by Renee Dyer
She grabs the paper and starts reading it. I want to take it back. Not just the paper, but what I wrote. I hadn’t written much, but it was clearly stated that I was leaving. And now that she read that, she knows. It’s what’s best, but it doesn’t mean it’s what I want. Fuck.
The paper is covering her face so I don’t have an inkling of what she may be thinking. I wish I could see her face so I could see if I totally messed up or not. Maybe she was coming to ask me to leave. Maybe she came to the same conclusion I had, that me being here isn’t a good idea.
What if she’s been feeling the spark and was coming to see if I’ve been feeling it too and she found me saying goodbye? What if I just crushed her? Shit!
Slapping the paper onto the desk, she eyes me. Grayness clouding her eyes. Yep, I fucked up.
“A note, Tucker, really? Is that how things are handled in Hollywood?” I don’t know how to answer her, so I say nothing, too afraid of making things worse. “I thought I was helping you. If you really don’t want to stay here and have a good reason to leave then that’s fine, but the way things work here is we talk about it like adults. Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes. Should give you time to get showered and be ready to talk, right?”
She’s staring me down even though I’m well over a foot taller than her. She’s folded her arms over her chest. I’m sure as a way of protecting herself after she opened up and let me stay here. Her eyes are asking me why, but I know I can’t answer that honestly. She’s not ready to hear that I want her. In so many ways. That me staying here means I’ll eventually try to get into her bed. Try to ask her for things she isn’t ready for. Hurt her. I can’t tell her that in one day I felt more for her than the woman I was with for almost two years.
“Yeah. I’ll be down in twenty minutes.”
“Fine. If you really want to leave after we talk, then I’ll hold the door open for you and I won’t even let it hit you on the ass on the way out.” She turns and walks out, closing the door behind her, not slamming it like I would have done. I swear I hear her mutter, “Why do you want him to stay?” But, again, I think I hear what I want to hear.
Chapter Fifteen
Adriana
A note? A Goddamn, motherfucking note? That’s what he was going to leave? To tell me he was leaving. Was he going to wait till I was taking a piss and run for it? How did he think this was going to work?
Trying to calm down, trying to understand why I’m even so angry, I go back to the kitchen to make some fresh squeezed orange juice and check on the quiche in the oven. Last night I had made up my mind to ask him to leave, but this morning seeing that note changed everything.
I couldn’t go through with it.
My heart lurched in my chest when I saw him sitting at the desk– pen in hand, paper lying there. I knew what he was doing and I wanted to scream “NO” at him. Tell him the first time I had felt alive in close to a year and a half was yesterday, when he came into my life. But, that would make him run even faster.
What was I going to do if he decided to leave?
I didn’t want to go back to being numb. Numb to everything around me except the pain. The pain of losing Alex. Oh God. Alex.
How can I be so upset about Tucker when I love Alex? I’m in love with Alex. It must be because I’ve been without his touch for so long. That has to be it. I’m craving the contact.
Then why did none of the guys from the dating site affect you like this?
The thought runs through my mind before I can stop it. Guilt swamps me. If Alex can see me, I know he can see this. Can see me being attracted to another man and I know it will hurt him. I have to bite my lip to keep myself from crying out.
I should have let Tucker leave like he wanted to. Why did I make a scene? Guilt eats at me for being attracted to Tucker. For wanting him here. For hurting Alex. Guilt eats at me for knowing I won’t be able to give Tucker anything. How I hope he doesn’t want anything.
Of course he doesn’t. He’s a fucking movie star. He could have any woman he wants. The last thing he’d do is look for a woman in the sticks of New Hampshire.
Feeling a little better, I go about making the OJ.
*****************************
I’m humming Seether’s Broken when Tucker walks into the kitchen. I didn’t hear him enter, but the tingling in my spine tells me he’s there. His presence fills the space in a way I can’t explain. My mouth goes dry and I’m glad that I still have a couple oranges to finish up, needing a minute to gain my composure.
Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth a couple times, I tell him over my shoulder that breakfast has a few more minutes. I notice his discomfort and curt response and instantly miss the easy flow we had the day before.
Cutting a slice off the orange, I turn and bring it to his mouth without thinking and before I can stop myself. Surprise flickers through his eyes. “Best oranges in town.” I hear the longing in my voice, the strain and need. I hope he doesn’t hear it, too.
He puts his hand over mine, holding it there while he eats the orange and sucks the juice from the rind. Holy shit I think I could have an orgasm right here, right now. His eyes never leave mine and I blush thinking he may know what I was thinking.
“I’m sorry if I was rude to you upstairs. You’re not a prisoner here, Tucker. Free to go whenever you please.” I go to walk away, but he holds onto my wrist. I turn back to him, feeling an intensity I haven’t felt in so long. He’s looking down at me. I see some of the juice from the orange glistening on his lower lip and have the urge to lick it off. I have to stifle a moan. I bring my eyes to his and I’m stuck there. Paralyzed.
His hand is still wrapped around my wrist. The heat from his hand pulsing though me. His eyes bore into mine. All I can think about is licking the juice from his lip. If he would just kiss me I could still get that juice. How I wish I was daring enough to kiss him.
I can see a war going on in his eyes and I wish I knew what he was thinking. Wish I had more experience with men. His head lowers fractionally. This is it. I think we’re on the same page. I start to raise up on my toes. A charge of electricity is sparking back and forth between us. I think I can hear his heart beating in rhythm with mine.
Before our lips can meet. Before I can close my eyes, revel in the pressure of his lips on mine, the sweetness of the juice in my mouth, the timer on my oven goes off, breaking the spell we were in.
He releases my wrist. I watch as his tongue sweeps across his lower lip, wiping away the remnants of juice. I’m so jealous and way too focused on his mouth. The smile that crosses his face tells me he knows exactly where my mind is at.
I would kill to know where his is.
“Damn good orange,” he says licking his lip again.
I’m trying to ignore the ache between my legs as I grab potholders. I can feel his eyes following me.
“Food smells amazing.” His voice is vibrating through my body. I don’t know why my body is conspiring against me this morning, but I really want it to stop before I embarrass myself. Panties damp, core aching, and nipples hard, I’m glad my back is to him. I need a few moments to compose myself.
What the hell is going on with me? I’m like an animal in heat.
Pulling the quiches from the oven, I allow myself a second to drink in the scents of the food. Get lost in the combinations of smells filling the air. I love cooking and the calm it brings me.
Feeling Tucker directly behind me brings my body fully alert. I stand straight and turn around. Like yesterday, he’s in my personal space. He looks like he’s hungry and I’m on the menu.
“Anything I can help you with, sweetness?” There are so many ways I could answer that question, but none are appropriate. I try to say something, but words allude me. Staring into his blue eyes, all I can think is I want to grab onto his hair that’s still wet from his shower, pull him to me, and kiss him. Lose myself in him for a while.
“Plates and forks,” I rasp out. I don’t recognize
the voice that left my lips. It’s low and sexy. Not my voice at all. My inner sex kitten is trying to paw her way out.
The smile, full dimples, he throws at me has me all but throwing myself at him, asking him to take me right here in my kitchen. I have to mentally slap myself in the face. I point to where things are, not trusting what will come out of my mouth for a minute or two, and grab a knife to cut the food.
“Hope you like quiche. Thought you could use a filling breakfast.” Did I just say “filling”? Oh my God! The word alone has me thinking about what he has packing in his jeans and I feel a blush creep to my cheeks. “Ahh, one’s ham and bacon and the other’s zucchini and tomato.”
“Sounds delicious,” he says standing before me with plates and forks in hand. The beaming smile on his face takes my breath away. He really is gorgeous.
“Which one?”
“Yep.” He smiles broadly at me and I smile back, enjoying that our easy banter is back. It’s like I’ve known him for years instead of hours. Still smiling, I cut him a large piece of both, my breath catching as our hands touch for a passing second while he’s handing me the plates. I swear he feels it, too.
***************************
Over breakfast I ask the question I’m dreading, why he’s leaving. He tells me it’s to protect me. To keep me from fighting with my friends. I tell him that’s sweet, but there’s nothing to protect me from. His squirming tells me there’s more that he’s not willing to tell me. I can’t force him to talk to me. I can’t force him to stay. I wish I could. I wish so many things that are out of my control.
Breakfast goes on. We talk about funny things that have happened to him on set and in public. Crazy things people think they can do simply because he’s famous. He seems so relaxed when we talk, so open. I expected something so different than this down to earth guy who’s sitting across the table from me.
I tell him some of the antics my siblings and I played on our parents over the years and bask in the sound of his laughter. Let it roll over me. The sound vibrates through my body, starting at my toes and working its way up. Warmth crawling through me.
As much as I’m enjoying our breakfast, I don’t want it to end. Tucker hasn’t said if he’s going to stay or leave. Dread fills me as I think of facing the thought of saying goodbye to him.
It shouldn’t matter. I barely know him. In my head, I know that. But my heart… my heart feels confused between the love it feels for the man I’ve loved my whole life and this man I want to know sitting across from me.
Do I want to know him? What is it I’m looking for? Why do I want Tucker to stay?
“Penny for your thoughts,” Tucker’s sexy voice breaks through my thoughts and I look straight into his eyes. Get lost in the storm brewing there. What thoughts were rolling around in his head while I was lost in mine?
Answering him as honestly as I can, I say, “I was thinking about saying goodbye to you.” I hear the sadness in my voice and hope that he doesn’t. I don’t want to guilt him into staying, but I don’t want him to leave either. I don’t want Alex hurt either. I don’t know what to do. I can’t think of a time in my life I’ve ever been so confused.
“I’m trying to do what’s best for you, Adriana.” I hear something in his voice that I can’t explain. A pleading for me to understand, but I don’t. My friends were fine with him staying after I told them how things were going to be. Everyone was great with him, accepted him.
What changed while he was outside alone last night? I’ve replayed our talk over and over and can’t think of anything I said to upset him. Did one of my friends come back and say something to him? Would he tell me if they did?
“Tucker,” I say, keeping his gaze and trying to keep my cool. “I appreciate you wanting to do what’s best for me, but you barely know me. Shouldn’t you trust me to know what’s best for me?”
The confusion in his eyes fuels my fire. I feel like I’m gaining ground and I may have found a way to get through to him.
“If I thought you shouldn’t be here then I wouldn’t have asked you to stay. But, I did ask you to stay. I want you to stay.” I’m a little breathless. I can hear it and don’t like it, but it’s too late to change how I sound.
“Why?”
It’s one word, but there’s so much emotion in it and I’m not sure what he means by it. He’s staring at me intently. So much hope and fear I think I see on his face. I want to hold him. Tell him I can make him feel better. But that’s silly. He would never let me do that.
“Why what, Tucker?” I’m so confused around him. I can’t think straight.
“Why do you want me to stay?” Such a simple question for him to ask, but there are so many answers going through my mind. I can’t tell him everything going on in my head or he’ll run for the hills. I’ll appear to him to be another crazy fan and I told him he’s safe here. He is. He is safe here.
I want to look away from his penetrating eyes, afraid he’ll see my inappropriate thoughts. But, I keep my head up, gazing into his eyes. Those blue eyes that I want to fall into every time he glances my way.
“There’s a couple reasons,” I start, licking my suddenly dry lips. I notice he watches my mouth and it causes me to ache in my panties all over again. It’s definitely been too long.
“One. Tucker, I asked you to stay because I felt like you needed a break. You needed someone to see that you were hurting and needed some privacy to think. I wanted to give you the time you needed to have you time.”
I can see he’s about to start arguing with me. He wants to tell me that he can go anywhere. I understand that he’s rich and can hop on a plane. That he has the option to travel the world, but he can’t truly go anywhere and not be pestered. He can stay in my house, I can run errands for him, and he CAN be left alone.
“I wasn’t finished yet. Please, let me finish.” He gives me a small smile. I’m losing the fight here and my heart feels like it’s breaking. “At first it was just about helping you, but you being here is helping me, too.” My voice gets quieter when I say this and I do break eye contact now. I can’t believe I just admitted that.
He can see my unease. It’s all over his face. I see him open and close his mouth a few times, unsure what to say to me. Damn. I’m screwing this up.
Voice hardly above a whisper, I try to explain again. “I… uh… well, I haven’t handled things… um… so great since Alex… um… since Alex died. I couldn’t even say his name before yesterday.” I lose my train of thought as he gets up from his chair and walks over to me, kneeling down in front of me. He takes my hands in his and stares into my eyes again.
“You don’t have to do this, Adriana. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.” No, I wasn’t trying to guilt him. He’s agreeing for the wrong reason. I need to finish. Now.
“Tucker, please let me finish. I don’t want you to stay because you feel guilty.” I keep looking at him, needing him to see the truth in my eyes. I’m not one of those women. The type to manipulate a man into getting what she wants.
“I couldn’t say Alex’s name before yesterday without panicking. I couldn’t touch people because they weren’t him.” It isn’t lost on me that he’s still holding my hands and I’m relishing in the heat from his hands. “But, when you asked me about him, even though it hurt, I was still able to breathe. I thought before if I talked about him it would crush me. That I’d stop breathing. I don’t know why you helped me, Tucker, but you did.”
I can feel the heat in my cheeks. Know my cheeks are pink. I’m having a hard time with all I’ve told him. Admitting my vulnerability.
“Okay.” That’s all he says. Him and his one word question and answers. They always leave me with more questions. Okay, he understands what I’m trying to say, or okay, he’ll stay?
I’m about to ask when he raises my hands to his mouth and kisses both of them. My breath hitches and my panties dampen. How does something so simple make me want to knock him over on the floor, strip him down, and have my way wi
th him right here?
“You amaze me, Adriana. You’ve lost so much and yet you still give so much. If what you want is for me to stay, then I’ll stay. I only hope it doesn’t end up being the wrong choice.” The pain in his eyes is upsetting to see. I don’t know who he thinks it would be the wrong choice for. Him or me.
Taking one of my hands out of his, I run my hand along his jaw, feel the tickle from his stubble. Apparently he didn’t get to shave because he knew I was upset by the letter he had started writing to me. Speaking of the letter. I wasn’t going to bring it up. But…
“Why were you going to leave me a letter, Tucker?” I try to hide the pain in my voice, but know I fail miserably. It does hurt that he didn’t think I deserved for him to tell me to my face.
“I’m sorry. I knew it would hurt you that I was leaving after you defended me staying here, but I couldn’t see the pain on your face.” He pauses and looks at the floor, but this time I pull his face up to look at me. I want to see what he’s thinking. What he’s feeling. The raw honesty there melts my heart. Has me falling into a place I didn’t think possible. Caring. “I didn’t want to see the pain I knew I would put on your face. I’m really sorry. I was a coward.”
I can’t respond. It feels like my throat has closed. My thumb is rubbing his cheek and I don’t remember it ever starting to move. He lowers his cheek into my embrace.
Breathe, Adriana.
At this moment, more than anything else, I want to lower myself to my knees, get on the floor at his level, and wrap him in my arms. I wish I knew if he wanted that too. Yes, he’s holding my hand. And yes, he’s letting me rub his cheek, but maybe he sees me as someone he wants to be friends with. I’m not confident enough in the ways of men and women to know what this all means.
