"I know, Pretty Girl, I hurt too." He took my mouth again with a growl, and for a moment, I was afraid my underwear would disintegrate from the force of the way he was grabbing at me. I wanted it to. I wanted it gone. Away. Its existence banished.
No more underwear when in the presence of Tucker Haywood.
I found a rhythm, and so did he, harsh pants of breath mingled as I started the most delicious unraveling of pressure. I felt it uncoiling, something big, bigger than I was ready for.
That's when the porch light flipped on.
"Nooooo," I moaned.
"Damn it," Tucker muttered under his breath, which came out against my shoulder in violent exhalations.
My stupid, stupid, about-to-be-dead brother appeared on the front porch, waving jovially, like he hadn't just interrupted the first non-self-induced orgasm that I was experiencing in the last three years. He was lucky I didn't murder him, honestly.
I slid off Tucker's lap when Grady started ambling over to the truck. Tucker leaned forward and covered his lap with one hand. I stifled a giggle at how uncomfortable he looked when he rolled down the drivers' side window.
"Grady," he said with a tight smile.
My brother grinned, the unrepentant asshole. "Tucker, fancy seeing you here."
Tucker gave him a level look.
"Out for dinner? Did y'all have a nice time?"
I slicked my tongue over my teeth. "Go. Away. Grady."
He set a hand on the door and glanced in. "No leftovers for me, huh? I'd ask why you didn't invite me to come too, but as you were just groping my sister, I think I've got my answer."
Tucker swiped a hand over his mouth while I imagined all the ways I could snuff the life out of my twin.
"Don't you have anything better to do?" I asked.
"You know, I really don't." He set his hands on his hips and rocked back on his heels. "I've always wanted to interrupt something like this, just to see the look on her face, but it’s been six years since we've lived under the same roof."
I glared a hole in his forehead, which made him chuckle.
"Gracey, how'd he treat you this evening?"
Tucker rubbed his forehead as I sank back on the bench and leveled a dangerous look at my brother.
Grady nodded. "That good, huh? Excellent. Well, I've got some decaf going, if anyone wants to join me for a cup on the porch. I'll be out here for quite some time, gazing at the stars."
He started walking away, whistling as he did, and Tucker exhaled with a gust.
"We really need to stop hanging out here."
The look on his face, pained and uncomfortable and frustrated, was probably a mirror image of my own. "Well, since I'm going to smother them with a pillow in their sleep, we should be good tomorrow night."
He smiled, leaning over for a sweet kiss that was the complete opposite of what my brother just interrupted. "Oh no, Pretty Girl. Tomorrow night, you're coming home with me."
"Yeah?"
"I have really, really big locks," he whispered against my lips.
Chapter 45
Tucker
My mom wiping tears was the first sign something was very, very wrong when I walked into the office the next morning.
The second was the crash that came from my father's office, followed by a, "Those dirty roman bastards!"
I sighed. Whatever it was, Julius and Caesar were at the heart of it.
"Momma, are you okay?" I set a hand on her back when she blew into a tissue. "What happened?"
She sniffled, waving a hand in front of her face. "Goodness, I must look a fright."
Even with the tears, her makeup was almost flawless, save a single smudge of mascara under one eye, which she homed in on like a bloodhound, even without looking in a mirror. With the edge of a tissue, she wiped it away until all traces of the emotional outburst were gone.
"You look beautiful," I told her. "What happened?"
"J.T. pulled his retainer and switched over to J and C. Just got calls from two other people saying they might do the same."
"Shit," I muttered.
Click, click, click went a few more rocks onto the pile.
"I tried to call you last night to warn you, but it went straight to voicemail. I didn’t want to tell you in a message."
There was nothing in her tone that should have made me feel as guilty as I did. "I, uh, I was in Knoxville last night with a friend."
It felt gross and slimy to say it, to shrink what I was feeling for Grace into that word, but there was absolutely no way that I could admit that I was out on a date with someone who'd all but knocked the heart out of my chest. That was what got us into this mess in the first place.
She nodded, gave another pitiful sniff.
"When did J.T. come in and talk to Dad?"
"Yesterday, right before we closed up. Must've been two minutes before we normally lock the door."
Yesterday, I'd kept the last hour of my day clear so I could go back to my place, shower and shave before picking up Grace. Around the time J.T. came in and took his selfish anger out on my completely innocent parents, I was probably trimming my beard and thinking about how excited I was to spend uninterrupted time with Grace.
Uninterrupted, perfect time. That date could've lasted three times as long and it wouldn't have been enough.
I felt drugged when I thought about her. Thought about her brain and the beautiful way she saw the world, the way she sat and listened to me, like every word I spoke was important to her. The way she kissed me, with no inhibitions, no masking how much she wanted me, and the way she pulled the same response out of me. I almost embarrassed myself last night, messing my jeans like a high school boy who'd never felt a girl's ass. The only thing that stopped me was her brother, who I used to like very much.
My mom looked up at me and opened her mouth to say something when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out and grimaced when I saw Magnolia's name.
"It's Maggie," I told her, then pinched the bridge of my nose. "I should probably get this."
"Ask her why her father is a giant horse’s ass," she called as I walked to my office.
"Will do. Though she might not even know what he did." I gave her an encouraging smile and shut the door behind me. "Hey," I answered.
"How are you?" she asked, voice small and penitent. She knew. She knew all right.
I sank into the chair behind my desk. "Well, I just got into work and my dad is trying to destroy his office since we just lost half our monthly income."
Magnolia sighed. "I didn't ask him to do this, I hope you know that."
"I do. You're not vindictive." But her father was, and she damn well knew it.
"He's not vindictive," she argued. Loyal to a fault. Her entire family was. "My daddy loves me. And he doesn't like seeing me hurt."
"Maggie, come on."
"Don't call me that." Now her voice had a bite I hadn't heard since before I ended things. "You may not agree with the way he does things, but I've never had anyone want to protect me as much as he does."
"You don't need protecting, Magnolia," I said wearily. "You're twice as smart as he gives you credit for. You run his office better than he ever could, and if you walked out tomorrow, it would all go to shit. And he knows it."
"That's not true."
"Fine. Don't admit it then, but I know you know it too."
She sighed. "Sometimes … sometimes I think about leaving. Doing something else. But I think he'd lose his mind."
I leaned back in my chair and let her words filter in, past what I knew of her for the last seven years. It was the first time I'd ever heard her say something like that. And I couldn't help but feel sad at the thought that Maggie and I had more in common than we ever realized.
"Then you should, Magnolia, if that would make you happy. He's so used to getting his own way that when something goes off the rails that he didn't anticipate, he lashes out like a kid who just lost his favorite toy, and after seven years as a p
art of your family, don't even try to tell me differently."
She was quiet, and briefly, I wondered if I'd gone too far. But saying it felt good. Two weeks earlier, I never would've. The consequences wouldn't have been worth it.
"I'm sorry I hurt you," I continued when she didn't say anything.
"So you said." She cleared her throat, and it sounded full, like she was fighting tears. "But you still did. I never saw it coming, Tucker. I think that's what hurts the most. We never fought. Never argued," her voice trailed off.
"Don’t you think that's part of the problem?" I asked. "We just … existed in the same space for so long. Longer than we should have."
"I know." At her admission, I breathed out a sigh of relief. "And I never thought he'd hurt your family for this. I promise."
"I know." I did know. But that didn’t make it easier to wrap my mind around. J.T.’s actions were the number one reason why I felt like I had to draw a heavy, black curtain around my blossoming relationship with Grace. Something that, yes, would block the sun from coming in, but it would protect us. Protect her.
The last thing she needed was to become a target for the gossips and the anger being directed at me. Because of me.
"I tried to talk to him. So did Momma. But he's … well, he's as mad as I've ever seen him. Like you lit his puppy on fire and tossed it on our doorstep or something."
I laughed under my breath at the morbid comparison to the end of our lukewarm relationship. Nothing about that analogy fit the truth. "I had no idea he was so invested."
"I think," she paused and thought for a moment. "I think he had a picture in his head. Of how my life would play out. The kind of person I'd marry, the way it would strengthen our family's role in the city, the kind of legacy it would leave for me and my future when he was gone someday."
Now that I could understand. I thought of my father, down the hall, cursing and breaking lamps or whatever he was choosing as an outlet for his frustration. The frustration was well-deserved, but his intentions toward his only offspring did hold more than a few similarities to J.T. MacIntyre.
"It just seems crazy that you and I can talk civilly about this, and they can't," I said. "It was our relationship, not theirs."
She huffed a laugh. "I guess this is the downside of no siblings for either us. All their carefully plotted eggs are in our baskets."
That made me sigh heavily, the unrelenting truth of it. It was the reason why, for all intents and purposes, I felt handcuffed to the big, wooden desk in front of me, destined to stare up at that damn map for the rest of my life. The freedom to do something that I was passionate about felt like a wispy idea that I couldn't grab onto, couldn't take control of, because there were so many ramifications to the people I cared about.
If my mom was crying about this, I couldn't imagine her reaction if I walked out the door and never walked back in. They'd probably cut me off, in all honesty. Haywood and Haywood would get chopped in half, like a sick tree in need of pruning, with my father headed around the corner to retirement.
"Either way," Maggie continued, her voice softer and sadder, "I wanted to say I'm sorry for what he did. I think he'll come around, but … I can't say how long it'll take."
"I think the damage is done." I spun a pen on my desk in a slow circle. "Maybe I'll get lucky and my dad will fire me because he can't afford two lawyers."
"Why would that make you lucky? You're so good at what you do."
Her shocked question made me smile. That was the bottom line, one that was completely separate from Grace. And it was as much my fault as it was Magnolia's. I couldn't hold her accountable for the thoughts that were kept locked safe in my head. But after seven years, she still couldn't see what this job did to me.
"Being good at something doesn't mean you love it," I said gently. "We were good at being together, Maggie. That doesn't mean we really loved each other. Not the way we should've."
The nickname slipped out, and I winced after I realized it. There was no rebuke though, as she quietly processed what I said.
"I think you're right." She sighed shakily. "I want you to be happy, Tucker. I really do."
"I want the same for you."
She sniffed. "I’ll … I guess I’ll see you around."
"Bye." I hung up and carefully set the phone on the desk. That one conversation felt like more in the way of closure than we'd had when I went to her apartment. A little bit of time, and mutual confusion about the actions of one's parents could help build a bridge between any relationship rift.
My dad blew through the closed door, opening it with such force that it bounced against the wall. "Your mom tell you?"
I nodded. "I'm sorry, Dad. I had no idea he'd really switch."
"That selfish little shit. He was always too big for his britches, thinking he's the benefactor of Green Valley, bestowing all of us peons with his hard-earned money."
It was said with such sarcasm that I almost laughed, because everyone in town knew that most of his money came from his wife's family.
"Want me to talk to him again?" I asked.
He shook his head, smoothing a hand over his mussed hair. "No. It won't do any damn good. I'm going to give him a day or two to calm down, and then see if he'll meet me for coffee or something."
In the waiting area, we paused when my mom picked up an incoming call and spoke in hushed tones.
"Your mom cried herself to sleep last night. She started talking nonsense about how we'd lose our house and be destitute for the rest of our lives." He rubbed a hand over his exhausted looking face.
Somehow, I spoke around the brick of guilt lodged in my throat. "I thought … didn't you pay off the house a couple of years ago?"
"Yes. She just likes to forget things like that in the height of her panic." He straightened his wrinkled tie and glanced behind him. "We'll be fine. We will. Just might take a hard look at the budget until we can pick up a few new clients."
"Did we rely on him that much?" It seemed hard to believe, but judging from the look on my dad's face, it was the truth.
He patted me on the shoulder. "I'll get it taken care of. This won't be the first speed bump we've ever had."
"Okay, if you're sure I can't help."
For a moment, he stared out the window, at the street that cut through the heart of Green Valley, that had been the home of Haywood and Haywood for thirty years. "Just keep doing your job, son. That's the best way you can help."
I spun the pen again when he left, closing the door more gently than when he'd entered.
Just keep doing my job. It's what I'd done since the day they moved my tassel over.
Thinking about the dried tears and smudged mascara on my mom's face, and my dad's messy hair, I did just that for the rest of the day. Barely stopping to eat, I threw myself into every single case file stacked neatly on the corner of my desk, making phone call after phone call, researching precedent and poring over rulings so that the remaining clients that I did have would have zero reasons to seek legal counsel elsewhere.
My eyes were bleary from staring at my computer monitor when my mom peeked her head in to say they were heading home for the day.
I worked for another hour, only stopping when the angry growl of my stomach echoed through my office. Instead of stopping for food after I locked the office up tight, my truck turned itself toward the Buchanan’s place, like my body craved Grace more than any other form of sustenance that could be put in front of me.
It was still warm enough out as the sun set that I could keep the windows of my truck rolled down, and I waved when a biker flew past me on his way toward the mountains. The grove of trees next to Grace's garage apartment was waiting for me as I pulled my vehicle in and wearily pushed the gear shift into park.
It felt silly that I needed to keep it out of sight, but that didn't mean it wasn't necessary, given what had already happened during the course of the last twenty-four hours. If J.T. was this pissed at me for breaking up with Magnolia, I could only i
magine the ramifications on Grace if he had a different, more obvious scapegoat for his daughter's heartbreak.
Complications were hopelessly woven through both our lives, a messy knot that I had no way to untie, but there was no chance I could stay away from her, not with how quickly my feelings were growing, how strong they already were.
The best thing I could do was protect her from the fallout.
As I walked to the door, I could hear the music she was playing, loud and far too rock 'n’ roll for my taste, but if she liked it, I'd give it a chance. Walking into the apartment without knocking was something I'd never normally presume to do after only one date, but nothing about Grace felt casual.
She was standing at the kitchen island, laptop open in front of her and her hips moving slightly to the beat of the song. Her face turned when I walked in, and there was that smile again.
Any exhaustion I felt was gone in a blink. Any pressure that had weighed me down all day, disappeared at the sight of her smile.
It should have scared me, how much sway she had over me, but it didn't.
"Oooh, you may not like your job, but I love how you look when you're playing lawyer," she murmured, sidling over to me with an upturned face. Happily, I took her lips in a kiss, gripping her hip with one hand, the back of her neck with the other. Her own hand slid up my chest until she wound her fist around my tie.
When I tried to lift my head, I realized with a laugh that she was holding it too tightly for me to stand up straight. Which meant I was forced to kiss her again. Deeper this time, my tongue searching hers, with a growl that started deep in my chest because she tasted like strawberries.
"We going to your place with all those big, heavy, sturdy locks?" she asked against my mouth.
I cupped the sides of her face with my hands. "If you're not too busy, I'd love that."
"Should I …" her eyes searched mine while her voice trailed off.
"Why don't you pack a change of clothes," I told her. I dropped a soft kiss on her lips. "Just in case."
"Just in case." She hummed, tucking her hands into the front of my belt. "I like just in case."
The Love at First Sight Box Set Page 39