The Last Virgin in Texas

by Jennifer Woodhull

  “Oh, please.” Barbara waves her hand in the air. “Nobody takes a shit in this town without me knowing about it.” With that, she walks away.

  I look over at my friend. “You seem to feel better.” I eye her up and down.

  She lets out a heavy sigh and drops her head to one side, then the other. “Oh, I do. I really do. I was so worried, but just saying it out loud is so cathartic.” She leans up and kisses my cheek. “This would never have happened without you, Tuck. I hope one day I can return the favor.”

  “Just be happy and take good care of each other. That’s all the thanks I need.”

  In truth, I’m getting something from this, too. I’m finally free. I’m not under the thumb of the studio like I was, and more importantly, I’m free to date whoever I want, and want isn’t even the right word. Try need more than my next breath or desire down to the depths of my soul. I need Gretchen; I love her, and I’m going to get her. I just have to figure out the right approach to make it happen.

  I walk out to my Mercedes convertible where it’s parked in front of Marissa’s house and pull my phone from the glove box to check it before I head home.

  I don’t have any messages, but my Facebook app has an alert indicating a new post. I don’t use social media as an actor. I have an assistant who posts as me to keep me relevant. I don’t have the time or energy for that bullshit.

  I do maintain a pseudonym on Facebook for keeping up with family and friends back home. I use the name Buck Travis, who died at the Alamo during the Texas Revolution, and I use a picture of myself from middle school for the profile.

  When I swipe open the app, I see the notification is for a pic that Mama and several of the other ladies of the Women’s Auxiliary are tagged in. Maisie posted it. The caption reads, “Can’t wait for this girl to get home. Miss you, cuz!” There’s an emoji of a smiley face blowing a kiss.

  The caption is on a photo of Gretchen. When I scroll far enough to see the whole picture, I slump back against my seat. She’s so damn beautiful, it nearly takes my breath away.

  She’s wearing a floral dress and her long, blonde hair is straight. She’s all made up, and even though I love the way she looks bare-faced, what she’s wearing makes her eyes look even bigger and more doe-like than usual. Her lips are painted with a soft pink and it makes them look fucking irresistible.

  I grin as I look down at the photo, then my grin fades as something occurs to me. She’s all dolled up, and she’s not in Shiner because Maisie said she misses her. So, the important question is, who is she all dolled up for?

  I blow out a slow, hard breath and dial the Texas number I’ve known by heart since I was a teenager.

  “Sophia’s.” The answer is clipped, and I realize I’ve caught them in the middle of the lunch rush, but I give zero fucks about that right now.

  “Maisie.”

  The breath she sucks in when she hears my voice is audible through the phone. “Uh, Tucker? Hi.”

  “Where the fuck is she?”

  Thirty-Five

  I’m lying on the sofa, my head resting on a pillow on Mama’s lap as we watch Wheel of Fortune in the media room. Because my Mama has a media room, because she’s fancy as shit now, apparently.

  “Oh, oh, oh!” She exclaims, and as she flails her arms around, she nearly knocks me off the sofa. “I’ve got it! It’s a before and after, so it’s wedding party animals!”

  When the player solves the puzzle, and she’s right Mama claps excitedly. I guess nobody’s too fancy to be proud of themselves when they solve the puzzle on the Wheel.

  Her phone buzzes on the side table and she grabs it, flipping it open.

  “Oh, look! Helen sent me pictures from the picnic! Wanna see?” She hands it to me.

  “The Labor Day picnic? I completely forgot. I missed it.” I sit up, scrolling through the photos.

  There’s Dillon in his uniform, and Shane, dressed in the pig suit, the mascot for the grocery store. There’s one of Maisie holding out a popsicle for Dodger to take a bite, and damn if they don’t look a regular couple. The next one is Mr. and Mrs. Kane and she’s giving him a kiss on the cheek as he has his arm draped around her.

  I give Mama a wry smile as I hand her phone back, but I can feel my eyes growing damp.

  “What is it, honey?” She rubs her palm against my shoulder.

  “As much as I love being here, I miss being home, too, I guess.” I shrug, but she’s not buying any of it.

  “You sure there’s not more to it?”

  “To tell you the truth, I think seeing Tucker when he was in town was not good for me. I told you we were spending some time together. Talking. Maybe I really did let my feelings get too far.”

  “I was afraid that it was somethin’ like that. So what do you think is the best thing for you right now? Is this, being out here with us…does that seem like it’s helpin’ at all?” She puts her hand on my cheek and wipes away the errant tear that escaped.

  “It does. I like it out here, I do. I just feel like I’m runnin’ away from everything back home at the same time.”

  “What if you stayed out here for a while? You could let Maisie and Helen run the diner, and if you want to make things permanent, well, maybe they’d even buy it from you. I’m sure you could work something out to make sure the place is in good hands.” She cocks her head to the side. “I mean, really, Gretchen. Is there any future for you back in Shiner anymore?”

  My brows knit and I chew at my bottom lip. I hadn’t really considered it in those terms. Is there anything there for me? I mean, Maisie is there, and my business, but that’s right now. What if she and Dodger get married? She’s not gonna spend all her time with me anymore. It’s not like I have many chances of meeting somebody and settling down myself.

  I hug Mama tight.

  “Maybe I need to put some thought into that, but I think I need to quit running from all the ghosts back home and do that thinkin’ there. I think it’s about time for me to head back.” She looks disappointed, and I hate that. I’ve gotten so much closer to her since I’ve been here, and I’m so glad I came out. “I promise, though, I will give it some serious thought.”

  “And even if you decide not to move here with us, you promise you’ll come back to visit more?” She asks as she squeezes my neck.

  “I promise. I couldn’t ask for any better Mama than you. I’m glad we had this time together.” I kiss her on the cheek and stand to go into my room to get my things together and find a flight home.

  As I walk out of the media room, she calls to me and I turn back.

  “One last thing, honey. I know…it probably makes you feel some kinda way, like you’re different. But believe me, honey, when the time is right, you’ll know it.” She stands and walks toward me. “Just be safe, and I mean, with your heart too, alright?”

  Oh. Fuck. Does she know? How can she know?

  “I’m your Mama and we have a sixth sense about these things.” She kisses me on top of the head. “Love you, honey. Let me know if you need help with your flights.”

  Great. Not only does every guy I go out with act weird when he finds out, but even my own mother can tell I’m still a virgin. I think we passed a convent on the way in. Maybe I should swing by on my way to the airport and find out if they’re taking applicants.

  Back in my room, I open my laptop and pull up a flight back to San Antonio. After I get it booked for two days from now, I grab my phone to text Maisie that I’m coming back. She replies with the emoji of hands clasped in thanks and big smiley faces.

  I’m putting the things I won’t need in my bag to get organized when my phone dings. Expecting a smart-ass comment from Maisie, I grab it, but the message isn’t from her. It’s a text from a number I don’t know. Before I open it, in case it’s spam, I do a web search of the number and see it’s from California, Malibu to be exact.

  A knot forms low in my stomach as hope and fear wrestle for control of my emotions. I slowly blow out a deep breath.


  Hope wins, and I open the message to find a video attached with no comment. I hover, for a moment, my thumb over the little right-facing arrow. It could be anything. It could be Tucker’s wedding announcement. Or him in a stunt for his show that’s gone terribly wrong.

  Come on, chicken shit. You’re dying to know. Just do it, already.

  I close my eyes as I hit the play button.

  The voice I hear is one I vaguely recognize, but it's not at all who I expected.

  “Hi, Gretchen. My name is Marissa, and I’m a friend of Tucker’s. I was there with him and Jared when we were in Texas. I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to meet you. I was really looking forward to that, actually.”

  The impossibly beautiful blonde bites her lip nervously just like I do, as she leans over a counter of some kind, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s really nervous, or if that’s something she learned in acting class.

  “Anyway, I know you and Tucker had a falling out, and it was partially because I showed up and acted like an asshole. You don’t know me so you don’t have any reason to believe me, but I promise I didn’t know you were there or what it might look like to you. I was just keeping up the facade like he and I always do in public.”

  She drops her head for a moment, and I hear her ask if it’s okay. A woman’s voice draws closer and tells her to keep going. The woman seems to stand out of frame but puts her palm on Marissa’s back. Marissa looks at her, then turns back to the camera and continues.

  “I know Tucker tried to tell you about him and me, that none of it was real, but I’m guessing you didn’t believe him. We’ve been friends a long time, and even though I haven’t known him as long as you have, I know what a good man he is, Gretchen. He’ll never tell you this himself, so I thought I should.”

  My stomach is turning flips as I wait with bated breath, hanging on every word. I don’t know what I’m hoping for, waiting for, but those hopeful type of butterflies are swooping around inside my belly and I want them to win.

  “Here goes! So, the reason Tucker pretended to be in a relationship with me is to protect me.” She looks off-camera and smiles. “Me, and the person I love. I was afraid if anyone found out I was in love with a married woman, it would ruin me, even if people knew what an asshole her husband was.”

  She looks back to the camera. “To help us and make it so we could be together, in public, Tucker arranged for us to do an interview. It’s going to air on Thursday night, and tell the world all about the woman I love, and how Tucker helped us until we could get her out of a bad relationship so we could be together.”

  She looks off for a moment and smiles before wrapping up. “The other thing you should know is, babe, that man loves you. He’s got it bad. He hasn’t been the same since we got back from Texas, and I don’t know what happened with him and Jared, but that punk’s MIA and I know for a fact Tucker went over there. He saw your glasses at Jared’s and thought…well, you can imagine what. So if you hear from him…Look, I know I don’t have any right to give you advice, but I’m going to, anyway. Just listen to him. Hear him out and have an open mind. He’s a decent guy—the best friend I’ve ever had, and he loves you. That’s not something you just throw away. I hope you watched all this since I was nervous as fuck to send it, but anyway, that’s it. I hope this helps, and I really hope one day we get to meet and it’s under good circumstances.”

  With that, she nods and the video ends.

  I watch it a second time, just to be sure I heard her right, then flop back on my bed.

  Mr. Chips hears me and comes bounding up onto the bed beside me. I look over at him.

  “What do you think, Mr. Chips? She says the whole thing was a setup. She says…she says he loves me.” He cocks his head to the side.

  “I mean, you seemed to like him. What do you think? Should I try to talk to him?” He wags his tail and I swear to God the little mutt is smiling.

  I don’t have Tucker’s number, but I remember that I got the number for his assistant when he was setting up the photoshoot, so I grab my phone and dial her.

  “Tucker Kane’s office, this is Leesa.”

  “Hi, Leesa. This is Gretchen Weber. We talked a few weeks ago…you helped me set up the photoshoot in my diner, back in Shiner?”

  “Oh, hi there.” I can’t tell from that if she really knows who I am or not. “How can I help you?”

  “Well, I was tryin’ to get in touch with Tucker and I don’t have his cell number. Could I get it?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Weber, but he’s traveling out of state right now and unfortunately, I cannot share his private number with anyone. If you’d like, when he checks in, I’m happy to have him call you. Would that work for you?”

  “Oh, well…um, ya know what? Never mind. I’ll try him another time. Thanks.”

  “Whatever you’d like to do, but please be aware he’s on hiatus from filming and I don’t know when he plans to return. Have a great day, Gretchen. By-ee.”

  She hangs up, and I’m instantly glad I didn’t get his number after all. If he’s on a break from filming, with no date of return, that could mean anything.

  Frustrated, I tug at the ends of my hair. We’ve never gotten it right, him and me. It’s always the time or the place or something that fucks things up. If I stay in Shiner, I face daily reminders of my heartache, and no real prospect of much of a future if I want to find someone of my own someday.

  If I come back out here to Colorado, well, I could go to school, get a job, or work on my artwork for a while if I wanted to. The possibilities are really endless. The biggest draw of Denver, though, is that there is nothing to remind me of him.

  Still, it’s not home.

  As I wait for my flight home, I turn the options over and over in my mind. I’m no closer to a decision when I get home, but I have to admit, it feels good to be behind the wheel of my own truck again.

  I’m feeling pretty good about my options and glad to get back and see Maisie and Dodger and everyone. There’s a spring in my step when I hop out of the truck, Mr. Chips in tow.

  That mood is quickly squelched by anxiety when I see my front porch, and the person waiting there for me.

  Thirty-Six

  On my front porch swing is a man, a big one, reclining back. There’s a muscular forearm jutting out from where his hand is tucked behind his head. He has a Frontiersman ball cap pulled down low over his face. A square jaw with sexier stubble than should be allowed on one man is just visible under the brim of his hat.

  “About time you finally showed up.”

  Tucker sits upright and takes his hat off, combing his hair through with his fingers before replacing it. The simple gesture is impossibly sexy, and it sends a rumble thundering low through my belly. He lowers his shades and looks over them at me, his blue eyes practically piercing my soul.

  “Why are you on my porch?”

  “Because your back door is locked.” He nods toward the front door. “You gonna let me in? Maisie charges me fifty dollars every time I have to go to the diner to take a leak. I’ve had to go to the ATM three times since I got here yesterday.”

  I cock my head to the side.

  “She refused to tell me when you were getting’ in. Said some bullshit about penance and humility being good for me.” He cocks up an eyebrow and something about how disheveled he looks combined with Maisie shaking him down makes me laugh out loud.

  Mr. Chips barks at me and Tucker leans down, scooping him up with one hand and pats his head with the other.

  “See? Even Mr. Chips is on my side.” He holds him up and the pup licks his face and I am instantly jealous of my dog. “Come on Gretchen. Let me in. You know you want to.”

  Damn, him. I don’t want to want to.

  I unlock the door and he walks inside, putting Mr. Chips down and taking off his leash, hanging it on the knob of the front door.

  I put my bag on a chair and when I turn, he’s right in front of me. He takes up all the space in the house—maybe i
n the universe because I swear, he has his own gravitational pull.

  He puts one hand on my shoulder and slides the other around the back of my neck, fisting it in my hair. He gently tugs at it, tipping my head back, and my hands are drawn like magnets to his chiseled steel chest.

  “You know my truths, Gretchen. All of them. Now I think it’s time you told me yours.”

  “What do you mean?” I nibble on my bottom lip and he makes a soft, guttural sound from deep in his throat.

  “You know good and damn well what I mean.” He growls the words, so that they feel desperate. “Marissa texted me yesterday, lookin’ for me and told me what she did. I can’t be too mad at her since she was trying to help. So now you know that everything I told you is true.”

  He takes a half step forward and when he does, I feel heat radiate out across my skin.

  “Not only do you know about that, I’ve told you, twice now, how I feel. You’ve never told me how you feel, though.” He dips his head lower, but still, only his hands are touching me. “So, tell me, Gretchen. Tell me your truth.”

  I swallow, hard. My words are breathy and threadbare.

  “When I saw you kissing her, I thought…I thought you were a liar. I thought you were playing me the whole time.”

  He nods. “And you wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to explain.”

  “Because when I saw that, I was…” I close my eyes and say the rest. “Shattered. I haven’t felt like that since the day I heard you’d left town with Jared.”

  His fingers grip tighter at the nape of my neck.

  “And you went out with Jared to get back at me.”

  “No!” I open my eyes and meet his gaze, my brows furrowed. “We were just hangin’ out. He kissed me, but I couldn’t go through with anything else. I just…I wanted to feel something that wasn’t…”

  “What?” He moves closer, pressing his cheek to mine, nuzzling against my face and the sensation is shockingly intimate.

  “My heart was broken, and I wanted to feel something that wasn’t that.” My words are barely a whisper.