by Lori Power
Not to be out done, a rambunctious red head in platforms, wearing a tiny mini skirt and tube top yelled. “Sing it for me, Tuck.”
A momentary pang of loneliness assaulted her, realizing everyone here knew Tuck. But then of course they would. This was his home. They likely all grew up together. Vivian was the stranger. He had made her feel so special this afternoon she had forgotten she was the odd one out.
More of the crowd chimed in. “Ya, sing it Tuck!”
With a voice needing no reinforcement, Tuck complied. His head lifted slightly to acknowledge the crowd, and then he closed those beautiful sea-faring eyes and started to sing. Vivian followed suit, swept away in the story of the song.
She was lost in the midst of the lyrics, back on Tuck’s motorcycle, gliding along the highway, just the two of them. As the song progressed, so did her imagination with his lips on hers, and the warmth of his hands on her body. Drink in her hand, she swayed to the rhythm of his song, absorbed in the moment. When he ended to a ruckus of applause, he opened his eyes. Like a magnet, eyes, the color of stormy skies, focused on Vivian. Her pulse quickened in anticipation as though they were the only two in the bar. He smiled, and in her mind, reinforced her crazy notion that he truly had sung the song just for her.
The crowd cheered and begged for more.
A hand touched Vivian’s arm, forcing her back to earth. “You came after all,” Marston said. “What’d ya think?”
“Oh, I like it,” Vivian said as the band began a faster song.
Another hand shot out to hers and pulled her toward the dance floor. “You’re not from around here.” A beefy man, who still held her hand, started to bustle and shift his weight in some sort of dance move only he was privy to. Ham-hock hands encircled her waist, preventing her from moving in the other direction. “Finish up your drink and we’ll dance.”
Not knowing what else to do with the drink, Vivian did as she was bid and swallowed the remaining whiskey in the half empty glass. She shimmied to set the empty glass on the closest table and was then led back to the dance floor. Another song she knew started. Before she knew what was going on, she had another drink and a new dance partner. Each face blended, and in a small corner of her mind, it was time to call it a night and head out, but she had never had so much fun.
With a fuzzy brain, her limbs turned to liquid. She moved to the music like she had always wanted to dance—free of her cumbersome inhibitions.
Her mind danced as she swayed to a slow song with some fellow holding her drink while she sang along. If only Tuck would play that guitar again. So sweet.
“That’s probably enough for tonight,” said a thick voice in her ear. Warm fingers twisted around her wrist, and an arm folded over her shoulder as she swayed.
Lifting her head, she glanced around the near dark room. “T…Tuck?” she slurred, hearing his voice, but his face wouldn’t come into view, no matter how hard she tried to focus. “I was just thinking of you. Y…you play beautifully. P…play it…again. Play another one for m…me.”
“Ya, play it again, Sam.” Her dance partner chimed in sarcastically with a high pitched fake voice causing Vivian to giggle.
“No, his name is n…not S…Sam,” Her words slurred. “Tuck. Say it with with with me…Tu…ck.”
Moving faster than she could process and slower than she wanted, Vivian vaguely processed what happened next. Raised voices, and the sound of a table crashing to the floor, pierced her ears. Margie led her to the door, at least she thought it was Margie.
“You have no head for the booze,” Margie said, guiding Vivian to a bench outside. “I thought anyone who orders a whiskey and Ginger Ale knows what it does. Live and learn, as they say. We’ll let the boys clear their heads while we take some air, shall we.”
“O…hh.” Vivian hiccupped. “O…hh…kay.”
“You sit here and I’ll send Tuck out when he’s done.”
“Dun what?” Vivian blinked to clear her vision.
Margie laughed, cupped Vivian’s shoulder affectionately and went back inside.
Whatever Tuck was doing seemed to take forever. “S…so tired.” Vivian laid her head on the bench to rest. She giggled as she watched the stars dance overhead.
Of a sudden, time sped up again. It seemed like a only a minute after she laid her head down, just getting comfortable on the hard bench, when a low voice echoed in her brain. “My God, really! I can’t believe this. What were you thinking?” Tuck’s exasperated out-burst hurt her head.
“That you, Tuck?” Vivian smiled. “I…had so…much fun.”
“How the hell am I going to get you back into Ethel’s without all the tongues wagging? She’s the biggest gossip in this town.” He chastised her as he pulled her off the bench and positioned her body in the direction of the Inn.
She moved, but couldn’t feel her feet as they walked. Tuck’s arm wrapped around her waist, his hand molded to her hip, holding her steady and warming her fuzzy brain. She relished the heat of his arm around her. Vivian squirmed to glance at him, noticing he wasn’t wearing his glasses and had an icepack held to his forehead.
“Wh…what, happened to you…you?”
A hard face glared at her in the gloom from the street lamp. “Nothing. Just don’t say a word.” His apparent anger penetrated her muzzled brain.
Vivian stopped, swaying slightly, pulling out of his grip to put her hands on her hips. “Listen here, you! Don’t tell me what to do. You’re no boss of me.”
Legs spread, Tuck removed the towel and icepack from his head. He glanced down as he carefully folded the towel, rewrapping the icepack, and again laid it against his temple. With an audible breath, only then did his hard eyes to meet hers. “I’ll tell you what to do and rightly so. What were you thinking? You come to a small town and think nothing can happen to you? Everything’s so safe and cozy because it’s picturesque?” His breathing was labored. “You let some guy paw you all night and think he won’t have any expectations? I don’t know where you come from, but the girl I met this afternoon wouldn’t be that stupid.”
Vivian wobbled, but kept her feet in place, spread and preparing for combat. “Stupid? Girl!” She took a halting step in his direction, trying not to trip. “I’m no girl and I’m not stupid. I run my own business. I have a good career. I…”
“Stupid and naïve is what you are!” Tuck interrupted, pointing to his swollen eye. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain the shiner tomorrow. I haven’t had a black eye since Nate and I were in high school. Damn!” He stomped his foot in the dirt. “Man! I just can’t believe this.”
She moved forward, willing her body to comply. “Where did ya get the shiner?”
Tuck closed the distance between them, returning his arm around her waist. “Ohmigod.” Huffing, he shook his head. “Never mind.”
****
Removing the icepack and towel from his face, he tossed them in a trash can, before bracing his feet and draping her left arm over his shoulders. Without another word, he propelled her up the street toward the bed and breakfast. When they got to the front gate, he stopped and let her go. “I think you’ll be fine from here. Just keep quiet and maybe, just maybe, Ethel won’t wake up. Though I doubt she’s even asleep knowing you’re out.”
He shook his head as Vivian swayed from side to side as she started up the path. Then she turned and staggered back toward him. If he had been in a better mood, he would have laughed at her windup. As she strove to fit her hand on her hip to maintain her balance, he pinched his lips together to contain his hilarity.
“Y…you know, you’re not the same guy who kissed me today and played guitar,” she began. “Th…that guy was, wow! You on the other hand, you suck!” With all the poise of frog, she turned with a huff. Thankfully, she kept her comments to herself on the rest of the walk home.
A trickle of blood ran down his cheek. He reached in his back pocket to retrieve his handkerchief and held it to his head.
Vivian continued to wobb
le and sway as though she were balancing a hula-hoop. An involuntary snicker escaped him.
She turned around, almost falling into the bushes. “What?” She frowned.
Really? It was hard to stay mad at someone who looked so adorable when she was drunk. Her glazed eyes reflected the moonlight as she tapped her foot, waiting expectantly for his answer.
He shoved his handkerchief in his pocket and moved toward the gated path, catching Vivian before she fell. Clamping her body tight to his, he turned her around, one hand bracing her neck and the other at the small of her back. Without further thought to his actions, he bent and fastened his lips to hers.
She stiffened for a brief second and then wrapped her arms around his neck, fitting her body to his. Her mouth yielded to his onslaught, raging his emotions. He tasted the slight iron of blood mixed with her sweetened whiskey when she bit his lip. He broke the kiss, only pulling back marginally from her to stare deep into her eyes.
Beyond the haze of desire, he claimed her mouth again, hard and punishing, to make an impression.
Her arms twined tighter around his neck, drawing him closer still. Her tongue dueled with his as he pressed closer, showing her his need. His breath was ragged as he skimmed her throat and he reveled in her desire as she threw her head back, her limbs liquid to his touch. As her hands splayed across his pecks, Tuck moved his hands lower to squeeze her backside. Unwilling to relinquish control, his lips returned to hers, his tongue penetrated her mouth in an all out assault. It was a battle of passion, of which they were well matched.
Heart pounding, his lower body stiffened with the need to possess her. She leaned her head back, welcoming his touch. His hand roamed her back. He marveled how soft and desirous she was in all the right places.
“Yes.” Her whisper filled his ear. “Absolutely, yes.”
He moved his hands to her hips, pressing his firm member to her ensure she understood the depth of his arousal.
She took his earlobe between her teeth, flicking it with her tongue. He moaned as she rubbed against him in that ageless rhythmic motion of agreement between lovers.
A sudden whistle rang out from the trees, followed by, “You go Tuck! You show her how the local boys do it!”
Like cold water dosing a fire, he released her and moved away. “I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse and barely audible. “I got carried away.”
Her eyes were unfocused. The irises dilated to dominate their depths. “What?”
Running his thumb along her swollen lips, he slid his tongue out between his own battered lips, tasting blood.
“I…” He coughed. “I have to go.” If I don’t go now, I’ll take you right here in Ethel’s flower garden.
She shrugged her shoulders and turned, swaying toward the front door.
Despite her awkward gait, he still wanted to haul her back into his arms, and he could have. She was in no shape to refuse. But he wasn’t that type of guy. He shook his head, reaching a hand to inspect his battered lip.
The rage that consumed him when he saw Big Mike pawing her on the dance floor was a white-hot fury he had never experienced. Even when Tuck was married and men looked at his wife with carnal intent, he didn’t get angry. Back then ego ruled the day, and he would think eat your heart out fellas. Yet tonight was different. A possessiveness had taken over. He couldn’t stand the prospect of another man touching Vivian’s exquisite hips, or kneading her firm, rounded backside like he had some right to it. Tuck wondered why he should care. One kiss on a pier didn’t give him sole rights to Vivian, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted her for himself. He had experienced an unexpected closeness with her this afternoon. Something he had never experienced with another woman.
This is ridiculous. She’s just a tourist. She isn’t mine and I definitely don’t believe in soul mates.
If she wanted to get drunk in a bar and act idiotic, she would have to suffer the consequences. Why should he care? But Goddamnit, he did.
Even before he gave into his urge to kiss her this afternoon on the beach, he sensed she was special, that she was struggling to break free, but to do it on the dance floor?
Tuck had pulled Margie aside when he saw Vivian dancing. He jaw fell open when she told him Vivian was drinking whiskey.
Margie had shot him an irritated glare. “She orders, I serve. It’s called a Tavern for a reason. People come here to drink. Most times to get drunk.”
Before Tuck could do anything about Vivian, the crowd demanded another song. The guitar was thrust back in his hands and he was playing, craning his head to catch sight of the tall brunette with the spiky hair. Then he saw, her head back and laughing. Her long legs moved in rhythmic motion to the songs he played, and her body flowed like liquid, igniting a molten fire in the center of his being. He was mesmerized by her as if he was an ageless sailor watching the tide ebb and flow.
Playing the guitar was as easy as breathing. It was Tuck’s best way to relax, and after his little tryst with Vivian this afternoon he needed to get his head in order. Stopping that kiss had been one of the hardest things he had faced in a long while, but he didn’t want to take advantage of her. He decided to go to the Tavern to blow off some steam. Maybe hook up with Mary Anne and get the tourist out of his head.
Tuck and Mary Anne had a mutual agreement. Nothing serious, just a casual as needed relationship, and exactly what he needed to block his thought of Vivian. When Tuck walked into the Tavern and saw Mary Anne with Jared, Tuck didn’t interfere. He knew Mary Anne had a real thing for Jared and he hoped it would work out for them. He liked Mary Anne and wanted her to be happy. Happy was something he could never give her, because he wasn’t looking for a forever with her.
Continuing to reflect over this evening’s events during his walk home, Tuck realized casual had become his motto, his style for a long time now. He wondered if he would ever be cut out for a real relationship after the whip-burn he received from his ex.
The pain over his left eye erased all consideration of a serious relationship. He contemplated on how he was going to explain the black eye, that he was sure to have in the morning, to his his family. His mother would go crazy.
He was lucky to have just a shiner, and equally lucky that Big Mike fell harder than he punched. Tuck had tried verbally to let the big man know that Vivian was not there to be picked up, but with too much alcohol hazing Big Mike’s brain and his hormones rushing to all the wrong places by dancing with the luscious, tall woman, Big Mike was unwilling to back away easily. Tuck regretted that the confrontation had come to blows, but wasn’t worried about a long term, negative reaction from Mike. The big man had a reputation for getting into brawls at the Tavern and seldom remembered or even cared the next day. He’d probably punch Tuck in the arm and say, “Round two tomorrow.”
Tuck lengthened his stride, bone weary tired now. Emotionally exhausted, he walked with purpose toward his own home above the gift shop on Main Street. Too much thinking wasn’t getting him anywhere. He didn’t regret the kiss, neither one. Somehow Tuck didn’t think Vivian was the fling type. She seemed more long term. The serious relationship type—something he had avoided at all costs since his marriage disaster. Yet he couldn’t resist Vivian. Her facial expressions fascinated him. Pensive, compassionate, and not to mention passionate. Tuck touched his lip again. Passionate, definitely.
Long term and serious described his brother, Nate. Married to his high school sweetheart, two kids, a house, and car, Nate had all the fixings. Tuck had never been that way, even when he was married, no matter how short that turned out to be. Especially after that experience, he kept all relationships determinedly casual. Even his business programming style was easy. His whole motivation to make the program as easy for the end user is what had made him successful. Goddamn Bart for blowing my business and for me for not seeing it coming. Maybe if he was more like Nate, Tuck would have seen the writing on the wall and been able to do something about it before it all blew up in his face.
Chapter
Eight
Seven would-be sailors, including Vivian, toured the vessel they would soon be manning. “It’s all about the wind,” Nate said when they paused by the large mast. “Without wind, no sail. The essence of sailing is the ability to read the wind, gauge the pressure of the water on the hull of the boat to propel it to the ultimate destination.”
As eager as she was, learning the basics was hard work.
“No use coming on board if you don’t know the terminology,” Randy’s graveled voice pierced the distance. “There are no thingies on board our ships.”
Vivian was exhausted. She remembered the laugh she and Jess shared the first time they had watched a movie with their favorite comedian, and how they wondered who in the world would pay someone to be a ranch hand. “Talk about role reversal. Don’t pay for the help you need, turn it into a tourist event and people will pay you to do the work,” Jess said between giggles of watching the actor turn out yet another golden line.
“We sailors try to avoid the no-go-zone,” Nate said, continuing his lecture on the sails. “That’s when the boat comes to within forty five degrees of the wind and then the sails shake or luff, and the boat essentially stops. So that’s way you see sailboats always seem to be leaning. They are actually. Sailing is a zigzag motion across the sea.”
To Vivian, the terminology was the hardest, but Nate assured them that once they practiced it would come to them as easily as knowing the basics of a burger. “Port is the left side of the boat when looking forward. Compare to left, each has four letters.” He smiled reassuringly. “Starboard is just like right, more letters and the opposite of left or port.” Nate went on to say that the aft was the back of the boat, while astern represented the front. Vivian had always wondered about the distinction, but it suddenly made sense. Outboard, toward the edge of the boat, as in outside the hull. Funny, I had always thought an outboard was a motor prior to today.
“You did good, girlie,” Randy said as he patted her shoulder, breaking her out of her reverie from where she stood with a half-sandwich in her hand. “Had quite a go with some of those knots, but you can climb a mast like a monkey. I was surprised.”
