by Kait Nolan
“Good to see you, buddy. We appreciate the support, Mrs. Dawson,” he added.
Marianne looked him up and down. “Well, didn’t you grow up fine? You were such a gangly thing in high school.”
“Hit college and filled out,” he said easily, despite the fact that he recognized a cougar survey when he saw one. Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.
“You look pretty, Mommy.”
The false smile turned real as Corinne looked down at her son. “Thanks, kiddo.”
Kurt’s attention shifted over to him. “You look like that guy in that movie.”
Depending on which movie, that was a pretty dead on assessment, Tucker decided.
“Hey there, little man.” He crouched down, pointing at the Chewbacca doll Kurt had clutched in one arm. “I see you brought part of the Rebel Alliance to cheer us on.”
Kurt’s eyes got round as saucers. “You know Star Wars?”
He nodded gravely. “I do.”
“I’m gonna be a Jedi when I grow up.”
Tucker grinned. “Best job ever!” He offered his fist for a knuckle bump. The boy bumped his fist with enthusiasm and a matching grin. No wonder he was the center of Corinne’s world. He was a great kid.
“Are you a Jedi?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“What’s a lawyer?”
“Uh.” How did one explain that to a five year old?
Corinne scooped him up. “There are different kinds, but a lawyer is someone who fights for what is right and to make sure people are getting what’s fair according to the law.”
“Jedis fight for what’s right.”
“That’s right, they do. But instead of lightsabers, lawyers use words,” Corinne told him.
Kurt pondered for a minute. “I’d rather have a lightsaber.”
Tucker laughed. “Me too, kid. Me too.”
One of the volunteers tapped him on the shoulder. “Five minutes to start.”
“Thanks.” Tucker smiled at Kurt. “It was nice to see you again, Kurt. You and your grandma need to go find your seats.”
Kurt gave his mother a smacking kiss. “Good luck, Mommy.”
She squeezed him. “Thanks, baby.”
Marianne held out her hand for her grandson’s. She divided a look between Corinne and Tucker. “Don’t screw this up.”
What a fucked up way to say ‘Good luck’.
As the pair of them walked away, Tyler came over. “Was that your Kurt?”
Corinne looked startled. “Yes, it was.”
“My goodness, he’s grown since I saw him last year! And I remember him being so shy.” Tyler smiled at her.
After a brief hesitation Corinne answered. “That phase has officially ended. He talks pretty much from the moment he gets out of bed until his head hits the pillow. And sometimes in his sleep, too.”
Tucker reached for her hand. “We’ve gotta get in position.”
“Break a leg, you two!”
“That’s theater speak for ‘good luck’,” he reminded Corinne.
She blinked a moment. “Thank you.”
Tucker mouthed his own “Thanks” back at Tyler before following the waiting staffer to the doors leading into the ballroom.
“Oh my God. It’s packed,” Corinne whispered.
“Norah organized it. Of course it’s packed. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”
From inside the ballroom, the emcee’s voice boomed over the sound system. “Welcome to Dancing With Wishful!”
Corinne’s hand tightened in his as the announcer went through the opening spiel, talking about sponsors, introducing judges, and explaining to those watching at home how they could cast their vote online. And then it was time.
“Without further ado, let’s give a warm, Wishful welcome to our first dancers of the night, Team Dinner Belles’ Tucker McGee and Corinne Dawson, performing the jive.”
He could feel her nerves telegraphing up his arm as they walked out to the center of the ballroom. They’d have to split. The routine began with him at one end and her at the other. Before they parted, he bent his head to her ear. “Remember to breathe and look at me. It’s just us. We’re here to have fun.”
“Fun,” she repeated.
Tucker let her go and took his position.
~*~
Corinne’s dance shoes echoed in the weighty silence as she took her position. Her heart fluttered madly in her throat.
Breathe, she reminded herself.
Pivoting to face her partner, she took a long, deep breath. He pointed to her with two fingers and flicked them up to his eyes.
Okay. Just watch Tucker. It’s just me and Tucker. She nodded at him, taking in his maroon dinner jacket and bow tie and grinning, despite the nerves. He’d picked this for her, and she loved that. So when the opening bars of “Footloose” rolled out of the speakers, Corinne did as he’d asked. She had fun.
He made it easy. Everything, it seemed, was easy with Tucker. Corinne matched him step-for-step. She relaxed into the music and let him throw her around like a rag doll. Their kicks were high and in sync, their footwork perfect. When it came time for the back flip, she mirrored him—and damn if she didn’t nail it, even in dance shoes. A thrill of triumph shot through her. She felt a bigger one when she successfully sank into the splits before him on the last note and the applause thundered around them.
Tucker lifted her to her feet. They grinned at each other like loons and took their bows.
“Tucker McGee, ladies and gentlemen. Proving he’s still every girl’s favorite prom date. Let’s give him and Corinne another round of applause while the judges calculate their scores.”
He slid his arm around her waist. “We did it!”
“Yes, we damn well did,” she agreed, giving him a squeeze.
“Let’s hear from our judges.”
They shifted toward the raised dais, where the three judges all lifted their paddles.
“Team Dinner Belles earned an eight, a nine, and another eight. An admirable performance to kick us off on this first night of competition here at Dancing With Wishful.”
Corinne and Tucker walked off the floor, waving to the crowd. “I see why you like the applause.”
“Awesome, isn’t it?”
She caught sight of Whitney at one of the tables they passed. Whitney leaned over to speak to a well-dressed man beside her. “Somebody should remember she’s not in high school anymore and doesn’t have the body to pull off that dress.”
Corinne’s pleasure dimmed.
As soon as they cleared the crowd, they were surrounded by well wishers, all clamoring to speak to Tucker. She turned to him and forced a smile. “I’ll be back in a minute. I want to step out for some air.”
He shot her a questioning look as she pulled free. Corinne gave him an I’m fine wave and made a beeline for the elevator. She punched the button for the roof and didn’t take a proper breath until the doors closed.
Of course she wasn’t in high school anymore. Being a mom, she absolutely didn’t have the body she’d had at eighteen. Is that really what people thought? That she was out there pretending she was still in high school? Reliving some kind of glory days?
When the doors slid open, Corinne moved quickly through the small vestibule and pushed through the glass doors leading out to the lush rooftop gardens that gave the hotel its name. No one was up here. She was pitifully grateful for that as she sank down on one of the stone benches. She didn’t need anyone else to slap her in the face with reality.
It had been so lovely, for that few minutes, to escape her reality. To not feel like a pariah or a screw up.
All good dreams come to an end.
“Is this bench taken?”
Corinne jolted at the sound of Tucker’s voice. She hadn’t heard him follow her up.
He didn’t wait for an invitation before wedging himself beside her on the bench and sliding an arm around her shoulders.
“We busted our asses for tonight and it paid off.
You were dynamite out there, and you look goddamned amazing. Don’t let the words of one bitter, angry woman ruin everything we’ve worked for.”
Of course he’d heard. Her cheeks heated and she dropped her gaze to her lap, ashamed, though of what, exactly, she wasn’t sure.
Tucker cupped her cheek, forced her to face him. His usually jovial face was serious. “Stop letting the opinions of assholes be your truth. You are a talented, beautiful, hardworking woman. It’s time you started believing that.”
Corinne stared at him, this lovely, kind man, who couldn’t possibly be more different from Lance. He took the time to build her up instead of tearing her down. Had she ever truly had someone like that in her life?
“You’re sweet, Tucker.” He’d made her feel better, and she hadn’t expected that. She tipped her face up and brushed her lips lightly over his in gratitude.
But as she pulled back, his hand slid deeper into her hair, trapping her. She had time for one, brief pulse of surprise and awareness before his mouth covered hers. And her mind simply emptied. Sweet? She’d thought him sweet? His kiss rocketed from zero to explosive in less than a second, sparking something inside her long since dormant. She leaned into him, wanting more, sliding her hand into the short strands of his hair, holding him to her. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened to him, enjoying his taste as it seeped into her. Someone groaned. Him? Her? She didn’t know. But he gentled the kiss, stroking his hands lightly up and down her spine before easing back.
They sat on the stone bench in the pretty garden, surrounded by the scents of honeysuckle and jasmine, breathing hard and staring at each other.
Corinne’s brain was struggling to come back online and failing. “That was...I...” What did a girl say when she’d just had her mind blown by an unexpected kiss?
“I’d apologize, but I’d be lying. I’ve been wanting to do that for nearly fifteen years.”
Surprised pleasure slid through her, almost as seductive as the taste of his lips. “Seriously?” She couldn’t even imagine.
Tucker took a deep breath and offered a self deprecatory smile. “Confession time: I had the biggest crush on you in high school.”
“Why? I was horrible. And I kept throwing myself at your best friend.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back.
“Everybody’s allowed at least one crush to make a fool of themselves over.”
“And who was yours?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Remember all those notes in your locker senior year?”
For months after homecoming, she’d had daily notes and the occasional tiny gifts left in her locker. Flowers. Candy. Never anything extravagant. The gifts had been nice, but it was the regular messages reminding her she was someone special that had touched her. She’d cherished those notes. They’d gotten her through some dark days. And she’d never known who left them.
“That was you?” she whispered. Even as he gave a sheepish shrug, she knew it had been. Because he was still the guy who made an effort to build her up.
“Why?”
“Because sometimes the cheerleader needs cheerleading.”
Knowing it had been him made the anonymous gesture from back then feel suddenly intimate. Corinne didn’t even know how to feel about that right now. She gave a half laugh. “Maybe that’s why she did it.”
“Why who did what?”
“Mama Pearl faked her sprained ankle. She said I needed a little fun in my life. Evidently you’re the poster boy.” She looked up at him as a sinking sort of suspicion wormed its way into her brain. “Were you in on it? Is this whole thing about living out some kind of…I don’t know, latent high school fantasy?”
“No. I wasn’t in on Mama Pearl’s plan, though I figured it out quickly enough. This isn’t about a high school fantasy. Or at least, not entirely.” He skimmed a thumb over her cheek and she shivered. “I know you’re not the same girl. I liked the girl. But I’m a helluva lot more attracted to the woman. Have been since you walked back into town.”
He’d made her speechless again. She wanted so desperately to see herself as he saw her. What did that even look like? Was she willing to risk testing the waters here for the chance to find out?
“Tucker, my life is really complicated.”
He smiled. “I know. No pressure. Just wanted to put it out there.” Rising, he pulled her to her feet. “Why don’t we head on back down and watch the rest of the competition for the night?”
So she filed away this new information to think about later, when she was alone and had more than two brain cells to rub together, and followed him back to the ballroom.
Chapter 8
“To surviving the first round of competition!”
Tucker lifted his beer automatically in response to Brody’s toast, but he was only half listening.
She’s not coming.
When he’d texted Corinne earlier with an invite to a celebration for the victors of Round 1 of Dancing With Wishful, she’d said she’d stop by after work if she could. But after half an hour of watching the door to Speakeasy, while trying not to look like he was watching, she was a no show. And that disappointed him more than he wanted to admit. He worried it was more than her just bailing to study. Maybe he’d pushed her too far with the kiss. That explosive, amazing, better than all of his high school dreams combined kiss that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. She’d been right there with him on that rooftop. But maybe she’d talked herself out of taking a risk to see where things went. And that would be a damned shame.
“What’d y’all draw this next go round?” Cam asked.
“The Charleston.” Another glance at the door and his pulse leapt. There she was, standing inside the entryway, hands twisting the strap of her purse as she scanned the room.
“We got salsa. I am not at all sure my hips can do—”
Tucker stood up. “Be back.”
By the time he made it to the front, she was out on the sidewalk. She’d almost made the corner when he bolted outside.
“Corinne!”
She stopped in her tracks, shoulders tensing.
Caught.
“Hey Tucker. I was just…I thought I’d have time to stop by, but I really need to be getting home to study. I haven’t put in enough hours this week, with rehearsal and everything.” Again with the twisting of the purse strap, and she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes.
He ducked down so he could look into hers. “You came over here just to walk away?”
She was going to lie, to blow him off. He could see it in her face. So he reached for her hand, the one not squeezing the life out of her purse strap. She looked down at their twined fingers.
“Why are you really running away?” he asked quietly.
Corinne lifted her head to look at him then, and he could see what it cost her. “Because going in there and hanging out with all your friends is about the scariest thing I can imagine for a social situation.”
Everything in him wanted to gather her up, to soothe that worry away. But he ordered himself to keep things easy between them, so he settled for stroking his thumb on the back of her hand. “Is this about not wanting to face them? Or me?”
Her voice was small as she admitted, “Some of both.”
Tucker untangled her other hand so he had them both, because he needed to touch her. Needed to make this better. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.”
Her hands flexed in his and she let out an irritated huff. “I’m not scared. I’ve been scared. This is—I don’t know what this is. It makes me nervous. You make me nervous.”
I make her nervous? Nervous meant she felt something. More than a little something, he was guessing. Tucker liked that a bit too much and wanted to use the information to tease a smile out of her. But he knew she wasn’t in the right frame of mind, so he held in the cocky grin and kept his voice gentle. “You’ve earned the chance to celebrate. This is your achieveme
nt, too. Come inside. Just for a little while.”
She bit the lip he hadn’t stopped fantasizing about. “I don’t know, Tucker.”
“C’mon. For me?” He squeezed her hands. “I’ve got you.”
She hesitated. “Well, Kurt’s already had supper. I guess I could come in for one slice.”
“That’s a girl.”
Tucker kept her hand in his until they got through the door, then switched to nudging her at the small of her back. He was aware of his friends’ curiosity as they approached the table, cognizant of the need to walk the line between behaving like he and Corinne were a couple—which they weren’t—but still making it clear to his friends she was with him and they’d damned well better behave. Back at the big table there was a beat or three of silence, a few raised eyebrows.
Then Norah—bless her—offered a broad smile and said, “That back flip’s been the talk of the town! How on Earth did you pull it off? In dance shoes no less?”
“I was, um, a cheerleader all through high school.”
“Head cheerleader,” Tucker added.
When Corinne began to twist the purse strap again, he tugged it from her shoulder and looped it over the chair he’d pulled out for her. With a quick, almost panicked look in his direction, she sank into the chair. He dropped back into his beside her and reached for one of the hands trying to white knuckle the chair edge.
“What’ll it be?” asked Tyler. “Pepperoni? Vegetarian? Supreme? I’d offer meat lover’s but it’s already been wiped out.”
“Oh I—a slice of supreme, please. Thanks.”
“I still can’t get over those acrobatics,” Norah continued. “If I tried to do any of that, my partner would be taking his life into his hands.”
Corinne’s lips twitched as she glanced at Tucker. “I did hear something to that effect.”
Norah laughed. “Hand to God, I have no skill in that department.”
“You’ve got a multitude of other skills, Wonder Woman.” Cam leaned over to punctuate the statement with a kiss.
“Get a room,” Brody called.
“Better yet, get a wedding date,” Tucker added.
“We’re working on it. Every time we think we have one nailed down, something comes up,” she said.