by Renee Dyer
Def Leppard’s Photograph starts playing and she starts singing along, her hips moving side to side, her hair flipping back and forth. Holy shit, if that isn’t the sexiest thing ever, then I don’t know what is. Even though I don’t know what the hell her shirt means, watching her dance in those tight, barely there shorts has me almost busting through my pants. I’m lucky I haven’t cut any fingers off. I need a distraction.
“Like this one,” I blurt out. I need to ask something before I take her on her counter-tops not caring they’re covered in food.
She tells me it should be her theme song and chuckles… chuckles. Ok. I don’t get it. Am I supposed to?
“Inside joke or can you let me in on it?” I ask with a smile although the smile is more because I just said inside and let me in. I know, I’m a pig.
She tells me she’s a photographer and that her and her friend Alahna have a studio together. I’m impressed that she has her own business. She wouldn’t be after me for my money because she has her own. Mortified at the way my thoughts are going, I try to focus on what she’s saying. Something about this song being her happy place. Shit. I’m really not sure what she just said.
“A photographer, huh? What kind of stuff do you take pictures of?” Really, Tucker? That’s what you ask her? She takes pictures, idiot. That’s what her job is. Good job sounding like a moron. Lifting my eyes to meet hers, she’s smiling and I realize I asked something right. Guess I’m not so stupid after all.
I listen to her tell me about what she does. She talks about liking to take pictures of babies most, but pain comes over her face at the topic. I feel like me coming here today has been good and bad for her. She seems to be enjoying my company, but stuff she doesn’t want to deal with keeps creeping up on her and it’s making me feel awful. She makes a comment about how I must be comfortable in front of the camera. And, I admit something to her that I never admit. That I’m not always comfortable. I tell her I’ll never be comfortable with the paparazzi.
She reminds me that she doesn’t read the tabloids and I can tell she’s telling the truth. It does seem to bother her that stars get hounded. I find it weird that she cares about complete strangers. Who does that?
“Looks like you’re about done with your chore. Thanks for doing that. You may want to get out of my way while I throw all of this together. I can get a little crazy as I whip around here.” It’s cute the way she tries to warn me. Yep, she’s a kitchen-zilla. And I want to see her roar.
Offering to peel and chop the eggs for her, I almost burst into laughter when she stops to think about it. I can tell she wants to say no, but is too polite to do so. I’m shocked when she says yes. I thought she would think of some way of saying I must be tired from my driving or some other line about me relaxing because I’m a guest. She impresses me more by the minute. I almost laugh again though when she tells me not to make the pieces too small. I want to tease her and ask her to show me exactly what size, but I’m afraid that I might be pushing it. I truly don’t know her and what she can take.
When Warrant’s Sometimes She Cries comes on I think I hear her whisper, “Isn’t that the truth?” But I’m not sure. It was very faint and I have my back to her. Against my better judgment, I ask her.
“Ahhh. I said there’s going to be a lot of food. Hope you’re going to bring your appetite tonight.” I know she’s lying, but I can’t bring myself to call her on it. This song does make me think about how sad she’s been on and off throughout the morning. I can see how she would cry when she’s alone at night. I don’t see her crying in front of people. She doesn’t strike me as the type to lose it unless something big happens. She does seem lonely; just her in this big house. It seems to be a bit much for one person.
“I was going to ask you about that.” Hearing her suck in a breath, I know she thinks I’m going to call her out on it. “If there are only six people coming, even with you and me, why are you making so much food?”
She starts hackling like a hyena. “You’ll understand when they all get here.” That’s it. She doesn’t say anything else. This girl is making enough food to feed the set of my show and that’s all she says. With a smile still on her face, she finishes the pasta salad and coleslaw. She heads out to check the smoker and I take a moment to admire her ass again. It really is perfection in denim. Probably is out of denim, too.
Remembering that I’m about to run out of clean clothes, I tense up. This woman has been extremely kind and I’m about to impose on her again. I’m wondering if she’ll let me use her laundry facilities. Is that too much? Yeah… that’s too much. Forget it. I can’t ask that. I’ll just stop somewhere tomorrow and buy some stuff and hopefully not have too many people up my ass. Man, I really hate being out in public, especially now that the break up has gone public. Fuck.
Planting my feet, shoving my hands in my pockets, and taking a deep breath, I get ready to embarrass myself.
“Can I… uh… can I ask a favor of you?”
Hearing the hesitation in my voice makes her hesitant. Good job, Tuck. Nice way to make the girl feel uncomfortable. But, she still tells me she thinks so. So damned adorable when she’s indecisive.
I chuckle awkwardly. I’m a tad nervous. I can feel my palms get sweaty and my heart is racing a little. It’s kind of how I used to feel when I was sent to the principal’s office in school. I bite the bullet and ask her if I can use her washer. I ramble. I know I do, but I can’t help it. I spit the words out trying to get the embarrassment over with. I don’t expect her to be as gracious as she is even though that’s how she’s been all day. But, once again, she surprises me.
Cutting me off, she tells me to get my clothes out of my truck. I want to salute her and give her my best, “Yes, ma’am”, but, again, I don’t know her well enough to know if I can push and she’s been making my day easier when she doesn’t have any reason to. Who does that?
I hurry past her because I’m still a bit embarrassed to be using her laundry facilities and hiding out at her house for the day. I can’t wait to call Grams and tell her about today. She asked me to find adventure and that I did.
Walking back in, I stop at the door, breath knocked from my lungs. Adriana is dancing around her kitchen to Whitesnake’s Here I Go Again. It’s a great song that’s just been made greater by watching her dance and jump around. Her long hair is flying all over and she’s singing every word. She’s in rock heaven and could care less that I’m watching her. I can tell she knows I’m there and I’ll be damned if that doesn’t turn me on more. Most women would be embarrassed. I want to join her, but I’m mesmerized by her hips, her ass– everything about her. When she smiles at me, my heart stops for about the hundredth time today. I think she’s going to be the death of me.
“Great song,” I say dropping my bag at my feet. It’s taking all my self-control to not throw her over my shoulder and go room to room until I find a bed. This song needs to end. It may be one of the best songs of all time, but I need her to stop moving like that before I explode all over her kitchen.
She must sense that I’m tense because she walks over to the sink and finishes cleaning up the dishes that she had started. I stand there getting my heart rate and breathing under control. Watching her. After she places the last pot down, she motions for me to follow her and I get a big Cheshire cat grin on my face. She looks confused, but that’s because she doesn’t know that I get to stare at her backside while I follow.
In her laundry room, she shows me where everything is, how the machines work, and starts to walk out. Most women would have stayed. Tried to see what kind of underwear I wear. Something to brag about later. But, not her. I feel like an asshole, but there’s something I have to ask. Placing my hand on her shoulder to stop her, I almost can’t ask her when her hazel eyes look into mine. I don’t know that I ever thought hazel eyes were pretty before. I was wrong– so wrong. Hers are stunning. I have to know if this is a safe place for me. Will her friends tell anyone I’m here tonight? I keep my eyes l
ocked with hers as I ask this. I need her to see how important this is to me. I don’t know why I need her to know this, but I do.
She clears her throat a couple times, starts to talk and stops. Whatever she’s trying to say isn’t easy for her. I feel horrible for putting her in this situation. I know I should get in my truck and leave. Her and I could never work in this lifetime. Our worlds are too far apart. But then she tells me that she promises… promises… her friends are great people. They would never put stuff online about me if she told them I didn’t want that. The look on her face is so raw and honest. She tells me she can’t say they won’t ask for pictures with me because they are human after all. That brings a small smile to my face. It quickly drops when she says that if I’m worried, I don’t have to stay. She tells me I don’t know her and I don’t have to take her word for it. She doesn’t want to put me in an awkward situation. Everything she’s saying rings of truth, but at the same time I can tell she doesn’t want me to go and I want her to tell me that. She doesn’t. I can see it all over her face, but she doesn’t say it. Guess I need to tell her how I feel first, but not too much.
I trust her. I don’t know why, but I do.
Looking nervous as can be, wringing her hands, staring at the floor, I can tell she wants to say something to me. I wait her out. After several attempts and me telling her she’s rambling and grabbing her flying hands– man, how I like touching her– she finally asks me to stay here… with her… until taping resumes. I’m a little, well, a lot disappointed at the contract she proposes. No sexual relations. Really?
Well shit. How do I say no to staying here with this beautiful woman?
I’m flabbergasted that she would want to do this for me. She doesn’t even know me. Where did she come from? She must be an angel.
Haven’t I been thinking all morning that I don’t want to leave? I feel comfortable here. I know I’m going to say yes before I even start talking to her even though I know I’ll prolong my answer. Can’t seem too eager. I’m shocked that she wants me here. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m Tucker Stavros the movie star. This is because I’m Tucker Stavros the man. That’s who she wants here.
“Thank you. Yes. And no.” When she looks at me funny I know I need to clarify. “No contract needed. But seriously, where the fuck is Epping?”
She barks out a laugh and the biggest snort yet. “Well, haven’t you heard? It’s the center of the universe.” I know my mouth is hanging wide open and I’m looking at her like she’s grown five heads. She’s still laughing… and snorting when she tells me I can ask anyone at her town and that they sell bumper stickers. Seriously? That’s all it takes. Laughter starts at my toes and works its way up, erupting out. I’m not sure how long I laugh, but my sides hurt and tears have come down my face. She’s glowing her smile is so bright.
“This town may just be growing on me.” Had I made a wish I didn’t remember making? I think I did and it just came true. That wish is standing in front of me, offering me a reprieve from the life I hate. Who knows? Maybe I could find a new life.
Leave yourself open to possibilities. Grams words float through my mind and I smile.
Chapter Seven
Tucker & Adriana
Not kidding about being hungry, I ask if I can make her and I lunch while she’s making the desserts. I know I slowed her down this morning. I’ve never claimed to be a chef, but I figure I can help out now by making her a sandwich or something simple.
“Tucker, you’re my guest. I have time to make us lunch and sit down to enjoy it with you. Give me five minutes to finish this key lime pie and get it in the fridge. Okay?”
I almost call her kitchen-zilla, but the pleading look on her face stops me. She really seems to be at peace in the kitchen. I nod, stand against the counter, and wait for her to finish. It smells so damn good in here I’m ready to eat the counter-tops. Watching her is something. She owns the space. Outside of the kitchen she seems shy, insecure, but here… here she’s confident.
Sexy.
“You like turkey or ham?”
“Huh?” I ask. Lost in thinking about her again, I didn’t realize she had finished the pie and is pulling sandwich fixings from the fridge.
“Turkey or ham,” she says with a smile.
“Yes please,” I grin back. I’m starving and not about to hide it. I’m not turning down any real food after the shit I’ve eaten all week.
Giggling at me again– my new favorite sound– she asks if I like provolone. Lost in my thoughts of her laughter, I just nod. Her giggles and smile have left me speechless. I wonder if I could ever get tired of seeing her smile. I don’t think I can and that thought scares the shit out of me.
“Can I get the drinks while you make those?” I steel myself for her rejection. Totally ready for her to shut me down again and kick me out of her kitchen.
“Sure. The glasses are there.” She points to a cabinet a few over from me. “And the water is filtered, built right into the fridge. I’ll have that. You can have whatever you want. Thanks, Tucker.” The way she says my name has Tucker Junior wanting to come out and play. Damn, I had gone a few minutes with him staying down.
Smiling like an idiot, I get two glasses down and head for the fridge. I grab a quick glimpse of her as I walk by, allowing myself to enjoy her beauty for a second. Still in shock that she let me help, I want to curse when I can’t find the water dispenser at first. Not about to ask her for help, I keep looking and almost belt out a victorious scream and do a fist pump. Somehow, I keep myself in check.
In my head, I do a victory dance.
Bringing the glasses to the table, I decide to put them in the same spots we sat in this morning. Remembering our breakfast, though riddled with painful moments, I smile. At that breakfast I realized how comfortable I felt with a complete stranger. Throughout this whole day, I’ve been happier than I ever have before. I’ve been at… peace. Looking at the glasses, I think about moving them. Sitting next to her, being closer to her, but I like to look at her. Watch her smile and blush.
I head back to the kitchen to see if I can help with anything else, but I stop, struck by how much I enjoy her company, how beautiful I think she is. I’m paralyzed by my thoughts of her and by the fact that it’s too soon to feel this way. I’m feeling too much. Staying here is a bad idea. I have to tell her I’m leaving in the morning.
“You ready for lunch?” Startling me from my thoughts, I come back to reality, to hazel eyes staring into mine, a tiny, perfectly shaped body standing in front of me holding our lunches, but what I really see is her lips. Her lips are made to be kissed– just pouty enough to nibble on. I want her in ways I’ve never wanted any other woman. “Tucker, you ready for lunch?” she asks again.
“Oh yeah,” I croak out. “I’m starving.” That is no lie, but I feel like I need to cover up the fact that I was just mentally devouring her. I can’t look at her, so I look down at my plate and freeze all over again. Shit, this woman really is trying to kill me. My sandwich is mammoth, filled with lunchmeats, cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. It has me drooling. But, it’s the chips and the pickle spear that has gotten to me. The fucking pickle spear. This is how Grams made my plate growing up and she never forgot the pickle spear.
“Everything alright, Tucker? If you don’t like what’s on your plate, you don’t have to eat it. This is how I like mine. I should have asked you first.” Shit. I hadn’t realized I was standing there staring at my plate. Insecure Adriana is back. I can see it in the slump of her shoulders, in the way her eyes are shifting not able to look at me. I did this. Over a stupid pickle spear. Shit.
“No, I mean, yes, sweetness. This is… perfect.” Did I just call her sweetness? I did and it suits her. Her personality, her love of cooking and, well, maybe someday I’ll find out… Pulling my thoughts back to comforting Adriana, I have to tell her what’s going on with me. “My Grams used to make my plate just like this. Guess I got lost in the memory.” With that said, I start for th
e table.
“No way. My mom always made my plate like this, too,” she said as she sat down. “Adrian hates pickles so I always got two. I didn’t mind because I love them. Don’t know why mom didn’t just put two on my plate. Think she thought that someday he would come around, but he never did.”
“Adrian?”
“Oh, sorry. I told you I have a sister. Her name is Kate. We call her Katie. Adrian is my brother– my twin brother. I know, my parents aren’t very creative, Adrian and Adriana.” It looks to me like she’s trying to sound irritated by their names, but all I see is love all over her face.
“You’re close.” I meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement. It‘s obvious by the look on her face how she feels about her siblings.
“Yeah, we’re all close. A is a complete pain in my ass, but I think that’s why I love him so much. He’s funny and talented and I think someday some lady is going to be really lucky. When he finally grows up a little.” She chuckles at the thought. “And Katie is beautiful and crazy. Fun crazy, not crazy, crazy. She may never settle down. She makes my mom nuts. She wants things for herself and won’t let anyone stand in her way. I admire her for that. She’s fierce and fearless.” Her eyes are shining with pride talking about them. It makes my heart ache that all I have is Grams. I wish she had someone other than me to talk about like this. I didn’t make her life easy.
“I take it you’re the youngest?” I don’t know why I got this impression, but I did.
“Only by six minutes,” she pouts and it’s the most adorable pout. It takes everything in me not to suck that lip into my mouth and claim it as mine.
