by Edwina Fort
“News flash! I never thought you were that cool!” I continued. He turned so that he could have a better view of me taking off my tights. Lifting his own beer bottle, he drank deeply as his heated gaze followed their journey down my legs.
My body responded to his look in a way that took my breath for a moment. Too late I wished that I hadn’t let him bait me into doing this in front of him. Straightening my skirt, I folded my tights and tucked them in my shoe.
“There…not square at all!” I told him as I sat on the step just above him and eased my feet into the water. But it was so cold I screeched and pulled them back out.
“It’s cold!”
“Here, let me help you.”
His big warm hand wrapped around my right foot and he pulled it over his leg into his lap before lowering it into the water. I screeched again and started to jerk it back out, however, he started doing something that caused me to pause.
Oh my God! He was rubbing my feet!
“What are you doing?!” My voice was laced with panic.
“Rubbing your feet.”
“Why?”
“Why not? Just chill and let me warm them for you. Or are you too square to chill?”
I frowned at him. “I know how to chill.”
“Well then, chill…”
“Fine…”
I sat back and forced myself to appear relaxed, but then something happened. After about a minute of him massaging my foot, I really began to relax. And after two minutes, I was in heaven. My feet had been sore because I’d been on them all day, and now…and now…
Oh God! It felt so good.
He was really good at this. When he pulled my other leg into his lap and began to massage it, I closed my eyes and moaned.
“Mmmmm, that feels so good, Mean Tuck.”
His hands stopped and my eyes flew open. “Why did you sto—” I began, but my words came to the halt when I saw the look on his face. I’d done something wrong.
“What’s the matter?”
“Are you f*cking kidding me?” he growled.
I tried to pull my legs out of his lap, but he wouldn’t let me. “What did I do?” I asked instead.
“You can’t moan like that and say that sh*t and then just expect me to remain on good behavior.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “What are you talking about?”
"Really, Free, you think it's safe to play games with me?"
“Okay!” I laughed. “I’m sorry…I won’t do it again.”
He grinned. “You won’t do what again?”
“I won’t moan and say how good what you’re doing feels.”
“Hmmmm….we’ll see.” And then he went back to rubbing my feet.
I stared at the side of his head. “What does that mean?”
“Shhh…enjoy the massage.”
He thinks he’s so slick. But my feet hurt too much not to sit back and do what he said. The way I figured, rubbing my feet was the least he could do to pay me for all the hell he’d put me through.
“When’s the last time your man rubbed your feet?” he asked as he drizzled another handful of water over my right foot before wrapping his strong hand around my sole and massaging it.
I was feeling so good at this moment that I didn’t want to ruin it talking about Dillion, so I didn’t answer him.
“Answer me, baby,” he urged me gently. I exhaled, leave it to Tucker to push the envelope anyway.
“If I had a man, do you think I would be here letting you rub my feet?” I muttered, feeling more relaxed than I’ve felt in a long time.
“What’s up with Dillion old p*ssy ass?”
I chuckled. “Nothing at all…He’s marrying my sister in a few months.”
“That dude has always been a b*tch. I hated his ass in school.”
It was true. Mean Tuck picked on me, but sometimes it felt that he was trying to kill Dillion. Senior year, I’d mercifully been spared of having gym with Naphtali, but that year, Dillion had not been so lucky. Tucker fractured his arm the first week during a game of touch football. He told the gym teacher he forgot they were just playing touch football and thought he was in football practice.
All the students that saw Mean Tuck tackle Dillion said that he’d hit him so hard, they thought Dillion had died. He laid on the ground unconscious for a full minute before the gym teacher could revive him. And then there was the time Dillion and I were walking down the hall and Tucker had come out of nowhere to catch a football that Jackson threw to him. His back slammed into Dillion, sending him flying across the hallway to crash face-first into the lockers. He’d broken his nose in the fall and had to wear a nose brace for nearly a month.
“You still love him?” Tucker asked as he continued to work his magic on my feet.
I thought about his question. Did I still love Dillion? I know that I should. Up till a few weeks ago, I thought we had a pretty good relationship. It has crossed my mind that I should be more broken up about the fact that he was marrying my sister, but I wasn’t. And I’m afraid the reason is because I never really loved him.
“No…I don’t think that I do,” I told him, shaking my head.
“Good, I would hate to have to f*ck him up.”
Before I could address him, my fishing rod jerked. My eyes flew open as I reached for it to prevent it from being snatched into the water.
“Oh, my God! I caught something! What do I do?!” I cried as the rod began to jerk like crazy.
“Reel it in, bae!” Tucker said as he reached over and helped me reel in my line.
I was so excited I could barely sit still. When we finally got it reeled in, I was amazed by the size of it.
Tucker whistled. “This bad boy has to be about five pounds…Good job, Freebie! I’m proud of you, girl.”
With a huge grin on my face, I clapped my hands together. I was proud of me too. “What kind of fish is it?”
"Smallmouth bass," he said as he got busy taking the hook out of the fish's mouth.
“What are we going to do with it?” I was now on my knees with my hands resting on his shoulder, subconsciously hiding behind him from my huge fish that was wiggling angrily in his hands.
“We’re going to cook it.”
My mouth opened in shock. “Cook it?!”
“Yeah…”
“I don’t know how to cook a real fish.”
He looked back at me with a grin on his face. “What kind of fish do you eat if not real fish?”
I punched his shoulder. “You know what I mean. I don’t know how to clean it and cut it…”
He jerked his head toward the deck. “Come on, I’ll show you how.”
Disappearing in the cabin, he reappeared a second later with newspaper in his hand that he laid out on the deck before pulling a pocketknife out of his jeans. Squatting down, he began to scrape the scales off the fish. Being careful to keep my skirt decent, I sat down on the deck floor next to him.
“How did you learn how to do that?” I asked, completely fascinated by what he was doing.
“After my dad gifted me with this boat, I practically lived on it. This stretch of beach has always been my favorite place. One night I got hungry and decided to go fishing. After I caught the fish, I realized I had no f*cking idea what to do with it. So, I watched a YouTube video.”
A YouTube video!
I blinked at him before erupting in laughter. I had not expected him to say that.
“Oh my God, Tuck. I thought you were getting ready to say something deep like an old man sitting on a log floating in the middle of the lake showed me how.”
He chuckled, shaking his head as he began to gut the fish. “Nope…Good old-fashioned YouTube.”
He was so efficient with what he was doing that I just sat in silence watching his strong hands flex as he scaled and gutted all three of the fish. He reminded me of one of the surgeons that worked at the hospital where I’d done my clinicals. I forget his name, but whenever he performed surgery, I would watc
h his big strong hands, fascinated that they were able to move so efficiently.
“How do you touch the guts and organs without gloves?” I asked.
“Awww, you don’t need gloves. It’s just a little fish blood.” He picked up a hand full of the bloody intestines and tossed it at me.
I screamed at the top of my lungs as I tried to prevent the bloody organs from ruining my clothes, but in my panic, ended up only making it worse and getting fish guts all over my blouse and skirt. There was even some juice on my face and glasses.
I sat there staring at him with my mouth opened in shock. He wore a look of amused horror on his face.
“Damn, Free! I’m so sorry…You were supposed to catch it, not play volleyball with it and get it all over your clothes.”
“What is wrong with you?! Why are you such a jerk?!” I screeched, close to tears.
He shook his head fighting to hold on to his laughter. “I don’t know why I did that. There is something wrong with me, I think you’re right. You’ve been right all these years.”
All that he said while laughing, and of course it took the sincerity away from his apology. I looked down just as a heart dropped down my blouse to land in my lap. Right on the verge of tears, my gaze came back to his.
“Oh no, baby, don’t cry,” he said shooting to his feet, helping me up. “Here, you can take a shower while I cook the fish for us. I’m so sorry, Freebie. I am a jerk…it’s true.”
He led me into the cabin. “I’m going to make the best fish you’ve ever tasted.”
That made me chuckle. “Can you cook?”
“Oh yeah, on our days off, all the fellas on my team come over to my place to watch the game and eat some of my famous chili.” He stopped at his dresser to take out clothes for me.
"Will you look at that," I told him, still very angry he’d just ruined my nice clothes. “All this time I thought your only talent was destroying things and beating people up.”
Yeah, that was a low blow and outright mean, but I didn’t care. He always seemed to bring the best out of me.
“Damn, Freebie…that hurt my feelings,” he said as he began to crowd my space. For every step he took forward, I took one back until the door prevented me from going any farther. I sucked in my breath as he came to a stop within inches of me. Our chests were nearly touching. As if they had a will of their own, my eyes lowered to his lips. Memories of all the times he’d grabbed me and ravished my mouth in high school came to mind and all the anger I’d just felt melted away to be replaced by something else.
Those were dangerous thoughts…them paired with his delicious smell and muscled strength standing so close were affecting my body in a way that had those alarm bells ringing. I wonder if he could feel my heart racing.
His gaze took its time roaming over my face, studying it like he used to do when we were in school. This was the same way he looked at me that day in the cafeteria when my skirt flew up. No man has ever looked at me this way.
No…not one.
When I was a girl, I didn’t understand this look. But now that I’m a woman, I knew—no, better yet, my body knew what this look meant. His hungry gaze settled on my lips and I nervously licked them, wondering if he was going to kiss me. And then I wondered if I would stop him.
I gasped when he reached up and used his big finger to gently wipe fish guts off my cheek. “Yes, I’m really good at smashing sh*t. But if you take the time to see me, you may just find out I’m a brotha with many talents.”
His arm circled my waist, pulling me against his strong body while his other hand went to the knob on the door behind me, opening it.
“This is the bathroom, take your time. Yell if you need anything.” And then he stepped back, removing his arm from around my waist. I felt the loss instantly…and I didn't like it.
He took several steps back still holding my gaze captive, another thing he’s always been able to do since high school. In his eyes, I saw things that his lips would never say. And it was only when he turned to walk out of the cabin, breaking the eye contact that I was able to blink or even breathe for that matter.
Chapter 8
He’s Full of Surprises
Free
“Mmmmm! Tuck, this fish is so good.”
He chuckled. “See? There you go moaning again.”
“I can’t help it. This really is the best fish I’ve ever eaten.”
It was, guys. I can’t believe he can cook this well, as a matter of fact, I can’t believe how relaxed and content I felt in the presence of my nemesis. After taking a nice long shower to wash off all the fish guts the maniac threw on me, I slid into the pair of sweatpants he’d given me and the t-shirt. Of course, everything was too big, but it was comfortable.
When I walked out of the bathroom, the heavenly scent of the well-seasoned dish that greeted me took me off guard. Needing to see with my own eyes that yes, this was Mean Tucker, bully extraordinaire and an all-around asshole standing at his stove creating art. I carefully approached him.
He was sautéing what looked like bok choy with onion and red peppers…fresh garlic.
“That smells heavenly,” I told him.
“Thank you. Go ahead and grab us two more beers out the fridge, this is just about done.”
I grabbed the beers and brought them out to the table on the deck. Shortly after, he followed with the plates. Between the beers, the foot massage, the hot shower, the comfy sweats, and the good food, I was feeling like I was actually winding down from a hectic week.
After we finished eating, neither of us was in a rush to move, we just continued to sip our beers, enjoying the lake. I can see why this was his favorite place when he was younger. I remembered when he first brought me here, I was surprised because I didn’t know this little hidden gem existed.
Wow, what does it mean that he brought you to his getaway pla—
You know what…What does it matter? I quickly shut that voice off. Subject change please…
“Okay, now I’m curious. What other hidden talents do you have?” I asked him instead. The man was continuing to surprise me. That fish he’d just made could have been showcased at a 5-star restaurant. I truly only thought he was good at one thing…brutality. Who knew he was a well-rounded brotha?
He turned to me with a lifted eyebrow. I laughed…his mind had gone straight to the gutter. There goes the Tucker I remembered. And as to prove my point, he licked his lips as his eyes lowered to my lap.
“Not that, dirty man, I already know you’re good at that…” Too late I snapped my lips shut.
Oh
My
God!
I can’t believe I’d just said that!
Taking my glasses off, I wiped away an imaginary spot with my napkin to cover up my embarrassment. Damn beer had me speaking my mind too freely…
He grinned. “You know I’m good at what?”
“I’m not answering that,” I told him, easing my glasses back on my face. “You know what I meant. What other talents do you have that’s not X-rated?”
He turned to face me fully, the devious look still on his face. For some reason, it felt like this position brought him closer. I didn’t make eye contact with him, instead, I continued to look out at the water. I’m telling you guys, I am so glad for my dark skin because I was blushing like crazy right now.
“Which one of my talents did you enjoy best that night? ‘Cause I can assure you, I’ve improved a great deal. Was it when I kissed your lips or your neck?” As he spoke, his hungry gaze fell from my lips to my neck. “Was it when I ran my tongue across your bellybutton, enjoying the texture of your soft skin.”
He leaned closer. “Or was it when I spread your legs and buried my face in between your---”
“Tucker!” I squeaked stopping him. And of course, the fact that he’d ruffled my feathers amused him greatly.
Chuckling he relaxed back in his chair. Against my will, my eyes lowered to his muscled abs that looked amazing in that gray tank top.
“Alright, little Freebie, I won’t pick on you. Hmmm…what other talent do I have?”
“And it can’t be anything violent. We know you’re good at that too.”
He thought for a minute. “I can sing.”
It was my turn to chuckle. “No, you can't."
“Yeah, I can…”
Oh, this is exciting! I scooted my chair closer to him. “Go ahead, let me hear something.”
He gave me the side-eye. "Really? You can't just take my word for it?"
I shook my head. “Absolutely not. You know folks always lying about knowing how to sing.”
He looked down at the beer bottle in his hand, and I could see him contemplating within himself whether he should sing for me.
“Come on, Mean Tuck…sing for me.”
He lifted his beer and drained it before sitting up in his seat. “F*ck it.”
I had to bite my lip to keep from cheesing. Although I was excited to hear him sing, there was a part of me that didn’t think he could do it. Imagining him of all people carrying a tune was just not something I ever done.
He cleared his throat before turning to look at me, and then guys…he opened his mouth and surprised the hell out of me.
It’s like I missed the shot,
It’s like I dropped the ball,
Damn, I’m sorry,
Oh wow!
He can sing…
He can really sing and was belting out, Ruben Studdard’s Sorry better than freaking Ruben Studdard. This song was my jam back in the day.
It’s like I’m on stage,
And I forgot the words.
Damn, I’m sorry,
It’s like building a new house,
With no roof and no doors.
Damn, I’m sorry,
So, do you guys remember my defense strategy I told you all about when I was walking towards this boat? Yeah, well, those walls began to crumble brick by brick faster than I could catch them. He was singing to me. He’d chosen this song to tell me something he hasn’t been able to. And Dear God, I wasn’t going to make it.