Chapter 2
2
I t was Tucker’s least favorite day of the month.
The day he forced himself to do all the admin work that came with running a business—organizing schedules, restocking supplies, and paying the bills. He’d much rather be creating menus and testing new recipes, or even having check-ins with his employees. But even then, he knew he worked too much.
On the last Sunday of every month, he took care of all the not so glamorous, but necessary tasks that came with being a business owner while treating himself to breakfast at his favorite coffee shop. It was nestled just outside the touristy part of Orange Beach, just around the corner from his restaurant.
He heaved a sigh, took a sip of his black coffee, and scrolled through his to-do list. He’d gotten about half of his tasks done so far. Still far too much to go—enough that he knew he’d be here for at least a few more hours. He’d worked 13 days in a row, but this needed to get done.
Which meant it was time to order a sweet treat to reward himself—even though he’d already demolished a breakfast sandwich.
He looked over toward the display, trying to decide which pastry he’d order, when he saw a short girl with fair skin and straight, dark brown hair walk up to the counter. His eyes trailed down the tiny tattoos scattered across her arms to her midriff, appreciating the way a crop top fitted her tight little body.
It couldn’t be.
She shifted, and Tucker glimpsed her face.
He felt himself grin.
It was her—the girl from Friday night.
Burp girl, as he’d fondly called her in his head.
When she belched and ran off, he didn’t have the wherewithal to stop her. But a small part of him hoped she’d come back. He wanted the chance to ask her how someone so little could produce a burp so monumentally gigantic.
Tucker watched her with keen interest as she chatted happily with the barista, a Black woman with long braids and a shirt with a coffee pot on it that said “Pot Head.” Burp girl told her something funny that sent them both into a fit of giggles.
When Tucker had first seen her, he was floored by how stunning she was. He felt bad that her date was so terrible the other night. He could tell she was uncomfortable as soon as the asshole started complaining about the food he ordered, so he tried to keep it light. Unfortunately, her date had other plans.
And Tucker had to admit, her date’s blatant lack of self awareness was so shocking it was hilarious. He couldn’t blame her for the way she laughed at him.
But he also couldn’t stop thinking about her—how gorgeous she was when she smiled, how her laugh lit up the restaurant, and how adorable she was when she couldn’t get control of her giggles.
She grabbed her iced drink from the barista, then turned around, and ran straight into the person in line behind her.
Who just so happened to be a grumpy old man.
A grumpy old man Tucker knew better than he wished.
His name was Tom. And Tom came to Tucker’s restaurant every Sunday night just to eat the same meal and tip his staff a measly eight percent before returning to the hole he emerged from.
“JESUS CHRIST!” Tom yelled at the same time Tucker stood up and headed toward the commotion. “Young lady, what do you think you’re doing?”
For a tiny woman, she really knew how to instigate chaos.
“Oh my god,” her cheeks reddened, and her eyes widened in mortification. “I’m so, so sorry. I can just?—”
She’d grabbed a few napkins and tried to wipe the man’s shirt off.
“You’ve ruined my shirt and spilled coffee all over me,” Tom said, and Tucker felt his jaw clench. “There’s no fixing this. You’re a menace to society.“
Her mouth twisted, and her eyes became glassy. “Sir, I’m so sorry. I’m happy to buy you a coffee as an apology for?—”
Tom released a humorless, taunting laugh. “An apology? You little?—”
“Tom,” Tucker stepped in, clasping his shoulder. “This woman didn’t mean to run into you. Looked to me like you were standing a little too close.”
Tom’s face reddened, and Tucker glanced at the woman responsible for this mess. Her eyes widened in recognition, and her jaw opened and shut in disbelief.
“I wasn’t standing too close,” Tom said, and Tucker returned his attention to him. “This woman should watch where she’s going.”
“Maybe,” Tucker said. “But you yelling at her isn’t going to change anything.”
“Hmph.”
“How about this? You let this go, and dinner at Fish Food is on me for the next month.”
Tom’s eyebrows raised.
“What do you say?” Tucker asked.
“Wait,” the woman cut in. “You don’t have to—I can buy you a drink, like I said. You don’t—I mean, I appreciate that?—”
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Tom stuck out his hand, and before the woman could object any further, Tucker shook it.
The woman gaped at both of them, then bit her lip.
“Well, I guess I’d better go home and change. I’ll see you tonight.”
Tom gave the woman a scowl before turning on his heel and leaving. She closed her eyes and sighed, and Tucker studied her.
She was tiny. Maybe five feet tall with shoes on, and about as thin as his pinky finger. She had short brown hair pulled into messy dutch braids, and delicate, fine line tattoos adorned her arms. And even though she kept diverting her gaze from his in embarrassment, he was mesmerized by her green eyes.
In the scuffle, nobody seemed to notice that she was also drenched in coffee. Tom was too caught up in himself, and Tucker had meant it when he said Tom had been standing too close. This woman didn’t seem like the type of person to blindly walk into someone—though, he didn’t know her that well. Yet.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.
“I didn’t mind, shortcake,” he grinned as her eyes widened even more. “Besides, I owed you one for the entertainment the other night.”
“So you remember that.”
“Hard to forget a woman of your size burping so loud that everyone in my restaurant went completely silent.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Okay. Well. I had my reasons. And if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll just go crawl under a rock and bask in my shame.”
He laughed. “But if you do that, I can’t buy you a new drink.”
She looked at him like he was crazy, and he laughed again.
“You don’t want to buy me a drink.” Her tone was incredulous.
“Yes, I do,” he responded.
“I don’t need your charity.”
“It’s not charity.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Then why?”
“Because I think you’re cute.”
She looked even more shocked. “But… I burped.”
“I liked it.” Tucker felt a smile stretch across his face at the memory that had made him laugh several times a day since it occurred.
“I spilled coffee all over an old man.”
“He really was standing too close.” And he deserved it , he added silently.
“Do you have a savior complex or something?” Then in a whisper, she added, “Does coming to my rescue get you off?”
Tucker tipped his head back and laughed even harder. He didn’t know if she was trying to be funny, but he loved it.
“Valid question. Why don’t I buy you a new drink and you can find out?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re a suspiciously nice person. But okay. Buy me a new drink.”
Tucker smirked, and she rolled her eyes as she looked over at the barista she’d giggled with earlier, who was watching their interaction with rapt attention.
“Shit. I’m sorry for making a mess,” she said to the barista, wringing her hands together.
“No problem. I’ll mop it up after I take your orders. Same thing?”
She nodded, and Tucker ordered a cinnamon roll.
A few moments of silence passed as they waited for their orders. “So. What’s your name?”
She eyed him. “What’s yours?”
“Tucker.”
“Hmm. Nice name.”
“What’s yours?”
“Not sure I’m ready to disclose that yet.”
Damn, this girl was a mystery.
A hilarious, bumbling, loud, chaotic mystery.
“And why is that?”
“Reasons.”
“Ah, yes. Reasons. So will you disclose the reasons for your burp? It seems like that was premeditated, based on what you said earlier.”
She grinned. “Very astute. It was.” She sighed. “Obviously, my date was not a winner.”
“I’ll say,” Tucker said with a laugh, then cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was a first date. We matched on a stupid dating app I was coerced into downloading. Seemed nice enough when we messaged. Then we got to the date and oh my god, he literally wouldn’t shut up.” She began rubbing her temples. “I mean, he was so self-absorbed and long-winded and would not stop talking about crypto of all things. Crypto .”
Tucker stifled a laugh.
“It was miserable. Torture, even.” The words started rolling out of her so quickly they almost ran together. “If I were a spy and that was the method they used to torture secrets out of me, I’d give them all up right away. I mean, the guy never took a breath. He was going on and on about how he wanted to show me his investment portfolio. I mean, do I look like someone who wants to see an investment portfolio? Ew, gross.”
She shook her shoulders as if trying to get rid of a disgusting feeling.
“Ew, indeed,” Tucker said, nodding solemnly.
“He didn’t ask me a single question about myself. I mean, to be honest, it felt like a miracle when he shut up long enough for me to order a drink. So…”
She took a breath.
Tucker grinned. He was so ready for the rest of this story. “So?”
“I decided to test the limits of how far that could go. How much could I get away with doing before he stopped talking?” She looked at him deviously.
Tucker chuckled. “So what did you do?”
“I started small. Blew bubbles into my drink. Nada.”
He grinned at her. He really liked this girl. She was funny. Bold. Weird—super fucking weird. And pretty. “And then?”
“Took a selfie with a duck face.” She mimicked the action.
He cackled. “You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“And nothing?”
“Tragically, no.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed this much. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone this long without stressing about the restaurant. “And then?”
“Well, I’ve always been able to burp on command, but I felt like it was time to go big or go home, ya know?” She was gesturing wildly, hands flying around as she spoke with conviction. “So I chugged some of my drink to make sure it was a big one. And then you came up, and I tried to hold it in, but…”
“But then you had a giggle fit because he was being an idiot and it just slipped out?”
She smiled at him, and damn it if he didn’t love it. “Exactly.”
His gaze fell to her mouth—supple, pink lips that men dreamed about—until he noticed a pretty flush creeping up her cheeks. They held eye contact for a few sustained moments before the barista returned with their orders.
“Well,” she said awkwardly. “Thanks. For the drink. And helping me with all of that.”
“No problem.” He didn’t want to stop talking to her, but could feel her pulling away. “Want to sit down with me for a bit?”
She bit her lip. “I should really be going.”
“Can I at least get your number?” He sounded desperate, but he didn’t care. He wanted to keep getting to know this girl. Maybe hear more burping stories. Maybe try to put her mouth to other uses.
Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. “Um…”
“C’mon, what’s the harm?”
“I’ve now embarrassed myself in front of you twice. I don’t think I want to do it a third time.”
He wasn’t going to push. Tucker had been around the creepy guys who didn’t know how to take no for an answer. He wouldn’t do that. But fuck if he didn’t want to get on his knees and beg this girl for her number—beg her to keep reminding him there was life to live outside of his job.
“Well.” He exhaled. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”
Her cheeks grew pink again, and she nodded. “I’m sorry for being a mess, but thanks again. For being so nice. For the drink.”
“Don’t worry about it, shortcake.”
She sucked her lips in, as if holding back a smile, then nodded. “Well.”
She was so adorably awkward.
He liked it. A lot.
“Well,” he said again.
“See you around.”
“I hope so.”
And he meant it.