To Be Your Wife

by Rae Kennedy

  I snatch the phone from her hand. “He’s a friend.”

  “Then why is he saying something about being in your bed?” She gives me a crooked smirk.

  Tuck: Was that an invitation to your bed?

  I roll my eyes. Of course that is the message Gracie would see.

  “You shouldn’t read other people’s texts,” I tell her.

  “I thought you weren’t dating anyone right now.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Sure, okay.” Gracie leaves and I reread Tuck’s text.

  My heart pounds when I think about how to respond. I want to say yes. But I can’t bring myself to type those three letters.

  Me: Maybe...

  * * *

  Christmas morning passes in a blur of laughter, coffee, wrapping paper, and cinnamon rolls. The cinnamon rolls remind me of the one I shared with Tuck.

  The fireplace roars all day. We nap. Nick sends me a picture of Gilbert in a tiny Santa hat. I sled and make snow angels with my nephews. We eat more, drink some, and work on a family puzzle in our pajamas until past dark.

  We all get to bed late.

  Only the moonlight streams in my window, casting a pale, shimmery light through my old, lacey curtains and onto the white quilt on my bed. Otherwise, the room is dark. The house is quiet except for the occasional creak and hiss of old pipes. Chimes ring purposefully from the living room downstairs up through the floorboards—my grandmother’s clock reminding me it is now midnight and I haven’t yet been asleep.

  Bright lights pass outside my window with the sound of grinding gravel and an engine being killed. Who would be driving here at this hour?

  My phone buzzes under my pillow.

  Tuck: Are you awake?

  Me: Did you just pull up to my house?

  Tuck: Maybe...

  I throw off the covers and run to my window. A little way down our drive is Tuck’s big red truck, and his tall figure walking toward the front door. Son of a bitch. I push on my window. Damn old windows are sticky. I finally slide it open when Tuck is right below.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper yell.

  He looks up at me with a grin, the moonlight reflecting on his breath. “You said you couldn’t sleep.” He puts his arms out. “So here I am.”

  The air outside is biting and my skin is prickling as I stand here in my sleep tank and tiny cotton shorts.

  “Are you going to let me in?”

  “My parents, Tuck! You really shouldn’t be here!”

  “I’m coming up.” He reaches easily to the lowest branch on our huge maple tree and hoists himself up then hops onto the roof of the front porch.

  Oh my god. He’s climbing up here.

  He holds onto the downspout and climbs up the side of my house like a freaking monkey. His large hand grasps at the windowsill and I back into my room as he pulls himself up and through and lands with a loud thud.

  “You have to be quiet!” I’m glad my dad is a heavy sleeper.

  “Sorry,” he whispers. He stands up nimbly and looks like a giant in my room with its low, angled ceilings. Tuck looks at my bare legs and I shiver. “Go get in bed. I’ll join you in a sec.” He shuts the window and I suddenly realize how chilled I am.

  He hangs his coat over the wooden rocking chair in the corner, then sits on it to remove his shoes and socks. When he stands and removes his shirt, the light through the curtain glistens over his pecs and thick arms.

  He undoes the button of his jeans and as he drops them to the floor, the beat in my chest quickens. He’s walking over to me in just his boxers and the heat from my chest rises through my neck to my face. Holy hell, Court, you’ve shared a bed with him a dozen times. Calm the eff down.

  He stands at the side of my bed, tall over me, and pulls the covers back with a crooked smile just big enough to engage his left dimple.

  “I missed you,” he says as he slides in next to me and I reach for him. He wraps his arms around me without hesitation.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too,” he says in my ear.

  His skin against mine warms me quickly as we embrace under the sheets. My pulse pounds in my ears and my lower stomach starts to swirl. My body is reacting positively to his closeness and I realize we’ve hugged before, but never in this state of undress. Or horizontally. In bed.

  Sharing a bed is entirely different now that I’ve acknowledged the butterflies.

  Shut it down, Court.

  “Well, goodnight.” I roll onto my back. His arm still brushing at my side. “Sorry this bed’s a little smaller than yours.”

  “I could get used to it.” The mattress dips as he shifts his weight to the side and stretches his arm over his head.

  For some reason, I don’t want to go to sleep yet.

  “Tuck—”

  “Yeah?”

  “I never asked you how your date went.”

  “Date?”

  “The night Haley got hurt.”

  “Oh yeah. It was good. She’s a nice girl.”

  My throat tightens. “Are you going to go out with her again?” Shit, maybe he already has.

  “Nah,” he says nonchalantly. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not ready to date yet.”

  Oh.

  Tuck’s chest is soon rising and falling steadily, his breath slow, snoring softly into my pillow.

  But I’m awake.

  I’ve been awake. And the clock downstairs chimes one o’clock.

  I try to focus on the cadence of his sleep, but the energy under my skin and the flutter in my stomach is too distracting. The tug below my belly button aches. It’s insistent. How long has it been since I’ve had sex? For-fucking-ever.

  Every bulge and dip in Tuck’s sculpted arms are silhouetted against the window and his musky scent is in my sheets. What if he wanted to do more than sleep? What would I do then?

  If he rolled over right now and whispered in my ear that he wanted to kiss me, would I let him? Would I let his hands roam down my back, to curve around my hip and graze down my thigh?

  Yes. Yes, I think I would let him.

  My inner thighs are tingling and I squeeze them together to hold still.

  My clit is starting to throb, and I know the only way to subdue it. I can’t. Tuck is right next to me. What if he were to wake up and see me? See me touching myself, knowing I’m thinking about him?

  Oh god, I can’t. But I inch my fingertips under the waistband of my shorts and then under the satin of my panties, holding my breath as I slide a finger between my folds. I’m already slick as I rock against my hand. I trace my finger up to my clit and the pleasure of my slow strokes sends little jolts of electricity down to the arches of my feet.

  My heart is racing and my cheeks are hot. Tuck’s shoulder twitches and his breath catches. I still my hand. Is he awake? I’m still pulsing under my fingertip, heat radiating, begging for more.

  His soft snore resumes. I try to continue rubbing without rustling the sheets, but as the pleasure starts to wrack my body, my hand becomes more frenzied, my breathing heavier, and I’m afraid I’ll wake him. Maybe I want to wake him. Spread my legs for him and let him watch me touch myself. Maybe he would like that. Maybe he would reach out and want to touch me too. The thought of Tuck’s large hand exploring my eager wetness makes my orgasm spill over the edge. My hips jerk with the waves of ecstasy and I am left spent.

  CHAPTER 9

  When I wake, the sun is already low in the sky. Tuck is next to me, unmoved from last night, heavy in slumber, his breathing deep and steady.

  The metallic sound of pots and pans clank from the kitchen below along with low muffled voices.

  “Tuck,” I try to whisper.

  He is still.

  “Tuuuck,” I say it louder this time and poke his shoulder blade. His skin is smooth and warm.

  He jumps with a snort and rolls over languidly toward me. “Mornin.’” He yawns as he rubs the side of his face and blinks his eyes open. “How’d you sle
ep?”

  “Amazingly.”

  He smiles sleepily. “Then my work here is accomplished.”

  “Yep, and I appreciate it, but now I have to ask you to leave.” The muffled voices from downstairs are multiplying. “Out the window.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” There’s a creak from the stairs just past my door. “Like, right now.”

  “Okay.”

  I’m grateful Tuck doesn’t look offended or upset by my less than polite dismissal. He dresses quickly, though not as quietly as I’d like.

  He gives me a hug and then with an extra devious grin, says, “See you soon,” as he climbs back out my window.

  * * *

  As I walk downstairs, my nephews race across my path with high-pitched laughter. The sizzling aroma of bacon is everywhere, and Gracie is humming from the kitchen. My dad and brothers are setting the table and Emily is resting on the couch, absentmindedly rubbing her swollen belly as she reads the paper. Nora must have stayed home with the baby.

  There is a knock at the door and Eric runs to get it.

  “Wes is a little early,” Jack comments.

  “Well, he can join us for breakfast before we head out to work,” my dad says.

  “I’ll get another plate.” Charlie walks toward the kitchen.

  “Morning,” Gracie says in a singsong voice as I enter the kitchen. She is setting the bacon on a plate of paper towels and my mom is pulling fresh buttermilk biscuits out of the oven.

  “Court!” Eric calls from the foyer. “You have a visitor.”

  Mom and Gracie simultaneously turn to look at me with confusion.

  Oh. No.

  They follow me out to where the rest of the family has already gathered.

  Tuck is standing in the middle of the entryway, all teeth and dimples.

  He winks at me. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” I simply stand and blink, not sure what to say.

  “Honey, are you going to introduce us?” my mom asks.

  “Uh, yeah.” My throat is dry. “Everyone, this is my friend, Tucker.”

  His left dimple deepens when I say his full name.

  Tuck steps over to my mom, taking her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Missus—”

  “It’s Beverly. You can call me Bev.”

  “Bev, you can call me Tuck.”

  Is he flirting with my mom?

  Over Mom’s shoulder, Gracie gives me sideways a grin. “Tuck?”

  I try not to glare at her for being so giddy.

  Dad comes up next to my mom.

  “And this is my dad—”

  “Tom,” he says as he shakes Tuck’s hand firmly. Dad looks Tuck up and down. He’s not used to being around someone taller than him, but he’s still twice as wide.

  “Good to meet you, sir.”

  My dad claps Tuck on the shoulder. “How ‘bout you join us for breakfast.”

  “Oh, I don’t think he wants to—” I try to cut in.

  “I’d love to,” Tuck says enthusiastically.

  Mom and Gracie head back to the kitchen while my brothers follow my dad back to the table.

  “This should be fun,” Eric says under his breath as he passes me.

  Angus trots over to Tuck, who kneels to scratch him behind the ear. The old hound flops onto his side, his tail thudding on the floor with delight.

  “Hey mister!” My six-year-old nephew, Forrest, runs up to Tuck. The four-year-old, Ryder, close behind. “You’re really tall. Do you want to be in our club?”

  “Sure. What does your club do?”

  “We fight monsters!”

  “Monsters?” Tuck stands up with his hands out like claws and he starts growling and stomping toward the boys.

  They run and squeal, making their hands into little guns and pretending to blast at the giant monster.

  * * *

  Forrest and Ryder insist on sitting on either side of Tuck during breakfast—which they miraculously stay put through instead of running off five minutes in like usual.

  Tuck helps himself to seconds, pulling apart a fluffy biscuit then smothering it with creamy sausage gravy.

  “So, Tuck,” my dad starts, “did you and Courtney meet at school, then?”

  “No, I graduated a few years ago. I’m a junior associate at Hudson and Bailey Law.”

  “A lawyer, huh? Suppose I’ll have to let that slide since my brother is a lawyer too. Do you live in the city then?”

  “No, I bought and fixed up a little house near the university.”

  “You’re a homeowner...that’s good.” My dad scratches his chin.

  “If you don’t go to the university, how did you meet then?” my mom asks.

  “His sister, Haley, and I had a class together this semester and we became friends,” I interject. I silently beg for the tirade of questions to stop. But Tuck is nonplussed.

  “We got to know one another when she let me tag along with her running,” he adds.

  “Hey, I thought you didn’t like anyone to run with you?” Eric chimes in.

  “She doesn’t. You must be very special,” Gracie says to Tuck with a giant grin.

  Shut up, Gracie.

  We are just about done eating when the front door creaks open.

  “Mornin’ everybody,” Wes says as he walks into the dining room.

  “Great timing, we’re about ready to get to work,” my dad says, standing.

  My brothers get up too and start carrying plates to the kitchen.

  “Perfect,” Wes says, then his gaze lands on Tuck and I’m not sure what he’s thinking.

  “Hey, this is my friend, Tuck.”

  Tuck stands and walks over to Wes with his hand outstretched.

  “Tuck, this is Wes,” I say.

  Tuck raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth creeping up.

  I steady a glare at him. Yes, my ex-boyfriend, Wes. Now stop being so obvious.

  Tuck turns to Wes and they shake hands vigorously. “Wes, Court’s mentioned you, it’s nice to meet you.”

  “She hasn’t mentioned you.” Wes puffs his chest out. “You must be a new friend.”

  I don’t miss his emphasis on the word new or how his eyes shoot to me as he says it.

  Fuck.

  * * *

  After the guys head to the barn to saddle the horses, Tuck excuses himself as well, thanking my mom for breakfast and her hospitality.

  “When are you heading back to school?” he asks, standing on the front porch.

  “I’ll be back before New Year’s.”

  “Can’t wait for you to kick my ass running again.”

  “You haven’t been running?”

  He gives me an apologetic look and shrugs.

  “Oh, Tucker.”

  What will I do with him?

  We say goodbye and I watch him get into his truck before I go back inside.

  “He’s cute,” Gracie says as soon as I close the door.

  “He is a handsome young man,” my mom adds from behind, still drying her enormous iron skillet. “You two are just...friends?”

  “We are just friends. I swear.”

  “Oh good.” The relief on my mom’s face is clear. It’s strangely deflating.

  I go up to my room. There’s a notification on my phone and I immediately hope it’s from Tuck.

  Haley: Are you still home for break or have you come back in town yet?

  Me: Still here at home, everything okay?

  Haley: I could just use a friend to talk to...Cade.

  Me: I was going to head back in a couple days, but I’ll leave in the morning.

  The idea of heading back early has me so excited I start packing right away.

  * * *

  “I slept with Cade.”

  The warm and sticky piece of cinnamon roll I just popped in my mouth almost falls out. “What? When? Tell me everything.”

  She tells me how Cade has been trying to woo her back these last two weeks since she’s been home from the hospita
l. She’s denied him but they spent last night together and now she’s a confused, hot mess.

  “I thought you were crazy about him,” I say.

  “I am.”

  “And Tuck said he’s okay with you two dating?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the sex is...?”

  “Fucking fantastic.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t know.” She sits for a moment, picking at her eggs Benedict, but not eating it. “I’m scared, okay? He left me. He hurt me so much I don’t know if I can trust him. What if he hurts me again? I don’t think I can take it.”

  I take a sip of my second grapefruit mimosa. It’s tart and bubbly. “Maybe he will. But what if he doesn’t? Wouldn’t that be worth the risk?”

  She sighs. “It’s the risk that’s scary. I can’t love him without being completely vulnerable to him again.”

  “Isn’t that the only way to love?” Whoa, I’ve had too much champagne. I like to offer counsel to friends and family, but I’m starting to sound like a self-help book.

  I’m also sounding like a total hypocrite—telling Haley she should take a chance on love and allow herself to be vulnerable. I haven’t let myself be vulnerable to a relationship in four years.

  With guys, I’m always the one in control. If we decide to get physical, it’s always on my terms. And when it’s time to move on, I’m the one to end it. I haven’t even been close to falling in love, but I haven’t been hurt either.

  Haley finally takes a bite of her eggs, but she isn’t enjoying them. “Enough about me. I haven’t seen you in a couple weeks. Anything new with you?”

  “New?”

  This might be a good time to tell her I’ve been sleeping with Tuck. Will she believe we’ve just been sleeping?

  “Nope,” I say.

  * * *

  I knock on the door, Chinese food in hand. I hope they don’t mind me popping over with dinner unannounced. I was going to text Tuck that I came back to town early but the idea of seeing his face light up in surprise won me over. I bounce on the balls of my feet as I wait.

  Haley opens the door.

  Her nose is red, eyes puffy. Her eyelashes are still wet, clinging together.

  “What happened?”

  I step in, immediately putting my arm around her shoulders and we walk to the couch. When we had parted after brunch, she was exuberant and ready to get back together with Cade. I was a little worried I might interrupt them still making up—like rabbits.