Her eyes are glued to my dick as her hands slide up and down my shaft. She squeezes, gently, and I clench my gut, trying hard to hold back.
“Fuck, Gretchen. Just like that.”
She moves her thumb up to the head and dips it in the pre-cum pooled there, then she does the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. She brings her thumb up to her lips and dips it in her mouth, sucking the fluid from her thumb as she meets my eyes.
She scoots back and when she bends forward, parting her lips, I’m in Heaven. Her mouth closes around me, warm and soft as her lips slide down and back. When she asks me if I like what she’s doing, I slide my palm through her blonde hair, grazing her cheek with my thumb.
“Yes, sweetheart. It’s incredible. If you keep doing that, though, I’m not sure I can hold back.”
She gives me a dirty little grin and parts her lips, taking me in. It doesn’t take long before I’m close. I warn her, but she doesn’t waiver, taking me deep as I explode.
After I’m spent and I’ve cleaned up, I return to the bed, pulling her close and pulling a blanket up over us.
We spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, and I doze with her in my arms. When I wake up and the afternoon sun is shining hues of orange through the top of the blinds, I look down at the beautiful girl in my arms. I don’t spend much time down here, but right now, I wish I could keep Gretchen here and just stay forever.
Twenty-Two
Last night, I had the craziest dream. I dreamt I was at Tucker’s beach house, and we were in bed together, wrapped in each other’s arms.
As the sleep fog drifts away and my brain wakes up, I realize, though, it wasn’t a dream. It was all real.
I practically begged him to fuck me. I was pitiful with need—desperate for a release. He wasn’t prepared, but he definitely didn’t disappoint. I’ve never felt like that before. When we were young and fooled around it was good, but that? That was next level.
When we got back to my place last night, we agreed that, since I had to get up early and get the diner ready for a photoshoot and he had already basically ditched his parents for forty-eight hours, Tucker would go back to spend the night at his parents’ place.
When he kissed me goodnight with one of those strong, intoxicating kisses I’m becoming so addicted to, he said he’d come over after I close up the diner tonight.
Dodger and Maisie were nice enough to come in early and help me get the place ready. I wish I had enough time to freshen the place up a bit, but with what they’re paying me just to take pictures in the diner, I couldn’t exactly afford to be too picky about the short notice.
I’m putting on a second pot of coffee while Maisie walks over to open the front door when she calls back to me behind the counter.
“Um, Gretch? There’s people out here.” She turns to me with her hand still on the key. “Lots of people.”
“People? Let me see.” I walk up beside her, peering through the ancient metal blinds on the front door and sure enough, there are about three dozen people standing in my parking lot.
“What the hell? Who are they?” I ask as I stare up at my cousin.
“Damned if I know. I thought you must’ve invited ‘em.”
I shrug as I unlock the door and a sea of humanity the likes of which I haven’t seen since last Black Friday at Wal-Mart comes pouring into the diner. I recognize one as the entertainment reporter from channel six over in San Antonio, but luckily for me, she doesn’t have a camera crew with her. Several regulars sidle up to the counter and start ordering breakfast and coffee, seemingly unfazed by all the chaos.
In the front corner of the diner, a cluster of people are unpacking big black and silver suitcases. A guy in an untucked, cream-colored linen shirt and jeans that look slightly dirty but in a way that tells me they came that way, saunters up to me and flashes a blindingly bright smile. His dark eyes scan me before meeting mine.
“Excuse me, senorita, do you have an outlet for my plug?” He cocks up a brow as mischief dances in his eyes.
When I eye him suspiciously, he holds up the extension cord in his hands.
“Oh.” I give him a polite smile. “Sure. Right over here.” I walk toward the front window and point to the dusty, unused outlet behind the heavy iron stand that holds the Lions’ Club gumball machine.
“Thank you so very much. I am Diego, by the way.” He holds out his hand and I offer mine to shake, but he deposits a kiss on the back of my fingers. “You must be one of the models, no?”
I involuntarily laugh out loud. “Ha. No. Not a model. I’m Gretchen. This is my place.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I feel so fortunate to be in your place, lovely Gretchen. I will capture Tucker Kane with my camera today.” His eyes land somewhere behind me, and when I look over my shoulder, I see a tall brunette in stiletto heels clip-clopping her way toward me with a tablet in her hand. “I hope we have a chance to talk again soon, mujer encantadora.”
“Um, okay. Thanks.” I have no idea what he said, but flirting is the international language, and he is definitely flirty.
“Hi! Are you Gretchen?” The tall, impossibly thin woman clutches the tablet to her chest as she approaches me.
In her heels, I have to crane my neck backward to look up at her, which I find inexplicably annoying.
“I’m Gretchen Weber, yes.”
“Hi!”
Are you high? Because I swear you said that already.
“I’m Rebecca Dekalb. I’m the location coordinator.” She blinks twice and gives me a polite but clearly fake smile.
“Nice to meet you. So,” I look around and wave in the gaggle's direction. “All these folks are with you?”
“Everyone setting up, yes.” She steps beside me and turns to face the cluster of people in the corner who are all gathered around a blonde, middle-aged man. He’s wearing sandals, a long, pale blue scarf, and sunglasses. Indoors. Where it’s not sunny.
“That’s Gavin Elcher.” She almost whispers as she leans down. “He’s the creative director for Pulse.” She stands upright again. “And you already met Diego de Baeza. He’s the photographer. Tucker isn’t here yet but you’ll get to meet him soon.” Her eyes glint a little when she says his name and I suddenly despise her.
Meet him? Honey, I spent most of yesterday afternoon with his tongue between my thighs, so yeah, we’ve met.
The thought makes me smirk.
I cross my arms and shift my weight to one foot. “Oh, I know Tucker. Known him most of my life.”
She blinks again, cocking her head slightly to the side. “Of course you do.”
Bitch.
With that, she nods once and walks back toward Gaylord or Gary or whoever the douche in the sandals is and starts fawning all over him.
Putting up with this may not be worth what they’re paying me. Still, soon I’ll get to see Tucker and that will make everything better. I mean, I get it. We’re just getting reacquainted. Just having some fun. Soon he’ll be going back to his Hollywood world, and I’ll still be right here, just like always.
There’s something about him coming back now, though that feels like it’s just meant to be. I know he and I can never be what we were before. I also know, though, that he’s the one I want to be with. It feels like it’s meant to be—Tucker is the one I should be with. It’s like we just took a pause, that’s all.
I step into the back while Maisie flirts for tips as she doles out coffee. Dodger is definitely not planning on taking his eye off of her for one second with all these strangers around, so I’m sure he’ll holler if she needs me.
I pull a couple of yesterday’s coconut and chocolate cream pies from the walk-in and take them to the back counter to top with whipped cream. Just as I finish off a perfect peak at the center of the chocolate, I feel someone behind me, and turn just as Tucker dips his long index finger into my perfectly topped pie.
“Mornin’, beautiful.” He paints my lip with the whipped cream from his fingertip then glides his tongue across it.
So doomed.
“Good morning yourself.” I dart my tongue out and lick the lingering film of cream from my lips. He’s clean-shaven and smells like soapy, manly goodness.
He leans sideways toward the door and looks into the dining room from under his brows. “How long has the circus been here?”
“Not long. There’s a reporter out there, too. The bitch in the blue skirt said you’d be by soon and I’d get to meet you.” I roll my eyes and he gives me a smug grin.
“You jealous, Gretchen?”
“No!” I answer way too fast. “I mean, of what? Of them? No way.”
“Good, because it should be the other way around. They should all be jealous of me for getting to do this.”
He pulls me close and kisses me. It’s soft, this kiss, but it’s loaded with so much emotion that, for the briefest moment, it feels like he’s…well, it feels like he’s more than some movie star passing through town.
“I better get out there before they start looking for me.” His arms are still wrapped around me as he nods toward the back door. “I’ll go out this way and come in around the front.” He pulls me into a tight hug. “Can’t wait to see you tonight.”
“Me, too,” I say into his firm chest as I squeeze him back just as tightly.
He steps back and winks. “I suppose it’s showtime.”
He turns to leave and just as his hand touches the handle of the screen door; I stop him. “Tucker?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Tonight…” I suck in a deep breath and let it out fast. “You wanna stay over?”
He stares at me, his eyes starting to glimmer as a slow smile creeps across his face. “I put my bag in the truck, just in case.” He winks and I’m putty.
I nod, a smile of my own tugging at my lips as he slips out the back door.
“I gotta say it. I don’t remember him bein’ that hot when we were kids, Gretch.”
Maisie and I are leaning against the counter, arms crossed, shoulders pressed together as we watch the surreal scene unfolding in our little diner.
There’s a photographer standing in the booth across from Tucker, shooting down on him from above, telling him how sexy he is. A woman is off to the side, fanning him with a big piece of cardboard. Whitesnake is blaring from the jukebox. The whole scene is nuts.
I sigh. “Oh, he was hot, alright. Now he’s just…Hollywood hot.”
“Speaking of Hollywood hot…” She nods toward the door. “It’s Jared! Oh my God!” He pulls off his shades and squints, looking around as if he’s filming a scene from one of his movies. Maisie rushes over and throws her arms around him. “Jared! It’s so good to see you.”
This immediately brings Dodger out from behind the counter to check on the situation. As he brushes past me, he leans down and whispers. “You know this asshole had a nose job, right?” I put my hand up to my mouth to try to contain the giggle that escapes as I walk over to join them.
“Take five, guys.” Tucker says, getting up from the booth to come join us.
“Damn it’s good to see ya’ll.” Jared looks around from Maisie to Dodger, and when his eyes land on me, they go a little wide. “Gretchen? Damn, girl! Get over here and give me a hug.”
He opens his arms wide and I step forward, giving him a squeeze around the middle. I catch Tucker’s eye and his brows pinch together. Stepping forward, he smacks the back of Jared’s head.
“What’s up, fat bastard? Bout time you got here.”
“Hey, shithead.” Jared retorts, grinning.
What is with guys calling each other awful names as a sign of affection?
Jared turns and slaps Tucker on the back in a one-armed bro-hug.
“I hate to be that girl, but can I get a selfie? Ple-ease?” Maisie bats her eyelashes.
“You didn’t ask for one when I got here.” Tucker dips his brow as he gives her a skeptical look.
“Well, I wasn’t sure how I felt about you bein’ back. Now,” she looks from Tucker to me and back. “Well, I feel a little better about, ya know, things.”
Tucker winks at me and that, combined with the ten thousand dollar suit he’s wearing that makes him look more delicious than ever, makes me want to climb him like a tree and suck that smug grin right off his lips. I don’t, though, because even though we tried running them off, there’re a couple of reporters still skulking around outside, and windows work both ways.
Maisie steps in between Tucker and Jared and starts snapping selfies, doing her best fish-lipped, surprised-face Instagram poses.
“Alright, that’s enough, Maisie. We both got work to do, and so does Tuck.” Dodger steps forward, takes her hand and pulls her back toward the kitchen.
I walk over to turn off the coffee while Jared and Tucker get caught up. I just make out him saying something about having brought Tucker a surprise, but he barely pays attention. His eyes are on me as he walks back over to the photographer.
Without even looking my way, Tucker calls out. “Gretchen, you be sure to save me a piece of that pie for later, alright?”
Thankfully, no one seems to pay enough attention to catch the double entendre. I catch it, though, and it makes my body shiver with anticipation of an encore of yesterday, and maybe a lot more than that.
Jared walks over and leans against the counter next to the small sink where I’m rinsing the coffee pots.
“You look great, Gretchen. I haven’t seen you in…what’s it been? Three or four years?”
I ran into him once while he was home visiting his Mom about a year after he and Tucker moved to California. I managed to hold it together instead of tackling him, grabbing him by the collar and screaming, “What happened? Why doesn’t Tucker love me anymore?”
Not that it crossed my mind to do that, or anything.
“Probably four. You look good too. You doin’ alright? Your Mama says you got a new show comin’ up next year.”
“Yeah, I’m going to be the Earl of Sussex in a new period drama about the court of King Charles the second.” He leans in close. “We’re filming in Canada starting next month. Maybe you should come up and check it out.”
“In Canada? Yeah, that’s not exactly a road trip from here, in case you haven’t noticed.”
He laughs. “Not a problem. If you wanna come, you’d be my guest.” He looks up toward the front door where a tall blonde who’s definitely not from around here is walking in. “Hey, check it out.” He taps the outside of my arm with the back of his hand. “Tucker’s surprise just arrived.”
My brows furrow as I try to make out what he means. I turn, giving my full attention to the woman as she puts a finger up to her mouth while she sneaks up behind Tucker. As she pushes her glasses up, like a headband, into her hair, my stomach drops, and I feel sick. Her arms circle his shoulders as she leans far enough over the back of the booth to reach his lips as he turns to look at her. Her mouth is on his and everyone is clapping and laughing.
It’s definitely not the type of kiss he showed me that’s for the cameras. It’s the kind that’s spontaneous and real. It’s the kind a girl gives her boyfriend when she hasn’t seen him in a while, and I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I’m looking at.
I can’t breathe.
I feel sick.
I have to get out of here.
I drop the coffee pot I was holding into the sink and burst through the swinging door, then out the screen door at the back.
I run, and I don’t stop until I’m safely inside my house where only Mr. Chips can see the tears streaming down my cheeks.
Twenty-Three
When I finally pull myself from the grip of the woman who is all over me, my eyes focus, and recognition sets in.
“Marissa? What are you doing here?”
“Jared brought me. I came to surprise you, baby.” She walks around to the side of the booth and slides in next to me, wrapping me in a hug. The camera clicks, rapid fire, as the lights on stands around the diner flash relentlessly.<
br />
She whispers as her arms wrap around my neck. “Ryan made me come. He wants me to be here for the interviews.”
Of course. Why have one network star when you could have two? I just wish I’d known she was coming so I could warn…
I look around and don’t see Gretchen anywhere.
Fuck.
I know what this must look like to her, despite everything we’ve talked about.
My first instinct is to ditch these industry assholes and run after her. With the press all over the place and the woman who is supposed to be my girlfriend sitting here with her arm draped around me, though, that doesn’t seem like the smartest idea.
It’ll be okay. I’ll talk to her tonight. She’ll understand. I mean, I told her this whole thing with Marissa was fake. Granted, I didn’t know she was going to show up like this, but still, Gretchen will understand.
Won’t she?
“Miss Benoit, you look gorgeous, darling. Please, put the shades back down. Let’s capture some stills of the two of you together, yes?” Diego waves his hand in the air and a bevy of makeup and hair artists come flocking over.
“Now? Look at me! I’m in cutoffs and a t-shirt. Shouldn’t I change?”
I look down at Marissa’s feet. “Cowboy boots? Really?”
“When in Rome, ya know?” She winks.
Maybe it’s good that she’s here. I can introduce her and Gretchen. As long as the press don’t get a whiff that we’re sneaking around, this might all work out after all.
We spend the next few hours shooting at the diner, on Main Street, and at the football field where I played in high school. Jared and Marissa both get in on the act. The photographers capture the last shots at dusk. They get Marissa, Jared and me in jeans and t-shirts and have us drinking beer in the bed of an old pickup truck out by the railroad tracks.
The Last Virgin in Texas Page 13