Chapter 7
7
H anna’s buzz made her feel giggly and happy and just the right amount of flirty.
She missed this—laughing. Inside jokes. Being stupid. And loud. And a little tipsy.
She had acquaintances from high school and college—people she loosely kept in touch with, mostly via social media. But in terms of folks she spoke to regularly?
It was only Bella and Madi.
And since she hadn’t made any friends in Orange Beach yet, this was the most fun she’d had in… way too fucking long.
It’d been even longer since she’d been on a decent date.
How depressing was it that something so average felt so revolutionary for her?
A pang of sadness coursed through her. She had all but packed up her apartment and given notice at her job. She had her eye on a place in her hometown, equidistant from her sister’s house and her parents’.
“So what about you?” Tucker asked, interrupting Hanna’s thoughts.
“What about me?” She asked, immediately self-conscious.
“Well, surely there’s more to you than burping, spilling coffee on cranky old men, and getting penises drawn on your face,” he said with a smirk.
“Tragically, that’s all remarkably on brand for me,” she responded. “I was home-schooled. Awkward things happen to me more often than not.”
“Based on my limited experience, that certainly seems to be the case.”
“You’ve barely even scratched the surface.”
Instant regret washed through her when he looked at her with intrigue.
“I’m from a small town in North Alabama,” she said, changing the subject. “It’s basically in Tennessee. I grew up on a modest farm and was homeschooled with my sister, Bella. Went to Auburn, became a kindergarten teacher, and here I am.”
Tucker smiled. “There’s more to you than that.”
“I think you’ve gotten enough of my awkward stories to last you a lifetime.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She felt her cheeks grow hot. Silence hung between them, and Hanna knew if he didn’t say anything soon, she’d start rambling again.
Say something. Please. For the love of God, so I don’t spill all my secrets.
The desire to fill the space bubbled up inside her.
“I mean, I guess there is more. I moved out here because I wanted to be adventurous, try something new. Most people stay in my small town forever. My sister, Bella, and her wife help my parents run the farm in their spare time, but sometimes I wonder why they stayed there. Still, it’s pretty standard for where I’m from. But I wanted to be different, so I came here. And it’s been way harder than I thought. I have, like, no friends here.” Her hand almost knocked over her drink, but she caught herself just in time. “Whoops. I’m a klutz, but you know that. Anyway, I mean, I don’t really have that many friends to begin with,” she shrugged. “Just my sister and her wife, Madi. We were best friends before she confessed her undying love for Bella. And now I’m trying to decide if I should just call it quits and move home or try to make it work out here a little longer. And I met you, so?—”
Hanna cut herself off before she said anything else damning.
“Sorry, I ramble when I get nervous.” So much for cutting herself off. Shut up. “And I just talk a lot in general. Madi calls me a certified yapper. Probably why I don’t have that many friends. Can’t seem to shut up.”
Tucker smirked, leaning back in his chair and linking his hands behind his head.
“If you don’t interrupt me, I’ll never stop yapping,” Hanna said, and Tucker’s smile grew though he stayed quiet. “Please put me out of my misery.”
“But I enjoy your yapping.”
“That’d make you the first.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing we’re on a date.”
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. He… liked her yapping enough that he was still happy they were on a date?
Hanna felt her jaw drop. “But…”
Tucker’s eyes drifted over her shoulder as a waitress dropped a plate of oysters in front of them.
“Thanks, Sheila,” Tucker said. “You were saying, Hanna?”
Her face was flaming. “Oysters? Aren’t they, like, an aphrodisiac?”
He lifted a single brow, his eyes heating. “Do you want them to be?”
Could she burst into flames on the spot? Her whole body was hot from embarrassment and—dare she say—a smidge of horniness.
“Do you serve these to all the girls?”
“You’re the only girl I’ve brought on a date here.”
She sputtered. “But?—”
“Why do you seem to have such a problem accepting that I like you?”
“Because… nobody else has?”
“They’re idiots. But it worked out well for me. Do you like oysters?”
“Yes, of course, but?—”
“Then let’s eat.”
He placed a few saltine crackers in front of her and squeezed a lemon over the oysters before grabbing one and downing it in one quick swallow. Hanna found herself transfixed by the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the delicate veins in his neck popping as he licked his lips.
He smirked. “You’re staring.”
“Because you’re—” she cut herself off, gesturing toward his face wildly.
He quirked a brow again. So annoying that he could do that.
“I’m?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know.”
“I really don’t.” He crossed his arms.
Instead of dignifying that with a response, she grabbed a saltine, used a small fork to place the oyster on it, and topped it with cocktail sauce.
“Mmm,” she said as she chewed. “God, I love oysters.”
Tucker didn’t push her to finish her thought from earlier as they finished off the oysters, easy conversation flowing between them as Hanna’s nerves began to settle.
Immediately after the oysters were cleared from their table, Sheila placed a decadent strawberry shortcake in front of them.
“Okay, now you’re definitely not going to like me,” Hanna said as she eyeballed the dessert.
He stiffened, eyes going wide. “Don’t tell me you don’t like shortcake.”
“Quite the opposite.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m not very good at sharing desserts.” She shifted in her chair, eyes looking anywhere but him.
It was the least ladylike thing about her—that she loved eating, that she didn’t eat like a bird. And there were a lot of ladylike things about her, penis face paintings notwithstanding.
Tucker guffawed, and she jerked her gaze back to him in surprise. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not very good at sharing food, period. You ate most of everything I brought out.”
“My family never lets me live it down,” Hanna said, blushing.
Surely, this was it. The other shoe was about to drop.
“Good thing that’s the best compliment you can give a chef.” His gaze held hers, and she looked away again as a flush of warmth washed through her. “You can have the whole shortcake, Hanna. I made it special for you, anyway.”
Her heart thundered.
Special … for her? Because of the nickname he called her?
It was sweet. Too sweet.
She still didn’t want to share dessert.
She eyed him suspiciously.
“Do you want to take my spoon for safekeeping?” He said with a chuckle, putting his spoon next to hers.
“Yes,” she said before she could stop herself. “I mean, no.”
He laughed. “Just eat, Hanna.”
Tentatively, she took a bite—and as the sweet creaminess of the shortcake crumbled over her tongue, all pretenses of reluctance dissipated with a moan she couldn’t hold back. “Holy shit . Why is everything you make so good?”
“Culinary school.”
She gave him a look, and he smiled. “How’d you get into cooking?”
“Everyone in my family cooked. I just grew up around amazing food. And we went to New Orleans a lot, since it’s only a few hours away. So I picked it up young and started cooking for my family all the time growing up. Got a job as a line cook at a local seafood place and it skyrocketed from there.”
Hanna gave him a closed-mouth grin as she swallowed the shortcake. “I’m a terrible cook.”
Tucker’s lips tipped up in amusement. “How terrible?”
“I once started a fire trying to boil water.” She took another bite.
His smile grew, a small laugh escaping. “How’d you manage that?”
“I wanted tea and forgot I put a pot on to boil,” she said between bites. “I have an electric kettle now. And I store clothes in my oven like Carrie Bradshaw.”
“Carrie who?”
“You know, like from Sex and the City. ”
“Never heard of it.”
She dropped her fork, barely noticing the loud clank on the table. “You’ve never heard of Sex and the City ? What rock are you living under?”
“You don’t use your oven! That’s worse! What do you do, order takeout for every meal?”
“That and frozen meals, yes.”
Tucker ran a hand down his face as Hanna took her final bite of the shortcake. “You have no idea how upsetting this is to me.”
“Probably just as upsetting as you not knowing about Sex and the City. ” Hanna mumbled.
Tucker chuckled, waving Sheila over. “Can we get some crab cakes to go, please?”
As Sheila walked away, he turned his attention back to Hanna. She found herself squirming under his gaze.
“I like you. A lot.” He curled his lips. Well, shit. She’d never been with someone so straightforward before. “So how about we strike a deal?”
Mustering up a lot more confidence than she had, Hanna responded smugly, “I’m listening.”
“I’ll overlook your abysmal cooking skills if you overlook my indifference to pop culture, and tomorrow night we go on another date.”
Sheila placed a styrofoam box on their table, and Tucker stood up, reaching for Hanna’s hand. She stood and clasped his hand in hers, following him as he led her out of the restaurant.
“The Honda’s mine,” she said, tugging her keys out of her purse as he handed her the crab cakes he’d ordered to go. “Wait, you got this for me?”
“Yes.”
“But you barely ate anything tonight. I hogged it all.”
“Correct.”
“But—”
“Hanna, let me send you home with more of my food and fall asleep satisfied that I’m feeding my girl tonight.”
“Your…girl?” Hanna gulped.
Had he meant to say that?
Tucker’s cheeks turned pink. “Yes.”
God, what did she have to lose from this? A bit of heartache if she moved? She was getting free food out of the deal. Really fucking delicious free food, for fuck’s sake. Could she let Tucker call her his girl and give her delicious food and see where this thing took her?
“How about a counteroffer?” she said, channeling self-assurance she didn’t feel. “How about instead of overlooking each other’s flaws, we correct them on our next date.”
“Meaning?”
“ Meaning ,” she said, realizing her crush on the stupid hot chef was going nowhere but to her apartment, “tomorrow, you come to my place and teach me to cook. Something easy, please. And we’ll watch Sex and The City. ”
Tucker’s lips twitched. “Already inviting me to your place on the second date?”
“Yes.”
He bit his lip and leaned forward as she backed into the car. His arms stretched out so each hand was caging her face, and she could smell him—a combination of spices and seafoam and sweat.
His lips brushed up against hers as he asked, “You trying to seduce me, shortcake?”
“Maybe,” she whispered.
His lips crashed into hers, and she barely had time to breathe before losing herself in the sensation of him again. She felt her heart begin to pound as her body grew hot, and she threw an arm around his neck, tugging him closer. As his tongue pressed into her mouth, she moaned, and he pulled his body flush against hers, one of his hands grasping her chin as if he could tug her mouth closer to his.
Nothing existed except Tucker, his lips, his calloused fingers running along her chin and neck. God, she hadn’t been kissed in… too long. And it felt good.
He pulled away suddenly, leaving her feeling cold and wanting.
“Sorry, shortcake. Got carried away,” he panted, his eyes still dark with lust, hands resting on his hips.
“The only thing you should be sorry for is stopping.”
He smirked. “If I kept going, I’d have a lot of explaining to do in the kitchen when I showed up with tented pants.”
Her eyes dropped to his crotch and she bit her lip before her gaze darted back up to his. She blushed with delight, aware of the impact she had on him.
“See you tomorrow, shortcake,” he said, backing away. Following his cue, she got into her car, carefully setting the crab cakes that miraculously didn’t get squashed during their make-out session in the passenger seat.
“Holy fuck,” she muttered to herself as she put the car in drive and headed home.