Tucker
I’m fighting an internal battle—would it have been wrong to kiss her, or will I just regret that moment’s hesitation for the next twelve years?
The thing that scares me the most is the realization that dawns on me—if that thunder hadn’t rumbled and jolted me back to reality, I would’ve let my lips meet hers with ease. It was like the past years disappeared into thin air, leaving old feelings in its wake. But would she have felt the same?
My breath is ragged as I clamber back inside the truck, having followed suit after Grace hightailed it back.
Apparently being caught in one downpour wasn’t enough to learn our lesson, so Mother Nature said I’ll show you and did it again.
Short, sharp laughs from either side of the cab break up the deep breathing coming from us both.
I ran a hand through the dark, wet strands flopping onto my forehead, flicking beads of water in every direction.
There’s a gasp from beside me. I comb back the damp pieces and look over just in time to see Grace blinking rapidly and pulling down the visor.
Her forefinger holds her top lashes away from the bottom.
If I had to guess, a wayward bead of water must’ve hit her in the face.
She stops dead in her tracks when she catches me moving.
I lean, arms crossed, against the inside door frame wearing a smile—the dictionary definition of smug.
“Can I help you?” The question is thrown at me with exasperation.
“Nope, just observing.” There’s no hiding the humor in my tone.
“Observing?” An eyebrow raises delicately.
“I just think it’s entertainin’ that you’ve got such a hang up about gettin’ wet.”
Grace scoffs before responding, “I do not have a hang up, as you so eloquently put it. I just don’t like wet things on my face.”
Immediately I choke on air, almost coughing up a lung. Grace gapes at me for a moment before her cackle fills the truck’s cab. Once I manage to take a breath without coughing, and Grace without wheezing, she shakes her head. “I really didn’t think that sentence through, did I?”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” I reply innocently.
“I think your coughing fit said more than words could.”
“You kinda caught me off guard with that one. Warn a guy next time?”
“You might just be insane, Beaumont.”
“Oh, c‘mon now, you love it.”
The moment that four letter word is uttered, our eyes meet once more.
That dropping sensation I know all too well swells from my stomach and right to my cock.
It’s been a damn long time since someone’s words, their voice alone, have had that effect on me.
But I’ll be damned if I let her in on that tidbit just yet.
I put the truck into gear and get us back to the main road.
The clouds begin to clear as we make our way along the interstate and back toward home.
I lay my head against my fist, resting on the windowsill, and direct my attention in Grace’s direction.
I should probably—definitely—be looking at the road instead, but her presence is irresistible.
She pulls me in with a fatal attraction.
“Is there something on my face?”
Her voice draws me out of my trance. Meeting her gaze, she pulls the sunshade down and looks at her reflection, twisting her face to and fro.
“What?” I feel a little dazed after spending so long just admiring her.
She glances at me out the corner of her eye. “You were just staring—is there something on my face?”
“I-I was not,” I trip over my words, which only adds fuel to the fire burning in my cheeks. How fucking embarrassing to be caught staring at your ex. I break eye contact and look away briefly.
“That’s not a no.”
“What? Uh, n-no,” I stutter, quite out of character for someone usually so confident, before clearing my throat and continuing. “No, there’s nothing on your face.”
Gracie holds my gaze for a moment, brazenly staring right back at me, before she looks ahead and grins. It reaches the corners of her eyes, and there’s the faintest flush visible in her cheeks. I don’t think I’ll ever see that smile and not feel warmth oozing through me.
Eyes back on the road, I can’t help the smile that pulls at my own lips.
In my peripheral, I see her look back at me, almost shyly.
It’s a battle not to look at her, but I keep my eyes planted on the road ahead.
Except I don’t miss her turning toward the passenger window, pressing her palms against her rosy cheeks and fighting that wicked grin.