“Huh,” he says, still sounding a bit perplexed by it. “Well, that’s good, I guess.”
“Do you like romance?” I ask, waving my book so he knows what I’m talking about.
Tucker shakes his head. “Not books, but I have an appreciation for romance in general, being a musician and all.”
“Fair enough. To answer your other question, yes, it’s good. Damn good, actually. I think Josh Walker might be my new main squeeze.”
“What’s it about?”
I frown. “A military brat who has her world blown apart and falls in love with a stud hockey player.”
“Typical everyday life then, huh? Gotcha.”
“Something like that,” I mumble, because I wanted that. Or at least something similar. I push those thoughts away. “Anyway, what are you doing out and about? You always come here? Or here stalking me again?”
He shoots me a look for teasing him. “Lunch break at the shop. I don’t usually leave, but I needed a pick-me-up today. So, Perk it is.”
“You guys staying busy over there?”
“Definitely. Hudson’s still in his honeymoon phase with Rae, so it’s all sunshine and shit around the shop. She stopped in to pick him up for lunch.”
“It’s good to see her happy. She deserves it.”
“They deserve it. They work well together. I could tell they were meant to be from the minute she stepped foot inside Jacked Up. Match made in heaven, those two. It’s almost sickening.”
“And here I was sure I was the only one who thought that. Sickening, but cute.”
Suddenly, Tucker leans across the table, and I automatically lean in toward him, no questions asked. Odd.
He drops his voice to a barely audible whisper. “You’ll never get me to admit it out loud ever again, but it is cute.”
I laugh because that wasn’t at all what I was expecting.
“I’m telling everyone you said that.”
“And I’ll deny it until the end of time,” he says, leaning back in his chair and giving me an almost wicked smile.
That was hot.
Shit. That was wrong of me to say. Or think. Shit.
Did I inadvertently admit to myself Tucker was hot? Or that his smile was hot? Either way, I’ll pretend it didn’t cross my mind.
Dear Brain, move on. Love, Maura.
“So, Maura, are you busy tomorrow night?” Tucker asks.
Wait, what?
“No?”
“Why is that a question?” He laughs. “Anyway, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come to Mic’s? I have a small show tomorrow. The whole gang will be there.”
“Ah, yes. Rae mentioned it last week but I honestly forgot. I had sweet plans that consisted of doing absolutely nothing tomorrow.”
“But now that you’ve remembered you’ll be there, right?”
I shrug again. “I guess I could swing it.”
He frowns at my answer and leans forward again. “Come on. Be sociable, Maura. You can’t sulk forever.” Tucker leans back and taps the table once. “You’re coming. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Conjuring up all those manners my mother had my nannies teach me, I sit up straighter and firmly say, “No thanks. That won’t be necessary.”
Tucker doesn’t budge. “Necessary or not, it’s happening because I don’t trust you not to bail. Again.”
He’d be referring to last month when I was invited to go watch him play, said I’d be there, and didn’t go. It’s nothing against Tucker’s singing, because that, my friends, is phenomenal. It’s me not feeling up to faking “it” for several hours more than I typically have to.
“Again, thank you for the offer, but I’m sure I can make it on my own.”
“I’m sure you can too, but you won’t. Not without a push,” he says. Leaning back across the table, he murmurs, “You don’t have to wear your mask. Leave it at home.”
I suck in a sharp breath because fuck. He’s good. Too good. How in the hell does he see this shit?
“I’m a musician, Maura. Seeing into hearts is my specialty.”
My heart stops briefly. The look he’s giving me isn’t smug or defiant. He’s not challenging me to a game of wits or trying to get the upper hand here. He’s only showing me the cards he’s playing with, letting me know he can see through the bullshit shield I throw out to the world daily.
But little does Tucker know, I don’t cave that easily.
Now it’s my turn to lean across the table, getting my face as close to his as possible without being inappropriate. I look him in his beautiful, golden eyes. “Yeah?” I say. “Well I’m a Doughers, Tucker. Wearing a mask is mine.”
Grabbing my book and coffee, I walk away from Perk while my mask is still in place because there’s no way I’ll let Tucker know how much that rocked me.
I walk into Clyde’s an hour early, relieved to see that Perry is seated at the bar. I walk over and rest my chin on his shoulder. He automatically sets his head against mine.
“Your vibe is off today, dear. What gives?”
“I love that you know me like that, Per. I need that today.”
“Maura, you’ve been in my life for the last ten years. I know you better than you think. Now, what gives?”
I sigh and sit down on the stool next to him. “Nothing gives. That’s my problem.”
I watch as he takes a sip of his soda and then turns to face me for the first time. He’s got a huge shiner on his eye.
“Holy shit balls, Perry! What the hell happened?”
Waving me off, he gives me a cocky grin. “You know me. Mouthy little shit.”
I smile at him. “Hitting on taken girls again?”
He shrugs. “She was flirting back, that’s all I’m sayin’.” I laugh, and Perry automatically grins at me. “I love that me getting my ass whooped makes you so happy, babe. You made my damn heart skip a beat.”
Shoving his shoulder, I tell him, “Shut it or I’ll make the other eye match.”
Perry scoffs. “As if a Doughers would ever throw a punch.”
My newly—and momentarily—lifted mood deflates at the mention of my last name.
I know it sounds ridiculous, but my name is one hell of a burden to bear. You’d think that because my parents are on the boards of multiple high-society-backed charities and throw dozens of “good deed” events a year, it wouldn’t be one, but it is. It so is.
Because being a Doughers means being flawless. It means constantly being on point and having your “happy face” on at all times. You’re never allowed to be sad—at least not in public. You’re never allowed to look anything but your absolute best. And you’re never, ever, allowed to cave under pressure. We must always be “on,” no matter the situation.
So that’s what I do because I’m a Doughers. I’m the daughter of two of the richest people in the state of Massachusetts. I’m the sole beneficiary of millions of dollars. I’m the next in line to host those dozens of yearly events and be the woman in society everyone wants to be.
However, what people don’t know is how hard it is to be that person. How grueling it is to always be on point, to always be perfect. It’s exhausting, tiresome. I would know because that’s all I’ve ever been: Maura Ann Doughers, daughter of John and Norah, perfectionist.
But that’s not me. Not even close.
“I’m sorry,” Perry says quietly. “I know you hate that.”
I give him a tight-lipped smile and shake my head once. “No biggie, Per. It’s my burden to carry.”
He clears his throat and takes another drink. “Why are you here so early?”
“Geez. Does the whole world know my schedule?”
“What?” he asks in obvious confusion.
“Nothing,” I say. “I thought I worked early, but it turns out I don’t.”
He buys my lie and signals for another drink. “You going to Mic’s tomorrow? You hardly get Saturdays off. You gonna spend this one at home alone again?”
I shrug. “I’m no
t sure yet. Tucker seems to think he’s picking me up at seven, but I haven’t decided if I’m going to open the door or not.”
Perry laughs a little. “Yeah? You should. Tucker’s a good bloke.”
“Bloke?” I question, because Perry most definitely shouldn’t be using the word bloke.
“What? I watched this porn the other day and they kept saying it. Thought I’d try it out.”
“Yeah? And how’s that going for you?”
Perry turns toward me fully and points to his battered face. “You see this black eye? That’s about how well it’s going.”
I’m about three hours into my seven-hour shift when I realize I haven’t heard from Tanner tonight. I double-tap his name and listen as the line connects while I head through the kitchen and out back to The Alley, which is a small enclosed patio for employees.
“Hello?” My ears are met with a bunch of voices talking and a song that sounds like Jay Z in the background. “Babe?” I hear Tanner say.
“Tanner? I can hardly hear you.”
“Hang on,” he says. I stay on the line and strain to hear what’s going on in the background. “I’ll be back, Lauren. It’s louder in here than I thought and I gotta take this call.”
“Hurry back. You’ll be missed.”
My heart starts pounding hard because the voice that spoke most definitely did not belong to a man. And it wasn’t a friendly “you’ll be missed” either. Whoever that is was flirting, and she was doing it well. With my boyfriend.
Calm yourself. He’s probably out with buddies drinking. It’s no big deal.
And then I feel guilty for jumping to shitty conclusions when I don’t think I have the right to do so, considering what I’ll be doing the next time I see him.
I mentally give myself a good slap as Tanner comes back on the line.
“Sorry, babe. I’m up at Wayne’s with Sergeant Daag and Benson playing DD. I would have called earlier but I knew you’d be working.”
I let all the unnecessary worry flow out of me because the two people he’s with are the last two people he could cheat with. Sergeant Daag is a man, and Sergeant Benson is an out-and-proud lesbian.
See, Brain? Told you so.
Wait a second. Who’s Lauren?
“It’s okay. I got a chance to take a break and realized I hadn’t heard from you today. Figured I’d try to catch you before you went to bed. I know you have duty tomorrow morning,” I tell him. Taking a deep breath, I ask him a question that’s bound to make me sound like a jackass. “Who’s Lauren?”
He laughs at me. Tanner actually laughs. And he sounds so much like the Tanner I fell in love with. “Maura Ann, is that jealousy I hear in your voice?”
I wince. “Maybe? Which is dumb because I have no legitimate reason to be jealous.”
“Bullshit. You have every right to be jealous.” As far as he knows. “You’re my girl, Maurie. You get to be as jealous as you want. Plus, it’s hot.”
I laugh lightly because only Tanner—both versions of him—would find that attractive. He can be such an ass.
“Maura?”
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Lauren is Benson’s girlfriend. She’s flirty with everyone but one hundred percent committed to Benson. I promise you have nothing to worry about.”
I let out a deep breath and relax. I am going to break up with him, but I do still care about him, and he’s still a good friend. He’s the guy I handed my virginity to. I don’t want him to cheat. Our friendship would be ruined, and that’s the last thing I want to happen.
“Good. That’s…good.”
“I miss you,” he says quietly.
I grin at his admission. I must have hit the jackpot tonight because the more this conversation goes on, the more we start to sound like our old selves. It almost makes me not want to break it off. But all it does is make my heart hurt because these moments I have with Tanner are so few and far between now. My heart aches for what once was with him, what’s now too far gone.
“I miss you too, Tanner. More than you know,” I tell him, not only referring to him but to us—or who we used to be.
“Your ten minutes are up,” he tells me. “And I’ve gotta get back in there to watch Daag. He’s on the prowl tonight. No telling what trouble he’s gonna get into.”
“Daag is a fun drunk.” I laugh. “I’ll get back to work and you get back to babysitting. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Maurie. I love you.”
I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “You too,” I say, and then I end the call.
Closing my eyes, I lean back against the wood panel and try to calm down, because I just realized how much harder this is going to be than I originally thought.
The idea of losing Tanner’s friendship terrifies me. We have one of those bonds that you know you need in your life. Even if we’re not a good couple, there’s no denying that part of us.
But now, I’m scared we’re gonna lose that.
And it will be all my fault.
I pause the movie that’s playing on my laptop as a knock sounds on my bedroom door.
“Hey, kiddo. There’s a sexy tattooed man at the door for you. I don’t know if your boyfriend knows you’re associating with him, but if he doesn’t, don’t tell him. This hottie is grounds for major jealousy.”
I’m not sure whether I should laugh or scream because Tucker is here. I was hoping that if I ignored his ten text messages and two phone calls, he’d take the hint and leave me alone. Guess it didn’t work.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I say. “He actually had the balls to show up here.”
“Mmm. And I’m so glad he did,” Kassi says, practically melting into a puddle.
Grabbing the nearest pillow, I throw it at my aunt. “Go away, you weirdo. And tell him to leave while you’re at it.”
“Oh, honey, you couldn’t pay me to turn that man away. Have you seen his eyes?” she says, fanning herself.
Yes, yes I have. And they’re breathtaking. Everything about Tucker is breathtaking. Which is part of the reason I attempt to avoid him like the plague and have always dodged that line of thinking. I shouldn’t find my boyfriend’s brother as attractive as I do. I’m sure it goes against a moral code or two.
“Please? Get rid of him,” I beg. “Tell him I’m super sick and it’s horribly contagious. Please?”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “You ruin all the damn fun. Fun-sucker,” she says as she shuts my door and goes to send Tucker on his way.
I groan and lie back on my bed, wishing she hadn’t brought up how attractive Tucker is, because that’s all I can think about now. It was easy for me to ignore how attractive he is when Tanner was here, but ever since he left I haven’t been as lucky.
Tucker is hot. Super fucking hot.
Tanner is exactly the type of guy I should be attracted to. But Tucker is exactly the type of guy I am attracted to. However, tattoos and plaid aren’t on the Doughers’ radar. And neither is being a mechanic and musician. No matter how attractive Tucker is, he’ll always be placed on my Fantasy Guy list.
Never mind the fact that he’s my boyfriend’s brother.
Another knock sounds on my door. I get up to answer it this time.
“Did he buy it?” I say as I open the door.
“He didn’t.”
I try to slam the door shut again, but a gigantic Converse-covered foot sneaks its way in between the door and frame.
“KASSI GARRETT YOU’RE A HORRIBLE PERSON!” I shout.
“I’m sorry! He’s just so cute! He charmed his way in!” she yells back.
“Traitor!”
I’m still trying to push the door closed, and Tucker is still trying to push it open and make his way into my room.
Into my life.
And he’s winning.
I finally give in—probably to both—and let go of the door, causing him to stumble into the room.
He straightens himself and then shoots me a smirk. It’s
immediately transformed into a grimace. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
I glance down at my purple yoga pants and ratted t-shirt.
Putting my hands on my waist, I jut my hip out to the side. “What? Don’t I look hot?”
“Oh, you’re always hot, Maura,” he easily replies, taking a seat on my bed. On my bed! “But I know you, and that outfit is definitely not up to your usual exquisitely fashionable par. So get dressed and let’s roll. We gotta be out of here in ten minutes, princess.”
He reaches over and grabs my laptop, presses play on the movie I was watching, and makes himself comfortable on my bed. On my damn bed!
“Are you freaking—”
He quickly hits pause and peeks over at me. “Hey, don’t be rude. I’m trying to watch a movie. This is my favorite part, and you’re ruining it.”
Tucker taps the laptop again and sounds of explosions fill the air.
That ass! I stand there in absolute shock over the audacity this man holds. He barges into my room, sits on my bed, watches my movie, and bosses me around.
The saddest part of all this is that I’m walking toward my closest and pulling out clothes to wear tonight. A part of me finds it sweet he came over to make sure I go, and another part finds it annoying.
In this moment, sweet is winning.
Padding toward the adjoining bathroom, I stop to glance back at Tucker, who is absorbed in my movie. I grab the closest thing to me—a stuffed bear Tanner won for me from a claw machine last September—and throw it at Tucker’s smug face.
I hear him shouting, “Fuck! My eye!” as I close the door.
Maura: 1; Tucker: 3.
“Buckle up. I hear I’m a crazy driver,” Tucker says as he settles himself into the driver’s seat of his black ‘96 BMW M3. I don’t know jack shit about cars, but I know that Tucker has put in a lot of work to make this car unique, fast, and sexy. He’s successfully accomplished all three.
“Joy.”
“Tsk, tsk, Maura. We’re happy tonight. It’ll be fun,” he says.
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