

  The crowd responds with hushed whispers and glances between Dillon and Gretchen. Mama looks back at our table. “Well, now, that’s a generous bid. Thank you, Dillon. Going once…going twice…”

  I stand and put my palm up. “Mama let’s wrap this up so we can move on to the next item.”

  “You got a bid for us, son?” She cocks her eyebrow up at me.

  “I’ll bid ten.”

  “Honey, the bid is two hundred. Math was never his strong suit, ya’ll.” She says to the crowd eliciting a hearty laugh from everyone.

  I clutch my chest, feigning hurt at her comment and flash my most charming smile to the crowd.

  “Sorry, Mama. I meant ten thousand. I bid ten thousand dollars,” I turn and look down at Gretchen. “For dinner with Gretchen Weber.”

  She crosses her arms in a huff, purses her lips, her cheeks turning bright red and it’s so damn cute I can hardly stand it.

  “Well, then!” She bangs her gavel. “I think we can safely say that you win. Congratulations, son.”

  She moves on to auction off dinner with Jared, which I’m sure he’ll make me pay for, but I don’t even care. Then she auctions off the time at my beach house, which Gretchen’s aunt bids on and wins. As I sit down, Gretchen leans toward me, her words spewing through gritted teeth.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “What?! It’s a good cause. I was a scout myself, ya know. Besides. You wouldn’t say yes to dinner. Now you have to have dinner with me.” I flash her a smile and she slumps back in her chair, turning away from me in a huff.

  I think I see a little smile at the corner of her lips, though.

  Her full, sweet, delicious lips.

  I plan to taste those lips again, and I don’t care if it costs me
ten thousand or a million dollars to do it.

  Seventeen

  My Mama always says that if you want a dish to come out perfect, you can’t try to cook it while you’re mad.

  If that’s the case, these carrots are doomed. The meatloaf may not fare much better.

  Mr. Smug Hollywood Star thinks he can just stroll into town, all handsome and sexy, and kiss people just because they want him to. Hmpf.

  Well, he’s the one who put it out there. When he put a date with Jared up for auction, he said there would be a chaperone, so I’ve got a couple of chaperones of my own tonight.

  I’m stirring the bacon pieces into the green beans when the kitchen door opens.

  “We’re here. Still don’t think we should be, but we are.” Maisie leans down and kisses my cheek as Dodger puts a twelve pack of beer in the fridge.

  “I appreciate you comin’, even if you didn’t want to. Set the table for me?” Maisie sighs and grabs the stack of clean dishes from the counter, walking into the dining room.

  “What are you so worried about, anyway? I’ve known Tuck a long time. Doesn’t seem like the kinda guy to push if you don’t want him to.” Dodger grabs a green bean from the pan and pops it into his mouth. “Damn, those are good.”

  “No, he wouldn’t do anything like that. It’s just, well, with our history, I don’t think bein’ alone is a good idea.”

  “I gotcha. Less temptation with a houseful of people.” Dodger slaps my shoulder in a sweet, fraternal way and walks in to help Maisie with the table.

  I slide my hands into matching red and white gingham oven mitts and carry the oversized casserole dish with a double-sized meatloaf to the dining table and put it in the middle of the long, natural wood plank that I use as a trivet. Maisie and Dodger finish putting out the dishes while I change into a t-shirt dress with a scoop neck and flared skirt. It’s nice enough to look like I tried without being fancy enough to look like I was going out of my way just because Tucker’s coming over.

  I’ve just walked out of the bathroom, my fancy lip gloss freshly applied when there’s a knock at the front door.