by Holly Jaymes
Her smile faltered. “If you don’t want me to stay—”
“I didn’t say that.” Truth was, now that she was here, I very much wanted her to stay. I nodded toward the back of the condo. “My kitchen is that way,” I said hoping she wouldn’t leave.
She walked back, with me following her wondering what Mason would do if he found out she was here.
“I’m sorry I was an asshole earlier,” I said as I remembered I’d been a bit of a jerk.
“I get grumpy when I’m in pain too,” she said as she looked around the kitchen. She stopped when she saw the painting I’d bought hanging in the eat-in section of the kitchen. I’d finally hung it up. “Looks good there.”
“I think so too.” I studied her a moment, wondering if she was judging me for recognizing it as McLean’s Corner.
She turned back to the kitchen and started opening cupboard doors.
“Glasses are up there,” I said pointing with my left hand. It felt weird having her be the hostess, but I wanted her to stay, so I’d let her do whatever she came to do. “I’ve got water, juice and milk.”
She opened the fridge. “You have lots of fruit.”
“Smoothies.”
She looked at me as she pulled the pitcher of orange juice out. “So you’ve been avoiding coming to Paradise Java?”
I sat at my dining table. “I figured you didn’t want to see me.”
She turned away to get a glass from the cupboard and poured two glasses of juice. “You confuse me, Tucker.”
I frowned. What did that mean? “I’m sorry.” It was the only response I could come up with.
She gave a soft laugh as she set the juice in front of me. Then her eye caught the balcony. “Look at your view.”
I turned. “It’s not as nice as yours.” Remembering my manners, I stood and opened the sliding door. She stepped out and I picked up my juice and followed her, sitting in the chair next to the one she took a seat in.
We sat in silence for a moment. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “What do you mean, I confuse you?”
She looked down into her juice. “You’re not the man I thought you were.”
“Is that good or bad?”
Her long hair fell by her face and I couldn’t see her expression. I wanted to reach over and push the long, lovely red locks back. Instead, I took a sip of my juice.
“Both, I suppose.”
“Huh.” I didn’t know what to make of that so I turned my gaze out toward the lake.
“I mean, it’s good, because, as you may have guessed, I didn’t hold you in very high regard.”
“That’s an understatement. So why is it bad if it turns out I’m not as big of a jerk as you thought I was?”
Her nervous smile was sweet. I wanted to take her hand and offer her reassurance. It was an odd feeling. I’d never felt protective of a woman before.
“Because I like you when I don’t think you’re a jerk.”
I laughed. “I have that effect on a lot of people. I drive Mason crazy. People can’t help but love me.”
She smiled. “He said you were like a puppy.”
I frowned. That didn’t sound like a compliment. “Why would he say that?”
“You’re always happy and exuberant. He’s right. You live life full-throttle, don’t you? That’s part of what the partying is about.”
I looked away, for the first time embarrassed by my playboy reputation. “I like to have fun, but … the last few months, I think that was more about trying to ignore my situation.”
“Situation?”
“My injury. My job.”
She nodded. “Well, if that doesn’t work out, you can live on Mrs. Minor’s island.”
I quirked a brow. “I’m on her island?”
She nodded.
I looked over at her. “What about you? Who is on your island? Wyatt?”
She looked at me. “Why would you say that?”
I turned my gaze back to the lake, wishing I hadn’t brought him up. “I heard you two getting engaged near the produce.”
“That was just joking as Mrs. Minor tried to set us up. We’re friends. That’s it.”
Wanting to get back to the lighter conversation, I asked, “So, who’s on your island?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t even know what that meant until she and Mr. Minor were talking about it. They think a lot of you, Tucker.”
“They were good to me when I was a kid. I worked for them several summers. Even then the resort was starting to decline, but there’d been enough people that they could hire me to do odd jobs.”
“You did a mini-Olympics.”
I laughed. “I did. I forgot about that.”
“And you used to help run sports camps when you were home from college.”
“I did.” I began to realize her conundrum. She thought I was a self-centered asshole, but she’d learned that wasn’t true. At least not totally. “Turns out, I’m not as shallow as you thought, huh?”
Her cheeks flushed some. “Yes.”
“You didn’t know me when you made your assessment,” I said.
Her head see-sawed. “I know that I saw and heard about your exploits. I know your type. Or, the type I thought you were.”
There was a story in there, I was sure. But I didn’t want to ask and ruin the lightness of the moment.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” I said. “Who’s on your island?”
10
Underestimated
Emma
I felt like I was blushing as I looked down in my juice. Clearly, he’d be on my island.
“As I said, I never knew of that game so I don’t have a person. What about you?” The minute I asked, I wished I hadn’t. I didn’t want to hear another woman’s name, even if it was a fantasy celebrity. Tucker was a famous football player in Los Angeles. Chances were, he could have his fantasy island woman.
“Mary Minor,” he said.
I looked at him and laughed.
“She’s a good cook,” he said by way of explanation. “You said you could cook too.”
I nodded. “I can. Although I don’t know how I compare to her.”
“You make good smoothies.”
“That’s not cooking, but thank you.” I shifted uncomfortably, wanting to ask if he’d like me to stay and make him dinner but worried I was being too forward. “Do you cook?”
He shrugged. “The basics. I’m no gourmet. I can use a microwave, which I might have to since I’m supposed to avoid using my right arm for a few days. I can’t chop.”
“I could make you something.” I hoped I didn’t sound too eager.
“Well, since you knocked me down today, it’s the least you could do.”
I rolled my eyes.
He made a hurt face and looked at his right shoulder.
“Alright, alright. Guilt tripping is no fair.” I stood to go see what he had in his kitchen.
He rose and followed me in. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? When I ran into you.”
“The impact stung a bit, but you broke my fall.” I could still feel the heat of him, his hard chest as I lay that nanosecond on his body.
“You thought I was trying to cop a feel.”
Guilt rose again that I’d let my poor opinion of him cloud my assessment of the incident. “I’m sorry about that. I know you don’t want to do that.”
“But I do,” he said. “However, I won’t unless you want me to.”
Yes, please, my libido said. I busied myself in the fridge, partly to cool down and partly because I didn’t want him to see my skin flush.
“I know that flirting is probably how you interact with women, but you don’t have to do that with me.” I pulled out some chicken.
When he didn’t respond, I turned to look at him. He was leaning against the counter studying me.
“I’m not a complicated guy,” he finally said. “I’m being completely normal and honest with you. No guile. No hidden agenda. I’m not t
rying to get into your pants, which is not to say I don’t want to, because I do, but I’m not playing games or working an angle.”
I swallowed as heat flared in my core again.
“What you see is what you get with me, Emma.” He finished his orange juice and set the glass in the sink.
“Why did you kiss me?”
When his brows rose, I realized I asked the question out loud.
“Because I wanted to kiss you. I’d apologize except you kissed me back. Why did you do that?”
I shrugged and turned away, too unsettled to speak the truth. Not to him, but to admit it out loud to myself that I was attracted to him, and not just physically, but as it turned out, there was something about him, as a person, that I was drawn to.
The room was quiet for a moment and then he said, “My shoulder is starting to throb. I’m going to take another pill.”
“Yes, of course.”
He left the kitchen and I inwardly kicked myself for being such a dummy. I probably hurt his feelings by not admitting that I kissed him back because I liked being kissed by him. I pushed that away and went through his cupboards and pulled out spices and soy sauce to make stir fry chicken and vegetables.
When he came back in the kitchen he asked, “Are you finding what you need?”
“I am. Thank you.”
“Do you mind if I rest on the couch for a minute? It’s rude I know, but these pills make me sleepy.”
“Do, please do. That’s why I’m here.”
“Thanks.” He turned away to go back to his living room.
“Tucker.”
He stopped and looked at me over his shoulder.
“I kissed you because I liked it.”
His smile was gorgeous. Then he headed to the living room.
Letting out a breath, I set to work making the meal. Twenty minutes later, I had rice and stir-fry ready. I looked for wine, but then I remembered he was on medication and he had a no-drinking rule.
I went to the living room and found him lying on his back on the couch, his right arm crossed over his belly. His eyes were closed. I noted for the first time just how long his dark lashes were. His face was relaxed, peaceful. He wore a button shirt, probably because a pullover t-shirt would be too difficult to take on and off with a hurt shoulder. The top buttons were undone, showing just a hint of his hard, sculpted chest.
I found my purse and pulled out a small sketch pad, wanting to capture him like this. When I finished, I put my pad away and then walked over to him.
“Tucker?”
He stirred, keeping his eyes closed, but his lips twitched up. “I’m having a dream about you.”
“Not a nightmare?”
“No. Not to me anyway. You might think so.” He opened his eyes. “I won’t offend your sensibilities with the details.”
“I’m not a prude.”
His brow arched up.
“Dinner is ready,” I said, not sure if I wanted to hear his dream. Well, I did, but I wasn’t sure yet if I’d let his dream seduce me into something real. I wanted to. My feelings about him had certainly changed, but I couldn’t always trust myself when it came to him.
He inhaled. “Smells delicious.” He sat up and scraped his left hand over his face. “Am I presentable?” He was more than presentable.
“You’ll do.”
He laughed and stood, walking to the dining table in the eat-in kitchen. He waited for me to sit, and then sat himself.
He took a bite and groaned. “You can cook.”
“You sound surprised,” I said, stirring my rice and stir-fry together.
“I’m happy.” He took a sip of the water I put out for him. “So, tell me how you ended up out here in Eden Lake.”
I condensed my life story into, “My grandmother bought one of the cabins the Minor’s sold. When she died, she left it to me, and I decided it was time to follow my dream. So here I am.”
“Is the dream not quite paying? Is that why you work at Paradise Java?”
“Sort of. I sell some work, and I have an online store where I sell prints and other items with my paintings on them. But art supplies aren’t cheap.”
“I’ll replace your canvas and your easel if needed.”
I waved a hand. “I think we agreed we both were to blame for that.”
He nodded. “So, the dream is to be a famous artist like Georgia O’Keefe?”
I was impressed he knew of her, but didn’t say so in case it offended him. Clearly, I’d underestimated his smarts.
“Sort of. I’d like to open a studio and gallery where other artists could create and sell their works. I was also thinking of wanting to do an artist’s retreat. Pine Rest would be a good place for that.”
“It would. I know Mason and Allie are looking at doing a wellness retreat, though I’m not sure they considered that place. It would be nice for the Minor’s, for sure.”
“I wonder how long they plan to hold out. The resort is too much for them,” I said.
“Yes, but they’re not going to sell to one of the big corporate resorts. People have suggested it, but they insist it should be family owned. I suspect when they go, one of their kids will sell.”
I sighed. “Then it will probably become glitzy.”
He nodded. “Yeah, it will likely be replaced with something glitzy. It will be a shame. Pine Rest has a charm the others don’t.”
I looked at him, again reminded that I didn’t give him enough credit for noticing beauty, grace, and charm. I noted that his plate was nearly empty.
“There’s more, if you like.”
He gave me a sheepish grin. “I do eat a lot.”
I stood and picked up his plate. “I imagine you burn a lot of calories. How far were you planning to run before we collided?”
“Ten miles.”
I scooped the rice on the plate and covered it with the stir fry. “Will your training have to change a lot now, until your shoulder is better?” I brought the plate back to him.
“A little. I can still work on lower body strength and endurance as long as it doesn’t involve my shoulder.”
I sat. “I’m really sorry. When I saw you earlier and how you looked like you’d lost everything, my heart broke. I can’t imagine not ever doing art again.”
He shrugged. “I had a bad moment for sure. I’m sorry I took it out on you.”
I waved my hand. “I think you were fine, considering. I wonder though, how long can you play? I mean, at some point, you’ll be too old, right? Then what do you do? Do you have a dream for later?”
“I hope I have ten years left or so in the pros. I invest and, hopefully, I’ll get some good endorsements. Financially, I should be okay. After that, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll start a sports camp or something. What would you do if you couldn’t do art?”
I shivered at the thought. “I don’t know. I mean, I might not be able to make a living, and I can deal with that. But I don’t know how I’d live without creating.”
“So, do you just paint? Landscapes?”
“Mostly. Sometimes I do other things. I’d like to paint you.”
He looked at me surprised. “Me?”
I felt a little embarrassed by the admission. “Yes. When you were in my robe with all that beefcake showing? I wanted to sketch you.”
He laughed. “I’m sure that was a sight. You’re much smaller than me. I was worried the towel wouldn’t make it around my hips. Imagine if that had happened.”
Heat flashed over my skin at the idea of seeing all of him. Feeling daring, I said, “You could model for me.”
His eyes flashed with a similar heat. “Like…naked?”
Embarrassed again, I looked down into my meal. “Yes, but I imagine painting you from behind. Your back—”
“My ass?”
I glanced up. “I see you like a Greek warrior or the David.”
“No kidding.” His cheeks turned pink and I was surprised to have made a man like him blush. “But not my dick?”
/>
I nearly choked on my food. “No. To be honest, they’re not very…attractive.” I worried how he might take that.
He shrugged. “Not as pretty as tits, for sure. I agree, the female form is more aesthetically pleasing.”
I nodded.
“So, if I strip down for you, will you strip down for me?”
I guess I walked into that one. “Are you going to paint me?”
“I can try.” He grinned.
I laughed. The dinner turned out to be quite enjoyable. There was definitely more to Tucker than I’d given him credit for. He was funny, smart, and yes, a huge flirt. When we finished, I did the dishes as he regaled me with stories about people in Eden Lake. I was surprised to learn that both Mason and Willa had been nerds and homely growing up, considering how attractive they were now. I was warmed to hear that when Mason decided to join the military, Tucker had stepped up to help him prepare for boot camp.
When I finished, I decided I was on the verge of overstaying my welcome. “I enjoyed that, Tucker. Thank you for letting me make up to you for nearly ruining your career.”
“Are you leaving?” he asked. He was leaning against the counter next to me as I hung the dish towel on the little hook over the sink.
“You need to rest,” I said, turning to him.
His eyes stared at me. His gaze drifting down to my lips and then up again. “What if I wanted to kiss you again?”
“What if you did?” I hoped my voice sounded calm. Inside, my heart sped up to a gallop.
“Would you want me to?”
Like always with Tucker, there was a tug-of-war emotionally. I’d been so afraid of this moment - that it would come and also afraid that it wouldn’t come. How could I want and not want something at the same time?
He looked down and laughed lightly. “I’ll take that as a no.”
I reached out, gripping the front of his shirt and pulled him to me. “You give up too easily.”
“Sorry—”
I cut him off by plastering my lips to his. Like the first time, rockets went off as the taste of him filled my senses. His tongue didn’t waste time in finding my mouth. I opened, letting him in, and moaning as his tongue danced with mine. He placed his left hand on my hip, and moved me between him and the counter, his hips pressing against me. His erection was hard against my belly, and I thought I might have to reconsider my opinion of penises, because I couldn’t imagine his being anything but spectacular.