Chapter 17
Seventeen
Sebastian
My head is a fucking mess.
Do I like men now? I’m not sure how to answer that other than I like Tucker, and that’s the only thing I know for sure.
I slept like a baby after our call, but I woke up with my head spinning over what it could all mean, and it hasn’t stopped since.
What we did was so unexpected, and I was the one who pushed for it to happen.
I’ve been pushing him a lot, actually, and I like how he responds to me.
Except when he put the brakes on before we went into the school.
That stopped the spinning and had me focusing on one thing for certain—I want Tucker to give in to me, because I want to see what this is between us.
It’s been fast and slow at the same time.
Just being in his company has made me feel more at peace than anything has since Eliana died.
For the first time, I had a hookup that didn’t leave me feeling guilty.
I was confused about my feelings and how I’d come to them, yeah, but not guilty.
It feels like Eliana’s been guiding me toward him.
First, the puppy wrapping us up at family day, when I was thinking about how much she would have loved it.
Next, the beautiful sunset over the pond, when I felt myself being pulled to open up to Tucker, which resulted in his massive arms wrapping around me, that led to my urge to kiss him.
Now, I’ve finally escaped the guilt when I think about sex with someone other than my wife.
But he wants to deny us the chance to even attempt this.
Eli, is this what you want? No woman is good enough for me, but a man, you're okay with?
She’s noticeably silent now.
She was always reading those romance books with two guys and a girl, and gay romance.
She would probably think two dicks are better than one, and wouldn't mind me seeking comfort and companionship in a man because she would’ve loved to read that story.
I laugh out loud at my stupid thoughts. I must be losing my damn mind now to imagine my dead wife giving me signs and leading me to a man.
I pull into the parking lot of a restaurant in Buckhead and manage to find a spot.
Tucker’s big truck pulls in behind me and circles the lot before he backs into a spot that doesn’t look large enough for it.
He's so fucking capable and looks like a country sex dream when he hops down from the cab. I nearly swoon like a teenage girl at a K Pop concert. Having these thoughts about him is a testament to the new direction of my sexuality, whatever it might be, because I’ve never considered any other man sexy or a dream, yet watching Tucker is really doing it for me.
He’s in a black Combat Companions shirt that stretches beautifully across his broad chest and those Carhartt work pants that manage to be utilitarian and fashionable at the same time.
Although he’s the last person I’d imagine picking clothing for style over function.
He opens the back of the cab and lets Ivy out, pulling out a service vest and strapping it onto her.
Next, he gets the tiniest service dog in training vest for Juniper and slips it on her before pulling her from the crate.
The sight has me smiling like a kid on Christmas morning.
Jesus, I’m as bad as Enzo as I get giddy about the dogs.
“Can I still pet the dogs if they’re in the vests?” I ask, wondering if the information he shared for Enzo’s class is also applicable to these dogs.
“You’re holding Ivy’s leash, so you can pet her while she’s working for you.”
He hands me the leash, and Ivy glues herself to my side, matching my stride as we walk toward the restaurant. I give her a scratch on her head, and she pants, tongue out, looking like she’s smiling.
“Her commands are simple and intuitive, but if there’s anything specialized you need to tell her, I’ll let you know.” He smiles when I look over at him.
I guess if the dogs are between us, we’ll be able to interact normally, but I want more than that.
I beat him to the door and hold it open when we reach the restaurant, and he looks at me curiously.
At the host stand, I ask for a table on the patio, and we’re led out right away.
Most people are avoiding anything outside in the middle of the day in October, which still feels like the height of Summer in Atlanta, but there are big fans circulating air above us, and the whole space is covered, so it’s not as bad as it could be.
Tucker settles, and instead of taking the chair across from him, I sit beside him, angling my body so I can look his way.
It causes our knees to touch, which makes his cheeks blush a pretty shade of red.
I don't move away, but push closer. For a big, brawny country boy who was willing enough to tell me how he wanted me to stroke my cock over FaceTime, he sure is shy in person, and it shows. The hostess brings out bowls of water for the dogs. She makes the giddiest noises when Juniper crawls inside her bowl and tips it over, spilling water all over the patio floor and hopping around like it’s the best thing ever.
Ivy sits at my feet, looking unimpressed with her naughty daughter.
Once we’re alone, I start in on my mission to convince him I’m worth his time.
“Tell me about these other guys,” I demand, looking at Tucker’s profile and loving that I’m on the side with his dimple. It’s showing up under his beard as his jaw flexes. I want to press my thumb into it as I grab his chin and make him look at me.
His head jerks up, startled, as his hand knocks the silverware off the table with a clatter in his haste to unroll the napkin.
“What other guys?” he asks, his deep voice strangled as Juniper yelps at his feet and struggles to get away from the offending metal utensils that are lying next to her.
He bends down and retrieves the silverware, placing it across the table and taking another set.
He wants to keep his hands busy, it seems.
“The ones who used you to experiment and fucked you over. I want to know what I’m up against that made you not want to even consider giving this a chance.” I’ll get right to the point and walk him through this to get the information I need, if I have to.
He puts his elbows on the table and drops his face in his hands with a heavy sigh. My hand flexes on my knee, wanting to reach out and touch his biceps, trace the curve of his spine, or palm the back of his neck and drag him toward me.
Instead, I hook my foot behind the leg of his chair and pull, using all the strength I’ve developed in my lower body to move this mammoth motherfucker closer to me.
It startles him enough that his hands fly out to the sides looking to stop his momentum, but I’ve already turned his chair so our knees are splitting each other, and he has to face me now.
I reach out slowly, gently taking one of his hands, then the other, and pull them down to my knees.
“You’re safe with me,” I tell him slowly, repeating the words he’s told me a few times.
“If only that were true for my heart.”
Fuck. His words shred me with the razor wire precariousness he says them. They're just as likely to tear him up as they are to keep me out.
I rub my thumb over his knuckles. “I want to know why you say that.”
Before either of us can say another word, our server appears.
She’s a twenty-something, stacked blonde with Southern charm for days as she smiles warmly.
Tucker starts to pull his hands away from me, but I stop him and lace our fingers together so he’s trapped holding my hands.
See, I can do public displays of affection with him.
“Aren't y’all the cutest?” she says, eyeing our hands. “And these are just the sweetest little doggies! Aren't you adorable?” she croons to the dogs at our feet before she straightens and returns her attention to us almost reluctantly. “What can I get y’all today?”
“I’ll have water,” I say, and squeeze Tucker’s hands. “Anything you want, babe?” I ask.
He chokes, his ears turning bright red as he looks at me with something like humor and shyness before he manages to clear his throat and turn to the server. “Sweet tea is fine, please.”
“You betcha,” she says. “Take a peek at the menus and I’ll be right back with your drinks.” She turns and heads into the restaurant. Tucker tries to take his hands back as he turns to grab the menu in front of him.
“Let me order for you,” I insist. “They have an incredible menu, and I think I know what you’d enjoy the most.”
He freezes in his attempt to free his hands and looks back at me.
“Sebastian.” The warning in his tone is sexy as hell now that I know what he sounds like when he comes, and I’m not nearly as intimidated by it as I think he wants me to be.
“I’m perfectly capable of ordering for myself.
Don't treat me like your kid, or some puck bunny you’d take out. ”
“Tucker,” I growl back, and he visibly shivers at the sound. “I’m not treating you like anyone other than the man I want to take to lunch and watch as you eat food that’ll turn your face orgasmic.”
My choice of words hit their mark. Tucker bites his lip, his knee rubbing against mine as he shifts. “Don’t tease me, City Boy,” he says, voice low and pleading, yet still carrying a rumble of command.
“You only wish I were teasing you.” I smile and slide my knee along his thigh, the movement calculated and devious. I’m playing dirty, using the temptation he needs to make him give in, so we can both move past any perceived issues and give this a try.
“I do, because then I wouldn’t feel as bad saying no, knowing you’re just messing around. Instead, you’re fucking with my head, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to think at all,” he says, finally pulling his hands away from mine.