by Rae Kennedy
“No, of course you should go.”
He lifts his eyes to mine. “Yeah?”
“How lovely,” my mom chimes as she walks in from the kitchen. “Will you stay for supper after?” she asks, looking at Tuck hopefully.
“Yes. I’m very much looking forward to it.”
“Great!” My mother smiles between us. “Court can help me in the kitchen.”
I’d rather go fishing.
* * *
Tuck walks in with my dad a few hours later. Forrest is rambling nonstop next to Tuck about his fish. Ryder is on Jack’s shoulders.
I set the last plate on the table as Forrest runs up to me and Gracie.
“Where’s your fish?” she asks him.
He looks at her with a furrowed brow. “In the pond.”
“Oh. Did you still have fun?” I ask.
“Yep,” Forrest says with his chin high. “Hey, Auntie Court—can I tell you a secret?”
“Of course.”
He crooks his finger toward me and gestures for me to come close. I kneel and he whispers in my ear.
“I have a new best friend.” He looks from side to side cautiously. “His name is Tuck. Don’t tell Ryder.”
I pull my fingers across my lips to mimic zipping them shut. He smiles and runs off.
“No fish for you either?” I ask Jack and Tuck, since they are also empty-handed, as Jack lets Ryder down to chase after Forrest.
Tuck kisses my cheek. He’s warm and he smells like sunshine and salt.
“It wasn’t really about getting fish,” my dad says as he claps a hand on both Jack and Tuck’s shoulders. “We would have gone earlier in the day and not brought two rowdy little boys if that were the case.”
Mom hollers from the kitchen for some help with the food and Tuck and Jack disappear through the doorway to the kitchen.
“It was more about getting to know each other,” my dad says in a lower voice now that we are alone.
I might need to apologize to Tuck later.
“I’m glad Tucker was able to come.” He lays a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. But you and I need to talk, too.”
I swallow a shaky breath and we both sit. The old, worn wood chairs suddenly feel too rigid, too hard, and I have to sit too straight.
“It’s hard for me—" Dad clears his throat, looking at his large, weathered hands for a second before continuing, “—to think of you as a woman instead of my little girl, but I know you are all grown up. Heck, when we were your age, your mother and I were already married with a baby.” He looks up at me, I can barely make out his small smile behind his beard. “I’m proud of the woman you are and your mother and I trust you.”
“Thanks Dad.”
“That being said, I made it clear to Tucker that there will be no more climbing in the window or sneaky sleepovers under our roof.”
I nod. “Okay, sorry Dad.”
He puts a calloused hand over mine, his brown eyes warm. “Your mom and I think Tuck is a fine young man. He’s respectful and cares about family and we support your relationship.”
The back of my throat is starting to sting.
* * *
Throughout dinner, Tuck keeps hold of my hand.
Jack tells Tuck about his and my dad’s favorite fishing spot, which is a little farther away than the one they went to today. My dad insists that’s where they will go next time and invites Tuck along. The invitation is casual but Tuck smiles wide and squeezes my hand. Forrest yells about how quiet he will be on the next fishing trip.
Angus is lying happily between Tuck and Ryder’s chairs, his tail thumping sporadically.
My dad compliments dinner as he goes in for seconds. Tuck passes him the dish of creamed corn but even after my dad has retrieved the bowl, Tuck watches him. Actually, his eyes are on both my parents.
I try to see what he is seeing. My dad brushes copper-colored hair behind my mom’s ear. She smiles as he whispers something to her. Her hand rests lightly on his forearm. He kisses her cheek. Her pale skin pinks under her freckles.
The front door creaks and slams shut.
“Is there still food?” Eric yells from the hall.
“You’re too late!” Jack returns.
“Oh, hush.” Mom shoots Jack a look as Eric busies himself with filling his plate.
“Do you have big family dinners every day?” Tuck asks when my mom sits back down.
“Oh, no. We usually have a big family supper on Sundays, but during the week everybody is so busy we rarely get together more than a few nights,” she says with a sigh.
“That sounds nice. I wish my mom lived nearby,” Tuck replies. “Not that she’s much into family dinners.”
“No?”
“Nah. She never cooked much to begin with, but after my dad died, she took a second job and was rarely around during dinnertime. My sister and I were mostly on our own.”
She looks at him with a furrow in her brow. “You are welcome to dinner over here any time. Always.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course, son,” my dad adds.
Tuck glances at me with a small smile. He’s holding my hand so tight and I’m reminded he’s leaving after dinner and it feels so wrong. I want him here always.
* * *
After grabbing a few things at the store for my mom Wednesday afternoon, I decide to walk over to the elementary school. I need to get some measurements so I can start planning how I want to use and decorate the space. I’m hoping to get some craft supplies while I visit Tuck this weekend.
I glance down the street when I’m a couple blocks away from the school to catch a glimpse of the haunted house. That’s what we called it when we were kids, anyway. I know now it was owned by the Harrington family, but the couple that lived there passed away when I was in middle school, I believe, and any other relatives aren’t around. I think it’s been abandoned for at least ten years.
It sits on the corner with a large yard, but I can barely see the house because of the overgrown bushes and trees.
The light blue paint is faded and chipped and the roof is moss-covered and partially collapsed over the porch. But the porch is lovely. It spans the entire length of the house with wide steps to the front door and thick white columns that sit on large stone bases. The windows are tall and three brick chimneys peak out beyond the roof lines.
I always wanted to sneak into it as a kid. I imagined what it was like inside—if there were secret passageways or if there was a dungeon. Some kids thought someone was locked away in the top of the three-story turret. The haunted house was basically a legend.
I continue to the school and greet Patty on my way in. She’s the head secretary, and the only person in the building today.
On my way back to my jeep, classroom measurements in hand, I notice something at the haunted house I didn’t before. A white sign in the yard.
It doesn’t look like a ‘For Sale’ sign. I turn and walk down the block.
The sidewalks are buckled from the large trees along the street, which also provide so much shade, it feels ten degrees cooler than it did in town. Everything is green and lush and smells like grass.
I reach the sign at the edge of the property and it reads: ‘Notice of Demolition.’
When I ask my dad about it that night at dinner, he says he doesn’t know anything about it, but Uncle Mick probably does.
* * *
The afternoon sun is warm on my shoulders as I stroll down Third Street. The white brick building to my right houses the post office and a few storefronts. I pass the insurance office owned by Howard Johnson and his son, Todd, and enter the next door.
A little bell dings as the door swings and Uncle Mick looks up from his desk. His eyes crinkle behind his wire-framed reading glasses.
“Courtney, what can I do you for?” He takes off his glasses and motions for me to have a seat.
His desk is huge and covered with files and stacks of papers
, only a small square of clear space is left in the middle where he can work. The walls are lined with tall brown file cabinets and it smells like coffee and old books.
“I was wondering if you knew anything about the Harrington house being torn down.”
He tilts his head and looks surprised at my question. His mouth turns down as he speaks.
“The bank has owned that property for a long time but they haven’t been able to sell it. Even when they kept dropping the price. Heck, they were basically asking the value of the land, but no takers. They figured, with it so close to town and zoned for residential as well as commercial, it’d be worth more if they tore down the house and just sold the lot. I know Jerry on the city council and he told me they’ve been turning down the bank’s petitions to tear it down for years. It was finally approved last month. It’s a damn shame.”
“Yeah. I always loved that house. So it’s not for sale anymore?”
He rubs his chin. “Having a house demolished and hauled away is a hassle and an expense on its own. I’d hazard a guess if the bank received an agreeable offer, they’d be happy to have it off their hands.” He looks at me quizzically. “Are you saying you want to buy it?”
“No.” I shake my head, laughing. “It’s way too big of a project for me, and probably more than I could afford, anyway.” Seeing as my budget is currently nothing. “It just made me a little sad when I saw it was getting torn down. I guess it had me thinking about how we take for granted that something will always be there, and that nothing is permanent.”
* * *
Friday after repairing fence on the ranch all morning, I am hot and sweaty. I take a cold shower, pack my bag, make myself a sandwich, then jump in my Jeep. The top is down, the sun is shining and I am ready to blast some music and drive the two hours to Tuck’s house.
I don’t even make it to the end of the driveway.
I have trouble getting the engine to turn and when I finally do, it revs when I push the gas but doesn’t accelerate. I’m sputtering in second gear.
Charlie offers me a tow to the repair shop. It needs a new transmission.
I huff out a sigh as I call Tuck.
“Is everything all right?” He sounds concerned.
When he’s at work, I usually only text him so I don’t interrupt anything. My call obviously has taken him by surprise.
“I can’t drive to your house tonight. My car is in the shop and there isn’t another vehicle here I can take for the whole weekend.”
“That sucks.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to see you so badly.”
“No, I meant about your car. You’ll see me. I’ll pick you up.”
“Really? That’s a lot of driving. You coming here from the city and then back to your place is almost a six-hour drive. That’s too much, I mean, are you sure?”
“Court, when I told you I would do anything to make this relationship work, I meant it. Driving a few extra hours is low on the list of sacrifices I would make for you.”
* * *
I sway in the porch swing barefoot, sandals long ago kicked to the floor. My legs are also bare in my floral sundress and I’m glad they’re starting to look tanned.
The sun is setting as Tuck’s red truck pulls up the gravel drive and my stomach does flips inside my body. As soon as he steps out, silhouetted against the pink and orange sky, I slip into my shoes and run toward him.
He wraps me in his arms and lifts me, squeezing tight. I crush my lips to his and as soon as I’m hit with his scent and taste, I realize how much I’ve missed him.
“Thank you again for coming to get me,” I say, out of breath when we break the kiss.
“You say that like I’m doing you a favor. My reasons are purely selfish.” He gives me a devilish smirk, and his large hand on my back slides down my spine. “But I can think of several ways you can thank me some more when we get to my place.” He winks at me and walks me to the truck then helps me in.
Half an hour into the drive and the sky has turned from orange to purple to dark blue and soon the stars will be out. There are hardly any other cars on the two-lane highway and land stretches out on either side into the distance where only the occasional light from faraway houses punctuate the darkness.
Tuck is telling me about his week and I wish this truck wasn’t so big. I’m too far away from him. I want to touch him and feel the warmth of his body against my side. I’m dying to kiss him and I hate that there is still an hour and a half drive ahead of us.
He smiles at me and I realize I’ve missed the last of what he just said. “Court?”
“Yeah?” Focus, Court.
“You looked far off. What are you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about how much I want to kiss you.”
“Oh really?” His smile widens, showing a hint of teeth.
He shifts a little in his seat and he briefly presses the palm of his hand to the crotch of his shorts, adjusting himself.
“Are you hard?” Just thinking about what’s behind his zipper has me needy.
A low laugh vibrates from his chest. “Yes. I’ve been thinking about you all day and then you’re wearing that dress.” His last word almost comes out as a moan and he moves in his seat again.
Warmth spreads through my body as my heart starts to pump wildly. I unbuckle my seatbelt.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
I lean over the center console and reach for his fly.
I pull down the zipper and slip my hand inside, finding his cock, large, hot, and ready for me. I ease his erection out of his shorts and he groans, “Oh fuck.”
I admire the length of him in my hand for a minute. It is pink and smooth, the skin pulled taut as it continues to grow and harden for me. I softly kiss the tip and it jerks.
“See, I’m just kissing you,” I say as innocently as I can.
I kiss it again. Soft, then firm. When I lick it from the base to the top with my flattened tongue, Tuck lets out a shaky breath.
I take him in my mouth slowly, inch by inch as deep as I can take him without gagging, which, given his sizable length, is less than I wish. I squeeze the rest of him with my fist. His hand is in my hair, gently massaging my head and neck.
He’s moaning now between saying things like, “That feels so good,” and “I love you. You’re amazing,” and “Oh my god. Oh holy-fucking-shit.”
His hips are pumping into my mouth now as I suck on him harder, bobbing up and down faster, fisting the base. His fat cock is red and wet and I am hot, the ache between my legs a constant throb.
His fingers trail down my back and he gathers the fabric of my dress, pulling the skirt up to my waist, exposing my bare ass. My lace thong is so minuscule I might as well be naked and the rush of air against my pussy lets me know how wet I am. My thighs are tingling, my clit pulsing and engorged. He palms my ass and I groan around his cock in my mouth.
“Court, I’m close. Do you want me to come?” he asks, his hand kneading my ass becoming rougher.
I smile up at him, holding his tip between my teeth.
“I wish I could bury myself in your tight pussy right now,” he says, his voice husky.
My clit throbs painfully at his words and my panties are drenched.
“Yes,” I say, then go back to sucking on him.
“What? You want me to pull over and fuck you on the side of the road?” His voice is thick.
“Please,” I beg, my words gurgling.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
In a couple minutes, the truck lists to the right. It jostles as dirt and rocks grind under the tires and we come to a stop several feet away from the road.
I sit up, happy Tuck found a large tree to park behind so we are mostly obstructed from view—not that there are any cars around right now.
Tuck is clenching his teeth as he throws open the center console and digs around, finally pulling out a little foil packet. He�
��s scowling, the overhead light casting dark shadows across his face. If I didn’t know him, I’d be thinking he looks big and scary.
He gets out of the truck and slams his door shut. I watch him walk around the front of the truck, his hard cock still huge and hanging straight out of his shorts. He tosses my door open, the look on his face is determined, primal.
My heart is pounding.
He grabs me by the back of my thighs and pulls me to him so I am lying on my back on the seat and he’s standing between my legs. Then his large hands move to the sensitive skin on my inner thighs and he presses my legs apart as his eyes devour the sight of my pussy covered by a scrap of red lace.
Without warning, he hooks a finger through the crotch of my panties and pulls them to the side as he dives down. Parting me with his thumbs, he eats me out until I’m gasping for air, my fingers twisted in his hair. He takes turns between flicking my clit with his hard tongue and fucking me with it. The warm mixture of my juices and his saliva drip down my ass and this undoes me.
“Oh, god, Tuck, I’m coming.” I hold his head to me as I come on his face.
He smiles at me as he licks his swollen lips.
I’m still writhing from my orgasm when he tears open the wrapper and rolls the condom onto his impressive erection. I tremble thinking about how he’s maintained a hard-on this entire time.
He flips me onto my stomach and pulls me closer so I’m bent at the waist, my feet barely touching the ground. I push my face into the soft seat as his blunt head pushes at my clenching entrance.
“You want a hard fuck?”
“Yes.”
He shoves inside me. I’m so wet and ready for him and he fills me up so good. He’s not going slow or gentle. His fingers dig into my hips as he pounds into me, hitting the perfect spot inside. I moan as he grunts and his hips slap my ass. I’m so wet it sounds like my pussy is slurping on his dick.
Then he slides a hand to my lower back. It moves down, his thumb slipping between my ass cheeks and rubbing my little hole for a minute before he eases it inside of me. I cry out with renewed ecstasy as he fills me up entirely.
