Batter of Wits: An Enemies to Lovers Small Town Romance (Donner Bakery Book 5)

by Smartypants Romance

  Goodbye, tepid, you no longer have a place in my universe.

  "I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He tightened his hold on me, and I had to close my eyes at how good, how so very good it felt. When weighted blankets became the biggest it thing, I'd rolled my eyes at the thought of someone who'd pay two hundred dollars to be pinned into place.

  But I got it now. Bracketed with muscles and bone like his, wide as a tree trunk and strong as an ox, I could've slept like that for two days straight.

  Lifting my chin a touch, I pressed my lips against the place where his pulse thundered steadily. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine that rush of blood screaming my name as it raced through his veins, just like my body seemed to be calling his.

  Buh-boom.

  Buh-boom.

  Buh-boom.

  Tucker.

  Tucker.

  Tucker.

  I nuzzled my face up and found his lips again, suddenly desperate for the way he devoured me with his kiss. He breathed me in, moving into a perfect lift and nudge underneath me while his tongue licked into my mouth.

  Sweat dotted the back of my neck as the kiss got deeper, hotter, wetter, dirtier. All I needed was this kiss, and I could live forever. A drop of perspiration slid down my spine when his hands dug shamelessly into the back of my shorts and helped move me against him with hard fingers against soft skin.

  My entire body tightened as I moved over top of him, my hips restless, my breasts heavy and aching.

  The world spun when Tucker lifted, turning me so my back was on the couch and he had me pinned into the cushions with the full weight of his body.

  "Yes," I hissed, arching up, my knees tucked against his side as he did some hip-rolling of his own.

  I was ready, so ready, that a single touch of his hand in any number of places on my body would trigger the explosion that would fling me up into the stratosphere.

  "I knew it would be like this," he groaned against my mouth, his hands searching and holding and gripping any part of me he could find.

  I whimpered when he shoved his hand underneath my shirt and traced the edge of my lace bra.

  "So did I," I admitted, my chin tilting up to the ceiling and breathing unsteadily through the feelings taking control of my body. They were raw and jagged and dangerous, the high that a junkie craves, that an addict would sell their soul for. And we were still clothed, for shit's sake. If I got this man naked over me, I might actually die from pleasure. "I imagined you just like this," I said after I bit down on his lip. "Over me, holding me down inside your truck while you moved between my legs. The very first day, I saw it in my head, and I hated you for it."

  Tucker hissed through gritted teeth, eyes black in his face, a wild flush on his cheeks as he stared down at me with an expression that couldn't be described as anything other than worshipful, decadent, insane with desire. Dirty as all hell.

  His mouth opened, and my breath caught with anticipation of what he'd say.

  That's when the door opened. "Saw your light on, sweetpea—" Aunt Fran slapped a hand over her eyes when she saw what was happening on my couch. "Oh, my good heavens, oh my gosh," Aunt Fran mumbled. "I'm so sorry, Grace and …"

  Tucker flew off me to the opposite side of the couch and I struggled to sit up and tug my shirt into place.

  My aunt dropped her hands and pinned Tucker with an incredulous stare. "Tucker Haywood, what in sweet merciful heaven are you doing here?"

  Her mom voice was fully activated, and it caused any desire pulsing through my body to shrivel up and die.

  "Well, ma'am," he started, standing from the couch with a wince, hands cupped over his impressive display, "I came to see Grace."

  I stifled a hysterical giggle as it crawled up my throat.

  "I know that," she said calmly, "but if you're running around on that girlfriend, you've got no place thinking about my niece. I never pegged you as a man who'd disrespect two good women like that."

  Oh. Right.

  Tucker's face smoothed out into a placid mask. No hands were required to hide anything anymore, because if there was anything that could kill a good dry-humping session, it was someone mentioning his recent ex.

  "Magnolia and I are no longer seeing each other, Mrs. Buchanan." His chin lifted. "Not that I need to defend my actions, but I'd hope you know me well enough to know that I'd never touch your niece if I weren't available to do so."

  I pulled my legs up to my chest and hid my burgeoning smile into my knees. I loved the way he spoke, loved the way it sounded in his accent. There was an old-fashioned quality to the way he chose his words, and that made me want to rip his clothes off all over again.

  Until my aunt caught sight of my expression. "Do we need to talk about safe sex, young lady?"

  Smile gone. "Nope. I'm … we're good. I'm good."

  Aunt Fran turned to Tucker and sighed. "Well, I'm certainly sorry I interrupted, because I won't get that picture out of my head for the rest of my life, to be sure." She rubbed her forehead. "I don't even remember why I came out here now. Lord, I'm losing my mind."

  Tucker smiled at me. "I should go anyway. I've got an early day tomorrow."

  I'll admit it, I pouted. And when he saw my lower lip push out, his grin spread until the skin around his eyes crinkled into handsome lines.

  "Don't let me run you off," Aunt Fran said. "I can make myself scarce."

  "It's fine, Mrs. Buchanan." He leaned over me and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

  I nodded up at him.

  It was too easy to imagine, based on his facial expression, that I was a living heart-eye emoji. I'd turned into a human swoon. I wanted nothing more than to hear him call me Angry Girl, or Pretty Girl, or any other variation he could come up with based on my mood.

  "Night," he said, winking as he straightened.

  "G'night, Tucker," Aunt Fran said as he left. Before she could turn around and face me, I covered my face with a throw pillow until I felt her sit next to me. Her hand tugged on the corner of the pillow, and she chuckled at whatever she saw on my face. "It takes a lot to surprise me, Grace Bailey."

  I sighed. "I know."

  "I thought you hated him?"

  "I did." I shrugged. "And then I didn't."

  She gave me a considering look. "Did you forget how to work a lock on the door when you stopped hating him?"

  I laughed. "Sorry about that. I wasn't … expecting company."

  "So he broke up with Magnolia MacIntyre … for you." It wasn't a question. Because she saw the answer clear as day, as he had me squirming restlessly underneath him on the couch when she walked in. Two minutes later, and she would've probably seen much, much more of both of us.

  I nodded slowly. "Seems so."

  Aunt Fran whistled. "And that made you not hate him anymore?"

  "No." I sighed, playing with the edge of the pillows. "I not-hated him before he broke up with her. He wasn't aware of it though."

  "What happened?"

  "The curse happened."

  Her face went blank with shock. "But you … you hated him. I saw it."

  I slung an arm over her shoulder. "Aunt Fran, prepare to have your mind blown, because we've got ourselves a sexist curse in this family."

  Chapter 17

  Tucker

  It seemed lately that my life worked only because of a checks and balances system. A scale, just like the one that Lady Justice held, now dictated my personal life, like it had dictated my professional one. You relieve weight from one side, and the other will sink. Add weight to balance it, and the scales evened out.

  I met the most fascinating woman I'd ever met in my entire life, except I had a serious girlfriend.

  I no longer had a girlfriend, but my job imploded because of that, thereby trapping me into a strange limbo where I couldn't admit that I was with the new fascinating woman.

  That's how it had been since I broke up with Magnolia, I thought, rubbing my sleep-deprived eyes. Trying to figure ou
t a way to keep the scales balanced, keep them afloat.

  When I got to work that morning, it was with a smile on my face and a bounce in my step. Enough that my mom smiled in return behind her desk. "Well goodness, what's got you in such a good mood?"

  I kissed her on the cheek. "It's a beautiful day, Momma. That's all."

  Her eyes held a tinge of worry at my mood, but she didn't question it as I passed through the waiting room and into my office.

  They knew I broke up with Magnolia, but not about Grace. If Francine's reaction the night before was any indication, or Grace's for that matter, this was a transition that needed to be handled with tact and consideration.

  Sitting at my desk, staring up at the map on the ceiling, I closed my eyes and conjured Grace's face when she told me she didn't want to be a rebound. I had to rub a hand over my heart, because it did strange flips in my chest when I thought about it. The thought of her eyes when she admitted that, of her kiss, her body underneath mine, the way I couldn't move my hands hard enough or touch enough of her skin, the way I wanted to wrap myself around her and stay just like that the whole night.

  There it was again, the uneven chugging of my heart.

  Not a heart attack.

  Not a stroke.

  It was quite possible, that for the first time, I was love-sick.

  When I pulled out my phone to send her a text, I found one waiting for me, and I couldn't stop the pleased puff of my chest when I read her words.

  Angry Girl: I've been lying in bed all morning, thinking about what I'd do to you if you were here with me. Thinking about the way you kissed me.

  Angry Girl: You've made me into a cliche, and I'm kinda mad at you about it.

  Rapping my thumb against the edge of my phone, I thought about what I wanted to say in return. That even with a cold shower, I hadn't been able to dull the physical ache that tortured me all night. That I dreamt of her, climbing over me with sleek, naked skin and wild golden hair, where she rode me until we were both soaked in sweat and exhausted from pleasure. That I missed her to a degree that should have scared me, but didn't.

  Me: Is it strange that you being mad turns me on?

  Angry Girl: LOL. Not considering my crazy the day we met. Gawd, was that really less than a week ago?

  Me: Big things happen fast, Pretty Girl.

  Angry Girl: I can attest to THAT, mister. I was on top of that big thing.

  Me: Careful now, I've got a meeting in 20, and my great Aunt Belle is NOT someone I need seeing me with a hard-on, okay? She'll write me into one of her dirty poems.

  Angry Girl: Oh buddy, I'd be able to take care of that problem in a lot less than 20.

  "I'm glad one of us is smiling," my dad said as he strolled into my office. His face reminded me of a thundercloud.

  I tossed my phone into the top drawer of my desk, lest he accidentally see what was on the screen. "What's wrong?"

  He sat in the chair opposite of me and sank down. "That jackass Julius won in court today."

  "Which case?"

  "The Canterbury divorce."

  I grimaced. "Sorry, Dad. You spent a lot of time on that one."

  "If only apologies could win us a ruling." He rubbed his forehead, looking as old as I'd ever seen him. "That's the third one in a row, son. As if I didn't have enough on my plate with J.T. hissing and spitting in my direction."

  I sighed. "He's just cross with me."

  "He sure is," he agreed. "But it still affects me and your mother."

  Silence cloaked the space between us while I tried to think of what to say. I couldn't apologize for breaking up with Maggie, because even without Grace, it was the right thing to do. But that one man, irrational as he might have been about securing his daughter's happiness, was the key to a hefty portion of our income.

  Without the retainers that he paid, his wife's business paid, his in-laws paid, we'd lose about fifty percent of our steadiest income. It was the kind of loss that would cripple a small practice like ours. Because of me.

  It was the kind of thing that made my skin crawl, knowing that I bore that responsibility.

  Like I could hear them fall into place, a few more rocks settled onto the work side of the scale, and the carefully held balance swayed dangerously.

  "I know it does, Dad," I said wearily. In the drawer, I could hear a text come through on my phone, the buzzing sound as much of a temptation as Grace was herself. Craving her words like this, even as my father sat and bore the weight of my decisions, was something I needed to keep in check. "If he keeps blustering, I'll talk to him. Or talk to Magnolia. She was surprised, but she wasn't angry at me. I know her well enough that she'd never ask her daddy to ruin our business out of spite."

  "She's a good girl," my dad agreed. "Not the one for you, I can see that clear enough, but you're right. She'd never wish revenge on you."

  My head lifted in surprise. "You knew she wasn't right for me?"

  He snorted. "Of course. You don't deal with people as long as I have without being able to read them like a first grade picture book."

  The irony that he couldn't see how miserable I was in this job was not lost on me, but I kept my mouth shut as he kept talking.

  "Magnolia is smart and driven, pretty as a picture, but her daddy has spoiled her rotten her whole life. And Bobby Jo,” his voice trailed off as he thought about Maggie’s mother. “She let him, because it takes too much effort to stop J.T. from doing what he wants." He shifted in the chair and got a faraway look in his eye, probably rifling through the years that she and I spent together, just as I'd done when I drove to her apartment to end things. "I think the two of you were sweet on each other when you first started dating, but you never mooned the way a young couple in love should. It's like each of you checked off certain boxes that the other was looking for, and so you just stayed where you were because there was no reason not to. But that's no way to start off a life, son."

  The truth of what he said clanged like a bell, and I couldn't argue with a single part of it. "I know. It took me too long to see it. Or be willing to admit it, at least."

  As he stood from the chair, he looked older than his fifty-five years. His hip creaked when he took his first step, even the wrinkles on his face seemed more pronounced than they had even a week ago. Some people looked young for their age, but my dad wasn't one of them.

  The product of not enough exercise, too much time trapped behind a desk, not enough water during the day. Too much coffee in the mornings and whiskey at night. The eating habits of a college student and way too many hours working. My mom still managed to look ten years younger than her fifty-two, but as I watched my dad leave my office, I would've sworn he was approaching seventy.

  Stress. That's what aged him faster than any of his unhealthy habits.

  I thought about my dad's stress, and whether that same fate was waiting for me if I stayed behind this desk at Haywood and Haywood, staring up the map painted on the ceiling. My next appointment, my great aunt Belle, barely registered, even though she was a unique case—wanting help with the process of copyrighting her erotic poetry so 'that snake down at the book club wouldn't steal it.’

  As she marched out of my office, freshly motivated for more verses about pulsing members and turgid skin that she'd be able to legally claim, I tried to move past that interaction with my dad.

  Tried to ignore the ramifications of what it meant, if J.T. really did change legal representation because of what I'd done.

  But nothing worked for the rest of the day, until I arrived at the community center for another fair planning meeting.

  When I pulled my truck into a spot by the building, I leaned my head back and sighed heavily, desperately hoping that Grace would arrive soon so I could steal a moment with her before sitting in front of the probing eyes of all the women around that table. My phone showed no text from her since that last one, the one she'd sent me when my cell was safely tucked away into my desk drawer, but I read it again to kill time.


  Angry Girl: Now all I'll be able to think about at the meeting is what I could do to you in that amount of time. If you see me licking my lips … you know why.

  I groaned. She was as dangerous as a grenade with the pin pulled. And I was the one who pulled it with eyes wide open, heedless of where it exploded.

  A car pulled up next to me, and I sat up when I realized it was Fran and Grace. Francine nodded at me, a twinkle in her eye that had not been present the night before. I smiled, getting out of my truck as Grace exited the car and jogged in my direction.

  After a quick glance around, I snatched her hand and pulled her around the corner of the building and behind a massive pine tree. The wide trunk blocked us from any cars that might have parked on the far edge of the lot, and I pressed her against the bark, taking her mouth in a deep, winding kiss that had her melting against me. She smelled like sunshine and apples and other things that made me feel insane and edgy with want.

  Her fingers curled into the back of my neck, and her spine arched like a cat at the touch of my hand. Deep in her chest, I felt the vibration of her moan, a contented purring sound that had me pressing harder, clutching her tighter, like I could allow her to seep into my skin to see if that helped ease the ache that I had for her.

  Around the corner, Francine coughed in a way that was obnoxiously obvious.

  I pulled back and set my forehead on hers. "You should probably go in with her. Give me a minute to, you know, calm down."

  "You seem to have had this affliction a lot recently." Grace grinned, and I dipped down to kiss the dimple that popped in her cheek to the right of her lips. I moved down to her jaw and throat. It seemed impossible that I'd ever get enough of her.

  "All day. All night. Every minute since I walked out that door," I growled into the skin of her neck. "Go out on a date with me tonight, Pretty Girl?"