Chapter 30 #2
And I do. I drive my hips out and thrust hard into her. One…two times before she’s over the edge. Her body shakes and she moans. Stars dance in my vision, but I keep my focus on her and everything she’s giving me. My abs contract seconds before I spill my release into her.
She doesn’t take her eyes off me.
We stare at each other, and I can almost feel the two of us saying those three words to each other with our eyes. But it’s not enough—it will never be enough.
Scottie deserves everything.
Even if I don’t feel like I do, she makes me believe that there’s a chance I deserve her.
“You two are late,” Andrea says to us as we make our way down the driveway.
Scottie laughs, skipping to meet up with her. “Sorry. Busy morning.”
Jade, standing next to her, arches a brow and looks at me.
I shrug, unable to hide the smile on my face.
Oblivious to anything, Andrea claps her hands once before turning to face the house.
She holds out a hand like she’s showcasing a work of art.
In a way, she is. Scottie takes in the house while I stare at her.
Her eyes widen, and the reaction tells me that she didn’t even notice it when we walked down the driveway.
“Is that…” Her voice trails off as her body carries her a few steps closer.
“They got the siding completely finished in one day,” Jade says, with a little pep to her voice. It’s a tone that says you’re going to do this. You’re going to nail it.
When I look at Andrea, though, her expression is unreadable. Almost like she’s pissed we finished it. I don’t fucking get it.
Scottie spins around, facing me. “Did you do this? You and your crew?” I nod, and she rushes for me, jumping into my arms and wrapping herself around me.
“You said you wanted rustic charm.”
She pulls back, giving me a knowing look. “It’s so perfect that I didn’t even know it was new siding.”
“Levi was able to find the type that was used on this house years ago. It was a bitch to find, but we did. I know how much you wanted to keep the house as close to what it originally was while adding your own touches,” I say, looking at the house.
“We decided the best option was to find the same siding. This way it looks the same, just less…”
“Abandoned,” Scottie finishes for me.
I nod.
Before she can say more, Andrea cuts in, clearing her throat. “So this is the last filming of working on the house before the big finale. Looking at the checklist,” she says, tapping her pen against the clipboard in her hands. “The entryway was last on the list. Not sure why we left it for last.”
“I think my thought process was that we would be going in and out of that door so much. Trekking in dirt, tools, and sawdust.” Scottie shrugs. “Why do it first when we would just have to clean it up or touch it up later?”
“Hmm.” Andrea nods in approval, but is clearly thinking about it. “I guess you have a point.” She snaps out of it. “All right. The crew is ready. Let’s get your microphones hooked up and ready to finish this today.”
Once everything is done, we make our way inside the house.
The camera crew is already set up with lights positioned.
Everyone stands around with a hungry focus like they’re waiting for something to go wrong.
Scottie doesn’t waver, though. I can’t tell if it’s because she isn’t picking up on the vibes I get from Andrea, or if because she’s just that confident.
I’m going with the latter.
Scottie stands in the middle of the entryway.
It’s large for a house this old, but it shouldn’t take long.
She has her hands on her hips, looking around.
She’s dressed in her signature paint-stained overalls again, which have even more on them from before this started.
She has her hair in a messy knot on the top of her head because we were running late this morning.
She catches me looking at her and grins. “Stop staring at me like that.”
“You’ve got paint on your face,” I lie.
“No, I don’t.”
“You do.” I step forward, cupping the side of her face, eager to touch her again, even if my cock was inside of her an hour ago.
I brush the apple of her cheek with my thumb, rubbing the imaginary paint away.
The whole room seems to disappear at the moment.
This is how I imagine telling her how I feel—in her element, where we both connected on a deeper level. But again, I fucking don’t.
“There. Got it,” I whisper.
When I pull my hand away, her body sways as if she didn’t want me to let go.
Andrea clears her throat and shouts, “Okay. Last episode. Let’s make it a good one.”
Scottie turns to face the camera, instantly smiling brightly.
“Over the last few episodes, I’ve learned a lot about this house.
My goal from the start was to make it shine again because I know that’s what my grandma would have wanted.
” She moves around the entryway, fingertips trailing along an old table sitting on one wall, and peeling wallpaper on another.
“To me…crossing that front door into the entryway, it’s the first thing you see when you step inside the house.
It’s where your guests get the first impression.
Where they kick off their shoes and stay a while.
But right now, it’s giving…haunted ghost.”
I snort, and so does half the crew.
She looks at me. “What?”
“Haunted ghost? Is that your professional design term?”
She reaches for a corner of the wallpaper, peeling it delicately as if it might bite her. “Look at this pattern. It’s like the flowers are judging me.”
I shrug. “Hey, maybe they are. They’ve been here longer than you.”
“Tucker, do not side with the wallpaper.” She narrows her eyes, stepping close to me. She covers the mic clipped on her with her hand as she whispers, “You’re not being a very supportive fake boyfriend.”
I bop her finger on her nose, leaning into her ear and away from my mic. “Good thing none of this is fake anymore.” Her breath catches, but she doesn’t move. “We moved past that stage a long time ago, baby. I can show everyone right now if you’d like.”
Scottie laughs, red-cheeked, facing the camera. “Well—” She clears her throat just before running her hands down her pants. I can’t help the smile on my face. “Anyway. We’re going to rip down all of this wallpaper, freshen up the trim, and then we’re going to paint something bold.”
“Define…bold.”
With her hands out in front of her, she paints a picture for the world to see. “A color that makes you feel something when you walk in.”
“The entryway doesn’t need to punch people in the face, you know? Everything else in the house is warm and calm and inviting.”
“First impression, Tucker. Remember?”
I cross my arms. “Neutral also can set the tone for a welcoming environment.”
I briefly see a look of disappointment cross her face. It’s not enough for anyone else to see, but I see it. I always see it.
This is her project.
This is her house.
“What color were you thinking?” I ask before she says anything more.
She looks at me, unsure. “I’m thinking about a deep teal. Like a lake at midnight.”
“That’s…actually not terrible.”
“Really?”
I shrug, trying to hold onto the skepticism even as she beams. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
For the next few hours, Scottie, myself, and my crew demo the entire room. The crew almost hauls away the entryway table, but Scottie insists she wants to keep it and work on it later. It’s an old, light oak colored table that doesn’t match. But she wants to sand it down and repurpose it.
We remove all the old trim and replace it with a more vibrant white to accent the flooring with the new wall color. All the old wallpaper is removed, and it feels like the smell of old perfume went with it.
By the time we finish that, Levi comes back with the paint can.
Once we crack it open and I get a good look at it, Scottie does a happy dance when she sees it’s the exact one she wanted.
I do think the color will be right.
Mostly because the truth is, I would forego every neutral paint swatch in existence if it meant she stayed this happy.
We set up the drapes and rollers, and start painting.
Once we get the first coat on, she stands back to look at it.
“I love it,” she whispers under her breath.
Yeah, well, I love you.
“Oh, you have more paint on your cheek,” I say, reaching up and brushing it again. But this time, the paint on my hand rubs all over.
“You did not.”
“I did,” I admit with a playful smile.
“You’re dead.”
She lunges at me, and I catch her around the waist before she can tackle me into the baseboards. Her laugh rings through the air but I don’t put her down. I hold her there, in my arms, because she fits here.
“Put me down,” she huffs.
“No.”
Her eyes flick to mine over her shoulder, heat sparkling there, and for a second, the cameras don’t matter. Nothing except her matters.
“Yes, Tucker!” Andrea calls out. “That’s it. That’s the shot we’ve needed all season. Look at her like you’re obsessed with her.”
I don’t have to fake that.
Scottie’s cheeks flush, and she realizes it before she wiggles out of my grip, swatting my chest. “Focus.”
I grip her chin in my hands, letting the crew see just how obsessed with her I am. “You should already know you make it impossible to focus on anything when you’re in the room.”
She rolls her eyes and steps away enough to reach for a paintbrush. She dips it into the teal paint can.
I step back, hands up. “If you ruin the floors, it’s on you.”
She lunges forward, smearing a tiny streak of paint on my forearm. I freeze, slowly looking down at the paint and back up to her in a dramatic fashion.
Scottie gasps. “Oh no.”
“Oh, yes.”
She backs up. “Tucker, don’t. I didn’t mean it.”
I dip my fingers into the paint with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact. “You times now you’re declaring battle.”
“I did not start a—”
I streak teal across her chest and she shrieks, stumbling backward into the front doorway, laughing so hard she can barely breathe. When I reach again, she steps through the door and onto the front porch.
“Not my front porch, Tucker!”
She backs up, down the steps, and onto the grass. I chase her, paint on my fingers, and we both laugh openly, bright and wild. Her face lights up in a way that makes me love her that much more.
She stops, catching her breath. “This is the last episode before the finale. You can’t have a paint fight with me in the front yard.”
“Fine,” I agree. I grip her waist, tugging her into me. The paint-stained hand reaches behind her, gripping her ass. “And now my handprint is permanently marked on these overalls.”
Her smile is wide, and I want to lean down and kiss it.
And that’s when I feel it. The sharp ping to my chest, the way my heart races completely unrelated to running around. It’s seeing her in the open front yard, sun hitting her cheeks. The urge to say it has never been stronger.
I feel it on the tip of my tongue.
But when I open my mouth to say it, the universe chooses that moment to remind us that nothing stays perfect for long. A throat clears beside us, and Scottie turns. Her expression shifts, her face goes white, and her body goes still as stone.
She looks terrified.
She looks like she wants to run and hide.
The cameras close in on us, making me more uncomfortable than ever. I shift, facing the same direction she is, and I notice the couple Griffin was complaining about the other day at Seven Stools standing there.
Whoever these people are, they have shifted something in Scottie that makes me protective of her. I want to step in front of her and pummel these two people—whoever they are.
But I don’t expect her to say what she does, barely above a whisper.
“Mom? Dad?”