Rachel Van Dyken – All Stars Fall
Samantha Young – Hold On
Enjoy the first chapter of NOTHING WITHOUT YOU now!
“Tucker McCloud is back in town.”
I nearly drop the cake pan I’m carrying over to the counter at my older sister’s nonchalant statement. I set it down with a loud plop, glaring at Brooke.
She doesn’t even bother lifting her head. She’s too busy studying her phone screen, scrolling through Facebook.
It’s a Sunday afternoon and for some reason, I was full of nervous energy, so I decided to mess around in the kitchen like I do and come up with new cake flavors. When I texted Brooke to come over, she didn’t even hesitate.
“Are you serious right now?” I practically screech, then take a deep breath.
No biggie. No big deal. Nope, I don’t care that Tucker’s back in town. It’s probably a rumor. It’s happened before. The residents of Cunningham Falls are always eager to welcome back their hometown boy who made good. The first football player from our high school to ever sign with the NFL, he’s a big deal around here.
Not to me, though. I’d rather pretend he never even existed.
“His sister posted a photo of him last night,” Brooke says, her eyes still glued to her phone screen.
I walk over to where she’s standing, ignoring my rapidly beating heart. When she still doesn’t bother looking up, I thrust my hand between her face and her phone, snapping my fingers. She hates it when I do that. “Brooke.”
Brooke’s head snaps up, her brown eyes narrow. “What?”
“Show me the photo.” My voice is surprisingly calm, considering how jittery I suddenly feel.
She goes to the search box, enters in Tucker’s sister’s name—Stella McCloud—and clicks on Stella’s profile. “Looks like they had a family get-together over the weekend, and Tucker came home for it,” she explains as she starts scrolling, looking for those photos. “Ah, here they are—”
I snatch the phone out of her hand before she can say anything else, earning an irritated, “hey!” for my efforts, but I ignore her. I’m too hell bent on finding the photo of Tucker.
Brooke’s right, I realize as I start examining each and every photo—forty-eight in all. There was definitely a family get-together over the weekend for the McCloud clan, and let me tell you, their clan is a big one. They’re one of the largest families in the area. Tucker has lots of siblings—six besides him—and he’s smack dab in the middle. The middle child always craves attention. It’s a known fact.
And Tucker was the biggest attention hog I knew. From his antics on the football field and on social media, I’m guessing that’s still true.
I stop on a photo of the entire family gathered together, and I spot him immediately. Very back row, on the far right. Tall and imposing with those broad shoulders and the light brown hair and the laughing eyes. Ugh.
He’s still ridiculously good looking.
It’s so annoying.
The photos are endless, and I’m surprised to see every single McCloud sibling is there. Only three out of the six remain in town, including Stella, the youngest. She’s a teacher at the local elementary school, and Wyatt, is the football coach at the high school in the next town over. Wyatt is considered one of the most appealing bachelors left in the area—thirty-four, still single, attractive and with a good job. Women call him the uncatchable catch.
Just like his stupid twin brother, Tucker.
My ex-boyfriend. My high school sweetheart. The boy who took me to all the big dances, who made out with me in the cab of his truck after every single game, who snuck through my window in the middle of the night so he could sleep with me, even for just an hour. The first boy to tell me he loved me. The boy who gave me my first orgasm. The boy who told me he couldn’t breathe if he didn’t have me in his life.
This is the same boy who got a football scholarship from a D-1 school and broke up with me, all in the same day. So excuse the above fact I just listed. He didn’t take me to all the big dances. I didn’t go to his senior prom, but neither did he.
Little consolation for how badly he destroyed me.
“He looks great, right?” Brooke says, her innocent question breaking through my nostalgic thoughts. “Actually, they all do. The McClouds are a good looking bunch.”
I pause on a photo of the brothers, four in all. Hunter, Colton, Tucker and Wyatt, their arms around each other’s shoulders, matching smiles on their faces. Yes, they’re all attractive. Hunter and Colton are both married, and Hunter already has children. The twins are single and handsome, but only one McCloud makes my heart thump wildly and my breath catch.
And all I’m doing is looking at a photo of him on Facebook, for the love of God.
“He looks phony,” I say as I hand the phone back to Brooke, the only insult I can come up with in my muddled by Tucker brain. It’s starting to hit me that we’re in the same state. We’re in the same town. I could bump into him at any given moment and I wonder what I might do if that happened. Hug him?
Or punch him in the face?
“Phony?” Brooke actually snorts, something she normally doesn’t do. My older sister has her shit together. She owns Brooke’s Blooms, and she is the most popular florist in town. Oh, and she just so happens to be married to one of the hottest men alive, Brody Chabot. They are so in love, it’s a little sickening.
Fine, I’m just jealous.
“Slick. Almost too perfect,” I say, redefining my phony statement. “Look at his hair.” He has amazing hair. Soft. He liked it when I ran my fingers through it. I’d be sitting on the couch and he’d rest his head in my lap, staring up at me with his beautiful blue eyes, practically begging me to stroke his hair. And I always would…
Brooke comes to stand beside me, peering over my shoulder. “At least he still has hair.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” I ask incredulously, wondering if I’d still find Tucker attractive even if he was bald. Probably. “He’s not that old.”
“There were a lot of guys at my ten year reunion who were already balding,” Brooke points out. “You said the same thing about yours.”
Tucker didn’t even show up to Brooke’s ten year reunion—they graduated in the same class. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I’m trying not to focus on his extraordinarily good looking face.”
Huh. Of course, this means I have to stare at his extraordinarily good looking face. And my sister’s right. He’s so freaking hot.
I hate him.
“And his body. I mean, did you see the endorsement he had with that one underwear line a couple years ago? We pretty much saw everything.” I glance up at her just in time to see her wrinkle her nose. “Some things I didn’t want to see, too.”
“Like what?” I saw the photos from the underwear campaign. I might have a secret board on Pinterest where I can study them on rare occasion.
“Like the outline of his—” Brooke points down below. “Junk. Some things I don’t want to know, Maise.”
Now it’s my turn to grimace. “Some things I don’t really want to know either, Brooke. Like you have an idea of what Tucker’s junk looks like.”
“I definitely know his junk is nothing to sneeze at.” Brooke bursts out laughing the second she says the words. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“You’re the one who brought it up!” I’m tempted to go on my phone and look at those photos again. I’m friends with Stella too. We were close in school. We still occasionally get together for lunch or drinks, and we talk about everything and everyone with the exception of Tucker.
Stella knows he’s off limits.
“You think he already went back to California?” I ask when Brooke hasn’t said anything.
“Why? Hoping you’ll run into him?” Brooke smiles, her eyes sparkling. She just got back from her honeymoon and she’s so happy. Wedded bliss looks good on her. Looks good on her h
usband, too. Brody can’t stop smiling either. It’s so sweet to see them together.
Makes me a little bit envious. I wish I could find someone like Brody. It’s hard, though, when I’m so busy making wedding cakes for all the other blissed out couples in town getting married.
Speaking of wedding cakes…
“I need to frost this thing,” I say, grabbing the cake pan and setting it on the cooling rack. “And then I want you to give it a try.”
“You should’ve invited Brody over to sample it.”
“Um…” I hesitate, not wanting to offend. “He kind of makes me nervous,” I say with a wince.
Brooke glances up, her expression surprised. “But why? He loves everything you make.”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I want him to be honest with me.”
“He’s always honest.”
“He likes everything I bake. Even the gross stuff.”
Brooke laughs. “He’s easy to please when it comes to sweets.”
“Uh huh.” My voice is dripping with sarcasm and I grab the bowl full of frosting I made earlier. It’s just the base. I’m going to add a few things to it now to correspond with the cake. “You’re honest. You tell me if what you just ate is total crap.”
“Nothing you make is ever crap, and you know it,” Brooke says with all that older sister authority she’s so good at delivering. “Sometimes, you get a little—out there with your flavors, but that’s always in good fun. You know what works for your business and you stick with it.”
“You might not say that about the cake I’m going to serve you here in a bit.” It’s orange. As in, it’s flavored with orange, the cake itself is bright orange, and the frosting is going to have a hint of orange flavor, as well as a pale orange color. Simple, right? But kind of daring, because no one hardly ever has an orange cake anymore. It’s always lemon. Sometimes strawberry, though that can be terribly sweet.
Orange is from the seventies. Mom still fantasizes about some orange Bundt cake she ate when she was a kid at someone’s birthday party. She wants to find the duplicate of that cake. So when I’m bored, I go in search of it, trying to recreate her memories of sunshine and summer—that’s how she describes the taste of the cake. Later tonight, I’ll bring Mom a slice.
If it’s any good, that is.
“I’m not worried,” Brooke says with all the assuredness in the world. I appreciate her total belief in me. I always have. We’ve always been super close. Only a year apart in school, we shared friends, though never boyfriends, thank goodness. That would just be too weird.
Tucker was in her class, and so was Brody. Brody and Tucker were friends, though they didn’t necessarily hang out together. Brody pretty much kept to himself. Brooke explained everything to me right before they got married, confessing that his father was a total monster. So he distanced himself from everyone, including Brooke.
Yet look at them now.
Sighing happily, I reach for the tiny bottle of orange extract and twist off the cap, adding a couple of drops to the vanilla frosting. I have a small bowl full of orange zest I made earlier, and I grab a pinch, sprinkling it into the bowl. Then I grab a spoon and start stirring.
“Not using your mixer?” Brooke asks.
“This one is—delicate,” I tell her, hoping she understands. “I have to get the flavors balanced just right. I’d rather do it by hand.”
“The master at work.” Brooke rises to her feet and starts to exit my kitchen, coming to a stop right beside me so she can press a quick kiss to my cheek. “I want a slice, but I have to go.”
I pause in my stirring. “You didn’t even get to taste it yet.”
Brody just texted me, asking if I’d meet him for dinner, so I need to go home and take a shower. He mentioned he has a surprise for me.” She smiles. “You should join us.”
Frowning, I shake my head. “What if your surprise is his—penis wrapped in neon pink paper?”
Brooke laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. “Seriously, Brooke! We’re meeting for dinner. In public. He’s not going to present me his penis at the dinner table.”
This conversation just took a weird and confusing turn. “You never know,” I mumble, my cheeks hot. I don’t want to go to dinner with them. Oh, I know they’ll include me in their conversations and make it be about the three of us versus the two of them, but still. I’ll feel like a third wheel. Witnessing their love is both beautiful yet pathetic.
As in, they make a beautiful couple. And they make me feel pathetic.
“You’re being ridiculous.” Another kiss on the cheek from my sister and then she’s gone, the scent of her flowery perfume still lingering in the kitchen. “I’m going to text you later!” she calls as she opens the front door. “Convince you to come to dinner with us!”
“And be the tag along little sister during your romantic dinner where he gives you a surprise? No thanks,” I mutter under my breath, ignoring how my arm aches. My date tonight is with my kitchen and this orange cake. That way I can be alone with my thoughts.
My Tucker McCloud-filled thoughts.
Read other books by Monica Murphy
Monica Murphy is the New York Times, USA Today and #1 international bestselling author of the One Week Girlfriend series, the Billionaire Bachelors and The Rules series. Her books have been translated in almost a dozen languages and has sold over one million copies worldwide. She is a traditionally published author with Bantam/Random House and Harper Collins/Avon, as well as an independently published author. She writes new adult, young adult and contemporary romance. She is also USA Today bestselling romance author Karen Erickson.
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Thinking About You
Copyright 2018 by Monica Murphy
This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
Published in the United States of America
First electronic publication: January 2019 by Monica Murphy.
www.monicamurphyauthor.com
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