by Renee Dyer
Oh, shit. I did it again. He’ll never stay here if I keep looking like a nut case who can’t have a simple conversation. Peering at him, I see he’s looking at me with a cautious look on his face. Shit, shit, shit, and double shit. Then, he smiles at me and I think it’s going to be good.
I was wrong.
He starts telling me he loves the house and the neighborhood. He makes a comment about how in another life these are the kinds of houses he would like to live in. It warms my heart. I wish Alex were here to hear this. A movie star wanting to live in one of his houses. Doesn’t surprise me one bit. I always said Alex was going to bring beauty to the world, one neighborhood at a time. He just didn’t get to live long enough to make that happen.
Then, Tucker drops my heart into my feet by asking me to give him the designer and builders name before he leaves. My eyes instantly water. I blink them as fast I can to keep the tears from spilling over. I could so easily give him Preston’s name, but I’m tired of not being able to talk about Alex. I’m tired of being paralyzed. Alex and I both deserve better than this.
Somehow I squeak out that it’s impossible for me to give him the architect’s information, but he’ll meet the builder tonight. I can see the confusion on his face when he asks why it’s impossible. I must look a mess because instant regret crosses his face after asking. I don’t handle Alex talk well. Whenever his name comes up it feels like losing him all over again.
Today is his birthday.
Today would have been his birthday.
God damn it, he’s still looking at me. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea inviting him to stay here.
Too late.
“Yeah… umm… you see… he was… the architect… was…” Oh for Christ sake, Adriana, just spit it out, “my husband.” Like a thousand pounds had been lifted off my chest, I can breathe again. I got through a sentence about Alex without going into a full blown panic attack. I didn’t run away or pass out. Wow. Holy shit. I can do this.
Tucker is busy, talking a mile a minute, apologizing while I’m realizing I’m alright. Smiling at him, probably not my best, but what I can muster at the moment, I tell him it’s okay. He had no way of knowing. I’m glad he admires the houses. They’re beautiful and I tell him so.
I surprise myself by talking about how he created beauty wherever he went. It feels right to say it and makes my heart feel warm. Makes it feel lighter. It has felt so heavy since he’s been gone. For a small moment, I’m able to remember Alex without crippling pain and it’s beautiful.
I want to laugh at the hesitancy Tucker shows asking about the builder, but it’s my fault he’s acting that way. Poor guy only met me a couple hours earlier and he’s seen me come close to losing my shit a few times. I’m shocked he’s still here. He must really be sick of fast food.
I don’t have to fake my happiness or smile when I tell him he’ll meet the builder tonight. I’m nervous about Tucker meeting Preston and want to show off Preston at the same time. He’s my best friend. Has been since I was six. Him and Alex. I’m just worried what he’ll think of me letting Tucker stay here. Will he think I’m disrespecting Alex? A look I can’t explain crosses Tucker’s face, but it’s gone quickly and he asks me why I decided on photography.
I chuckle thinking of the cheap camera my parents got me as a kid. I loved that thing and took it with me everywhere. I even slept with it, but I don’t tell him that. He’ll think I was a freak. Probably compare me to the paparazzi he deals with. I am obsessive at times, but I was ten when I slept with my camera. I’ve outgrown that habit. I haven’t outgrown my love of photography.
When he asks about going off to college I expect to freak out, but it only takes me a few seconds to breathe through it. It was really easy to tell him that I knew I would go wherever Alex and Preston went. I know he doesn’t get that, but I really need to start getting the other desserts made and time is ticking.
Besides that, as nice as it is to talk about Alex a little, I don’t think I’m up for much more. I don’t feel too bad asking Tucker if he’s done with his lunch even though he still has a little on his plate. When he starts loading the lunch dishes into the dishwasher, I try to stop him. I find out that Tucker Stavros is not one to be pushed around. So, he cleans up the lunch dishes while I get back to dessert making.
He probably thinks I’m mad because I accidentally drop a couple measuring cups and sigh when I realize what he will most likely infer. I know, the sighing won’t help my case any. Getting my head back in the game, I get to work on the truffles with cookie making on my brain.
Hearing him sigh as he walks past me, I wonder if he’s alright. Then I hear him drop onto my couch. I peek out at him. He looks distracted, lost in thought. I really want to go talk to him and make sure he doesn’t need anything, but I have to get these desserts done. He’s a grown man. He can ask if he needs something. Mixing the truffles together only takes a couple minutes. Unable to ignore the nagging in my brain that I’m being a horrible hostess when my guest is obviously bothered by something, I go to check on him.
Stealing myself for the aggravation I know I’ll feel because I am most definitely going to be behind schedule now, I walk toward my living room. I take deep breaths on my way there. I don’t want him to see that I’m aggravated. It’s not his fault that I make all this food. It is his fault that he just drove into my life unannounced, but I didn’t have to ask him to stay.
Still arguing with myself mentally, it takes me a second to realize his eyes are closed. I almost start speaking before it dawns on me that he’s asleep. I wanted no distractions and it looks like he’s trying to comply. Yeah right. Who the hell am I trying to kid? A distraction of epic proportions is sleeping, legs wide open, leaving nothing to the imagination on my couch.
Watching him sleep, I feel like one of the creepy, crazy fans I can only imagine he has to deal with on a daily basis, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him. His hands, God, he has big hands, lay across his stomach. His chest rises steadily with his breathing. Even with his eyes closed, I can see those piercing blue eyes that seemed to reach into my soul and demand all the truths that I have hidden from everyone else.
What is it about him that has me telling so much today? Has me touching another human being? He looks peaceful in his sleep. All the tension he carries around just melts away. He looks so… so… yummy. Speaking of yummy, I really need to get back to the kitchen.
Glancing back over my shoulder at him one more time, I give off a quiet snort thinking it really should be illegal to be that good looking.
A little over two hours later I’m a happy girl with Oreo truffles, peanut butter cup cookies, three kinds of lemonade, and a limeade complete. I admit to myself and myself only I was getting nervous about completing all my tasks. But, complete I did and I still have time to clean my act up, go over with Tucker how to go about introducing him to my friends, and maybe, if I’m lucky, get in a chapter or two of reading. Life is good.
Shit. Tucker. My Friends. This is a clusterfuck! I need to let them know I’m going to have a guest. I can’t just let them show up to him here. Right?
Grabbing my cell, I try to think of how best to word the message. No matter what I send, my friends are going to question me. Finally settling on a message, I type.
Have a guest 4 cookout. Not a date. You’ll recognize him when u c him. Plz be cool.
Fingers shaking, I address it to Alahna, Mick, and Dee, and hit send. I know they’ll tell the guys. This is huge news. Adriana has a guy coming to the cookout. I’m surprised I can’t hear squeals going through the neighborhood.
Instantly, my phone pings. Mick.
Is he hot? 1 of the guys from the dating site?
Another ping. Dee.
Thought you dropped the dating site. Don’t do this for us, sweetie. They’re pigs.
Third ping. Alahna.
Will I have to kick his ass for inappropriate comments or just sick Preston on him?
Oh for Christ’s sake. I ne
ed this to stop. I should have known this would happen. I love them all to death, but this will go on till the cook out and I just want to relax. Firing off one last text that I know is going to piss them off, I laugh at the steam that will inevitably start rising in three households very close to me and it won’t be from any ovens.
Not from dating site. Surprise. Stop asking. Turning phone off now. Love U!
Quick as my fingers can manage, I have the phone turned off. Hearing Tucker starting to move around in the living room, I make my way toward him. Still giddy from getting the girls worked up, I feel more joy at seeing how adorable he looks rubbing at his eyes like a little kid first waking up in the morning. It takes all my mental strength not to giggle and give away that I’m watching him.
When Dangerous Toys’ Sport’n a Woody comes through the speakers, I lose my battle with my self-control. All I can think of is the several conversations with Alex where he told me that it didn’t just have to be morning for wood to pop. Popping sounds are going off in my head and it’s making me laugh harder. That, and Tucker just waking up. Hell, I admit it, yeah, I take a peek.
“This song funny to you, sweetness?” Holy hell he sounds like walking sex when he wakes up. His voice is low and raspy and I’ll be damned if that doesn’t make me laugh harder. Maybe my laughter makes him think he is sport’n wood because I catch him peeking at himself and shaking his head. I nearly fall on the floor laughing and tears are running down my cheeks.
I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard. It feels good. Except my sides are starting to ache and I think I sound like a pig I’ve snorted so many times. I don’t even care anymore.
Watching Tucker stand up and stretch starts to bring me down from my laughing high. Seeing the lower part of his stomach, right where it dips into his jeans, you know, where the indents are that you always want to follow, but they disappear under the fabric. I find myself entranced by those and the trail of hair that I know leads to a treasure I would surely like to find.
When his thumbs brush the tears off my face, I’m not sure how I feel, but my body reacts on its own, moving into his embrace. I’m not sure if he even meant it that way. “I wish I knew what was going on in that pretty head of yours. I could use a good laugh.” Well, shit. That sobered me up the rest of the way. He just called me pretty. And, I’m not sure, but I think he’s looking at me like he wants to kiss me. Really wish I had more experience with this stuff.
“Ah,” I croak out, clearing my throat at the same time. He steps back, dropping his hands that were still cradling my face. Moment lost. Idiot. Me idiot. Not him.
“When I heard this song.” Am I really going to tell him the truth about this? “It reminded me of times Alex used to say… this is really embarrassing to say. You see… um.”
“Adriana. Nothing you can say can be worse than shit I deal with on a daily basis. I promise. Just say it.”
“Oh, okay. Well, you were just waking up and that song came on and he used to tell me that it didn’t have to just be morning for a guy to have wood.” I swear, I’m purple I’m so embarrassed. What is it about him that makes me speak the truth without a filter?
Tucker laughs so hard I worry his sides might split. “You, Adriana,” he says between fits of laughter, “are so unexpected. This has been such a fun day.” His blue eyes are twinkling. “Tell me, sweetness.” Again with that nickname. “Did you peek?” He roars with laughter.
I try answering, but all I can do it sputter. My cheeks must be flaming red because I can feel the heat pouring from them.
“Just kidding. You’re so damn hot when you blush,” he says still laughing. Huh? Pretty and hot. I think Tucker Stavros has officially lost his mind. His broken heart is affecting him more than he realizes.
“So, my friends will be here in less than two hours. I was going to put your clothes in the dryer, but I didn’t feel comfortable touching your personal belongings. Thought I might be intruding.”
“I wouldn’t have minded,” he says. He seems sincere. I am curious about what he wears under those jeans and I know the girls will ask, but I remind myself I’m not the type to try to earn bragging rights.
Shrugging my shoulders, “After you switch your clothes I figure you can get your other stuff from your truck. We can move the vehicles into the garage. I’ll show you the room you’ll be using, we can freshen up– that’s if you want to. Then, we can relax till everyone gets here. Sound good?”
“You’re a planner, aren’t you?” he asks with a smirk.
“That obvious?” I question with a sigh. I try to let loose and be spontaneous, but it’s just not me. I like things to be in order, have a place and time.
“I don’t mean it as an insult. I never could have made all the food you did today. It’s very impressive. You’re very impressive.” Another of his big, full dimple smiles crosses his face and, yep, on cue, I can see why they call it the panty dropping smile. Damn man.
Smiling back at him, trying not to show him that he’s affecting me, I try to figure out why he’s complimenting me so much. There’s nothing special about me.
“If you want to switch your laundry, I’ll go get your bed set up.” Truly, I need a minute away from him. Seems all my senses have been overwhelmed by Tucker since he pulled into my driveway this morning. I’m feeling a bit tuckered out– pun fully intended.
Practically running up the stairs, breathing a little easier as I put some distance between us, I rummage through the linen closet looking for bedding I deem manly enough for him to sleep on. Finding it ironic, I pull out the set that Alex picked out, an amish blue and cream plaid set.
After making the bed, I wonder for the umpteenth time if the room is far enough from mine. Is three rooms far enough to keep his sexiness from wafting through the walls? Not for the first time in the last few hours, I’m wondering if it’s a good idea letting him stay here.
Closing my eyes, I hold tight to an image of Alex in my favorite UNH t-shirt he used to wear. I think of him with his big green eyes and his smile that would light up any room he walked in, his heart that was too big. How he was so kind. My Alex.
Determined to be better, I head downstairs to find Tucker leaning against the door, feet apart, arms crossed over his chest, eyes boring into mine. My determination flounders. Damn him for being so sexy. I don’t know if I should drool or if my mouth should go dry looking at him. Not being attracted to him is going to be hard. Very hard.
Ushering him out the door, we get the vehicles in the garage. I can’t help but look around for nosy neighbors. I don’t really think my friends will spy on me… well, maybe they would seeing as I turned my phone off, but I don’t see anyone. My heart sinks when he pulls out a smaller duffel bag than his clothes were in. I can’t imagine how much Victoria hurt him that he’s lived this way for nearly a week. As much as I’m warring with my overactive hormones, I know I’ve done the right thing inviting him to stay.
Showing him to his room, I break out in a sweat as I explain that my room is right down the hall. It’s a minor detail, but somehow it feels taboo to me. I quickly shove him into his room with him chuckling at me and show him the closet and en suite bathroom. Feeling too much like a real estate agent, I tell him to make himself at home, that I’m going to freshen up, and head off to my own room.
I’m mortified that I freaked out telling him where my room is and I can’t wait to relax in the shower. I really don’t need a second shower, but my muscles are tense and my nerves are raw. The hot water gets to work loosening me up. Until, I start envisioning Tucker a few doors down possibly in the shower, too.
Tucker. Naked. In the Shower. Naked and wet.
A small groan slips past my lips. Damn, what a visual. Stop, Adriana. No being attracted to him. Good luck with that, I tell myself. Sudsing up and rinsing off in record time, I jump out of the shower. Every touch has my overly sensitive body zinging, my nerves tingling.
Three bedrooms over is definitely not enough. But, how do I ex
plain that I need him to move?
Toweling off and throwing my clothes back on, I quickly get myself put back together. I desperately need some book time before my friends get here.
But, first, how to introduce Tucker to them? I promised him he’d be safe here. What if they don’t accept him? What if they want me to tell him to leave? Shoulders hunched, I head for Tucker’s room and knock on the door.
This could be a catastrophe.
Chapter Eight
Tucker
Standing in her living room, waiting by the screen door, I watch as her friends start to arrive. Her grand plan. She’ll tell them about me and then I’ll walk out to them accepting me like I’m just some everyday guy. Yeah right. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that her plan sucks.
3 Doors Down is pumping through the speakers. The irony isn’t lost on me that I’m only going to be staying three doors down from her tonight. Three doors. That’s all the space that will be separating me from her. God help me.
My eyes shift back to her on their own. Watch how she lights up when she sees them. I wish it was me making her light up like that.
What the hell? Are those…? I nearly give away my hiding spot when a laugh escapes my throat. I get it now. All the food. Her friends walk by, arms loaded with empty Rubber Maid containers. More food? Seriously? Adriana made enough to feed a small army.
Trying to keep myself from laughing again at the craziness going on in front of my eyes, I focus on the yard for a minute, wishing I had taken the time when I was out there earlier with Adriana. It’s exquisite. There’s a sprawling lawn of green grass off her deck that is actually three decks resting at different levels. Not far, maybe twenty feet from the deck, is a screened in patio where we’ll all be hanging out tonight. Adriana told me I’ll be thankful for the screening because, even though her yard is sprayed, there are lots of “nasty little fuckers that bite”. It was adorable how she wrinkled up her nose when she said it.
