The Last Virgin in Texas

by Jennifer Woodhull

  “You’re tired, darlin’. Why don’t you get to bed?”

  “You can’t drive. You’re drunk.”

  “You’re drunk.” I tap the tip of her cute little nose with the pad of my index finger. “I’m not that drunk, but I’ll call a car if it makes you feel better.”

  She furrows her brow and cocks her head to the side. “Whose car? We ain’t got taxis around here this time of night. You know that.” She shakes her head, then looks down at my hand, reaching her fingertips out to grasp it. “You could stay.” She looks up and her eyes meet mine. “Here…with me.”

  I am a little buzzed, but I’m sober enough to know that if she’s waited this long, I don’t want her first time to be half drunk. I want to make it special for her, so she’ll remember it—and me—her whole life.

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Gretchen.”

  “We don’t have to do anything. Just sleep. I’d feel better knowin’ you weren’t out on the road.”

  She blinks up at me with those big eyes and I know as clear as I know my own name, that I can’t say no to anything she asks of me.

  I reach out and take her hand, following her to the bedroom.

  I wake to a smell that’s sweet, like vanilla and sugar. I’m warm. Comfortable. Happy.

  As my brain clears from the fog of sleep, I realize the warmth I feel comes from the fact that I’m wrapped around a petite body with soft, womanly curves. Last night comes back. Coming to dinner at Gretchen’s house. Her being pissed at me. Then, us making out on the sofa. The memory of kissing Gretchen, my lips on her skin, makes my dick wake up. I pull her closer, nuzzling my face into her hair where it pools at the base of her neck.

  “Mm.” She coos and presses her back against me as her legs glide together. Her ass grinding against my dick is almost more than I can stand.

  “You’re still here.” She turns and grins up at me.

  I press a kiss to her cheek. “Still here, beautiful.” I press my palm to her belly, and when I slide down her torso, she writhes under my touch.

  I tug on her shoulder, rolling her over onto her back, and begin kissing her neck.

  “I have to go to work.” Her words come on a soft groan as I slide my palm under her top while I pepper her neck and chest with kisses.

  I rest my chin on her chest and look up at her. “Don’t go to work. Spend some time with me. I’ll bring you back tomorrow.”

  “I can’t do that. I have a business to run.”

  “The day, then. Let’s drive down to the beach. We could eat some fish tacos, maybe some ceviche. Lay on the sand in the sun…”

  She chews on her bottom lip and I know she’s considering it.

  “Maisie and Dodger can handle it for the day. Come on, Gretchen. The film crew will be here before we know it. Let’s take advantage of the time we’ve got.”

  She’s tempted.

  I raise my brows and grin. “Say yes.”

  She presses one palm then the other to her eyes then slides her hands down the sides of her face. “You’re gonna be nothin’ but trouble, aren’t you?”

  I hook my finger in the neckline of her tank and tug it down, pressing my lips to the place between her breasts. “Maybe. You might need a little trouble in your life, though. Text Maisie. Tell her you’re taking some time off.”

  She grabs her phone off the bedside table. While her fingers fly across the keyboard, I bury my face in the side of her neck. The smell of her skin, the warmth of her body, her sexy curves…laying here in her bed, I’m happier than I have been in longer than I can remember.

  Forget another Oscar, Emmy, or Golden Globe. I should win some kind of award for having the restraint to spend the night in bed with Gretchen Weber and resist the temptation to fuck her long and hard the way I’d like to. There’s nothing I’d like better than to feel her squeezing around me as I fill her up. She’d like that too, and everything from the way she was with me last night to how her body is curling around me now tells me so.

  I have to be patient, though.

  These past few days, seeing her, being with her and now, with her letting me back in, it’s all clear. The reason I’ve been missing home so much, the reason I’ve been feeling so unsettled lately…it’s all to do with her.

  I was wrong to think I could leave her behind. She’s been the itch that’s gone unscratched for too long.

  That’s all about to change.

  Nineteen

  I guess I can scratch spend the night with a movie star off my bucket list.

  That may sound pretty spicy but in reality, it was absolutely sweet. Well, after the make-out session it was, anyway. We spent almost the whole night talking and laughing just like old times. I didn’t love the idea of him driving after drinking all night, so he stayed.

  With me.

  In my bed.

  And, unfortunately for me, waking up with his arms around me might be the best damn thing that ever happened.

  Tucker wanted me to ditch work and spend the day with him, and I said yes. Spending the day with the crushingly handsome, achingly sexy, first boy I ever loved who’s going to be leaving town in a few days to go back to his life in Hollywood…now that sounds like a disastrous idea, so of course I’m up for it. He suggested a day at the beach, so I dug out my swimsuit and threw it on over shorts and a tee.

  We stop by his parents’ house for Tucker to get some clothes. Thankfully, they’re both out and I didn’t have to endure an awkward explanation to Mrs. Kane about what’s going on with him and me. That’s good, because honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing.

  The old pickup he used to drive is long gone these days, but the new one he keeps at his parents’ place isn’t too fancy.

  “Whose is that?” I tip my head toward the fancy, brand new truck that looks like it’s never seen a speck of mud.

  “It’s the rental I picked up to drive in from the airport. Rather take mine, though. More comfortable, and less fancy.” He winks.

  After we’re on the road, he smiles over at me. “Hey, why don’t you find us some road music? Reach into the glove-box and pull out the CD case.”

  “Okay.” I pull the latch on the glove box and the door bounces open. I reach in and find the square, blue canvas binder and pull it out. It’s the same one he had back when we were dating. “You’ve still got this thing?”

  He casts his eyes over the top of his shades in my direction and gives me a grin that makes my heart beat a little faster. “I’m still me, Gretchen. Still like good music, cold beer, homemade fried chicken…” He reaches his right hand over and his palm covers my thigh as he gives it a squeeze just above the knee. I can practically hear the sizzle as his skin connects with mine. “I still like riding in a pickup truck with a beautiful girl.”

  I am so doomed.

  I flip through the CDs and come across one with familiar handwriting. In teal blue Sharpie across the front are the words road music. Next to them is a small drawing of a pickup truck with two people waving from the windows. The doodle is a Gretchen original.

  “You kept this?!”

  “Of course I did. Darlin’, I was sad when everything happened back then. Maybe for longer than I want to admit.” He shakes his head and turns to me when he pulls up to the traffic light. “I told you—looking back, I should’ve come back myself. I should’ve asked you if you wanted to join us in Cali like I planned all along. Didn’t seem like that was what you wanted so I didn’t. Doesn’t mean I was able to just turn my feelings off.”

  He shrugs and turns back, face forward, as the light turns green.

  My throat goes dry and I’m thankful my oversized plastic Jacki-O sunglasses hide the emotion brimming at my lashes. I stretch my arm across and place my palm against his arm.

  “I’m glad you came to the diner, Tucker.”

  “I’m glad your aim with that coffee cup was so terrible.” He smirks and I go to snatch my hand away, but he grabs it and brings it to his lips. “I’m teasin’, Gr
etchen.”

  He doesn’t release my hand, but loops his long, thick fingers through mine, letting our entwined hands rest together on the console between us. The simple act must have magical powers because it makes the last five years melt away.

  With each mile marker that whizzes past us on the highway, a little more of the distance between Tucker and me is erased. Between talking about old times, singing along with our favorite mix CD, and stopping along the way for Icees, I could easily forget that he’s a world-famous movie and TV star and mistake him for the boy my heart has never forgotten.

  Tucker rolls the windows down as we turn onto the causeway. The intoxicating scents of salt and sea fill the truck as a warm breeze licks at my hair, causing tendrils to stand on end and dance in the air.

  “Damn this is a perfect day.” He pulls into the entrance to the park that houses the beachfront and puts the truck in park. “This is one of my favorite spots.” He’s grinning like a kid as he reaches over me to open the glove box and drop his wallet inside.

  “You come down here often?”

  “Not as often as I’d like. Mama uses my house down here more than anybody, really. She just likes to bring the other charity ladies down here to brag, if you ask me. I get here when I can. Sometimes Dad and I come down and go fishing.”

  “So you’ve got a house in California and one here, too?” I’m instantly reminded that his life now is one I can’t remotely relate to. Aside from the recent twenty-dollar lip gloss indulgence, the last time I splurged, it was on an expanded marker set with a forty percent off coupon, and a mini-jar of macadamia nuts. Mama may be livin’ the high life these days, but this girl minds her budget. You never know when a rainy day will come along.

  He tips his head from side to side. “Well…I have a place in New York, too. I have to film there quite a bit, so it just makes more sense to have someplace I can be comfortable. It’s small, though. The city is cool, but I don’t spend a ton of time there.”

  Grabbing the handle of the door, he nods toward the beach in front of us. “You ready to get wet, Gretchen?”

  He wiggles his eyebrows and I roll my eyes. Little does he know that’s pretty much a permanent state since he got to town.

  We hop out of the truck and he grabs the bag from the backseat. When we get close to the water, he pulls a blanket from it and tosses it to me. A few minutes later, he’s kneeling on the blanket, tugging his t-shirt off over his head.

  I know I’m gratuitously staring at his body, but damn if I can help myself. This man doesn’t have a six-pack, he has an eight-pack. Round muscles cap his shoulders, each bicep a prominent, protruding bulge in his upper arm. He is stunning and I can barely take my eyes away.

  “Okay, Gretchen. I showed you mine. Now it’s your turn.” He winks as he puts his shades back on.

  I breathe out a sigh and stand. I unbutton my shorts and shimmy them down. Tucker is sitting, cross-legged on the blanket now, clearly enjoying my unintentional striptease. He leans back, putting his weight on his palms, his eyes never leaving my body.

  We made out a little last night but stripping down to my two-piece with him ogling me in the harsh sunlight of day is another story altogether. Still, the way he’s looking at me right now is the same way Dillon looks at a slice of pie down at the diner after a tough shift chasing speeders on the highway. When Tucker’s eyes travel up my body and he licks his lips, I decide to throw caution to the wind and go for it. I reach down, grab the hem of my tee and pull it off over my head.

  Tucker whistles. “Damn, Gretchen. You really are gorgeous, head to toe.”

  I shrug. “Thanks. You’re lookin’ pretty good these days yourself, but you got like a million fans. You don’t need me to tell you what you look like.”

  “Maybe. None of them know me, though. Your opinion is more important than any of theirs.”

  It sounds like a line, and I kind of want it to be. The alternative is far too dangerous to even think about.

  “You ready to go for a swim?” He nods and we walk into the surf.

  “You still swim?”

  “Probably better than you, Hollywood.”

  He steps forward in the surf, closer to me, and his brows snap together. “Don’t call me that.”

  My eyes grow wider, surprised at his suddenly serious tone.

  “Okay. Can I ask why?”

  “That life out there…it’s not what you think, Gretch. I mean, some of it’s great. The money lets me do things for the people I care about. The parties can be fun. But the business…those people?” He shakes his head. “I don’t especially like being lumped in with that crowd is all.”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think he wasn’t happy being an international superstar.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just messin’ around, but if it bothers you, I won’t say it again.”

  He nods and gives me a smile that feels just a little sad for some reason.

  “Race you to the marker?” He points to the buoy that bobs in the water to mark the safe swimming zone.

  “You’re on!” I hop up and dive into the water, swimming toward the yellow and red orb as it bounces in the surf.

  After spending some time swimming around in the shallows and doing a little body surfing, we decide to relax on the blanket and dry off in the sun.

  He rests his weight back on his elbows as his long, lean body glistens with saltwater and sweat. He looks out at the water. “I wish we could stay here.”

  “We can stay as long as you want. We got all day.” I shrug as I grab a bottle of water out of a small cooler we brought along, and hand one to him as well.

  “That’s not what I meant.” He sits up, taking the bottle from me. “I meant stay. For a while.” He drinks down a long sip of water. “Or forever.”

  My head whips in his direction. “You wouldn’t move back here, though. Right? I mean, you couldn’t live here and do all that filmin’ or whatever it is you do out there, could you?”

  His gaze never leaves the water. “I don’t know. Maybe I could…” He trails off then lets out a sharp breath. “I just don’t know.”

  He would never move back. He would never leave the glamorous Hollywood life behind.

  Would he?

  Twenty

  I called over to Sandpiper Landing and talked to the owner about letting us have the private dining room upstairs for lunch. Kevin’s become a friend over the last few years I’ve been coming down here.

  We pull up to the back of the restaurant and I instinctively scan the parking lot when I get out of the truck. Maybe I’m paranoid, but I’ve been surprised by the paparazzi before. They’ve never followed me down here, but there’s a first time for everything, and the last thing I want is for Gretchen to get caught up in some scandal bullshit because of my fake relationship with Marissa.

  When I see only a handful of cars in the parking lot and nothing out of the ordinary, I relax a little as we head inside. Kevin’s waiting for us as soon as we walk in the door.

  “Good to see ya, Tuck. How’s it goin’, man?”

  “Good, Kev. Thanks for making room for us on such short notice.” I look around inside the restaurant, and he takes the cue, leading us upstairs to the top floor of the restaurant.

  When we get to the dining room, there’s a table already set for us near the open glass doors. It’s close enough to let us enjoy the breeze and the view, but not close enough for anyone to see in.

  I turn to Kevin. “This is perfect.” I introduce him to Gretchen, and a few minutes later, the server comes in and we order lunch.

  “So, you wanna tell me why we’re in this big ol’ dining room all by ourselves?”

  Maintaining my privacy has become such a part of my everyday life, it hadn’t even occurred to me that an explanation was necessary.

  “You said it yourself. You look at the covers of those magazines in the grocery store checkout line. You see the shit people write. Doesn’t matter whether or not it’s true. It’
s not just paparazzi and reporters, though. Somebody snaps a picture and posts it on social media, or even worse, takes it to one of those papers and sells it. It doesn’t matter if there’s no story behind it. They make one up.” I reach across the table and take her hand. “Somebody snaps a photo of us together, and they’ll descend on you like a pack of vultures. I don’t want you to ever have to go through that.”

  “And if they saw us together, what with you having a girlfriend and all…”

  “I told you, none of that’s real. You know I wouldn’t lie to you, don’t you?”

  “I don’t think you would. The world doesn’t know it’s fake, though, right?” She shrugs, then grins. “Besides, maybe I like you reminding me that you’re still the same ol’ Tucker.” She scrunches up her nose and it’s so fucking adorable I want to reach across the table and kiss her right here and fuck who sees it.

  Her eyes are locked on mine, and the way she’s looking at me shifts. Her gaze grows hazy and her smile turns into a faint smirk. I run the pad of my thumb along her knuckles and she sucks in her lip, dragging it against her teeth. The way she’s looking at me is making something stir inside of me. I want her. I don’t just want to fuck her, although I definitely want to do that about a dozen different ways. I want her. I thought she was some crush from back when I was a kid—some unfinished business I could get out of my system. I’m starting to think I was wrong, though. I’m starting to think she’s much more than I ever thought.

  Taking my eyes off of her is almost painful, but when my phone dances across the table, I give it my attention. Seeing the number on the screen, I answer.

  “Sorry, give me just a minute, okay?” Gretchen nods and I slide the button open to answer. “Hey Aaron. What’s up?”

  He tells me that, along with the interviews, a crew is coming in tomorrow to do a photoshoot with me for Pulse magazine. Apparently, they have been wanting to do a feature on me as part of an upcoming issue on young Hollywood, and since they are owned by the same company that owns our network, Aaron said he’d make it happen.