Grace
Five Weeks until the Rodeo
It’s eight o’clock on the dot when I hear a truck roll up outside. I’m grabbing my boots, stumbling and struggling to throw them on as I bound down the stairs, when I hear the front door opening.
“Mornin’, Tuck.” The sound of Dad’s cheerful voice trails through the house.
“She should be down any second. Beaumont’s here!
” The last two words are bellowed, almost deafening me and certainly waking a neighbor or two.
Dad comes into view as I pull on my second boot at the bottom of the stairs, beaming in my direction.
“I think the whole street knows now. Thanks, Dad.” I steal a glance at Tuck, who’s biting back a grin.
“Hey, Tucker.” He smiles freely now, the boyish grin reaching his twinkling eyes beneath the morning sun.
His dark jeans look like they’re painted on, and his Beaumont Rodeo School button up is doing the Lord’s work, holding on for dear life across his broad shoulders.
He tips the dark grey Clark hat at me in greeting, and I almost choke on my next breath—I actually do choke when he scrubs his hand across the opposite side of his jaw, the flexing and relaxing of his fingers working wonders on the veins on the back of his hand. He’s so good looking it hurts.
“Ready to go?”
I nod in response. With a kiss on Dad’s cheek, I follow Tucker off the front porch and down to his truck. I’m confused when he heads in the direction of the passenger door. “Decided you wanted to be a passenger princess, after all? Because I’m happy to drive the truck if so.”
“No ma’am, I stand by what I said last night.” He chuckles when I roll my eyes with a huff, still not appreciating the ‘ma’am’, and opens the passenger door, holding it open for me. “Just being a gentleman.”
“You always were the perfect gentleman,” I say as he closes the door and walks to his own.
He slides in with ease, his thick thighs pressing up against the center console. “I’d like to think there were some memorable moments where I was the opposite.”
I swear my heart somersaults behind my ribcage.
Meanwhile, something deep in the pit of my stomach does an almighty swoop.
I can’t help but respect the gall he has to make a comment like that, while simultaneously flashing back to other times I’d felt like this.
One particular time that might’ve included a slightly older truck and several less layers of clothing.
“Be careful, Tucker John, I might think you’re flirting with me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Grace Louise.” He reaches for the gear stick, his fingers skimming against the outside of my thigh as he does.
The touch is barely there, but that doesn’t stop it from lighting my skin up like a lightning bolt.
He catches my gaze out the corner of his eye, his hand unmoving.
“And, if the last time I saw you attempt to drive stick is anything to go on, we’re far safer with you buckled in tight right there, far away from the driver’s seat. ”
The scoff I let out is entirely unattractive. “Oh, come on. I was sixteen and terrified. You cannot hold that against me.”
“I can and I will,” is all he replies, fixing that glorious smile in my direction.
I’m painfully aware of the exact moment he moves his hand onto the gear stick.
It’s as though a cold front moved in directly onto my thigh, precisely where his fingers had skimmed.
If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I want to feel his skin on mine again.
A deliberate touch. What I don’t know is how I feel about wanting that.
Rationally, I feel like I shouldn’t want it, but all rational thinking flies right out the window when it comes to Tucker Beaumont.
We’re pulling into the gravel parking lot of the arena before I know it. Tucker turns to me as he turns off the ignition. “Don’t move,” he says before climbing out and walking to my side.
“You realize I can open a door on my own, right? I don’t need you to do it for me.”
“Oh, I know alright. You’ve never needed anyone to do anything for you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.”
His words give me pause. It doesn’t cease to amaze me, the way he recalls all these tiny details. It has my heart skipping a beat, because maybe he did think about me over the past twelve years. Perhaps even as often as I thought about him.
We walk side by side up to the arena’s main entrance.
Tucker produces a large keyring from his pocket, unlocking the front doors.
That unique aroma that can only belong to a rodeo hits me almost instantly, transporting me back to several childhood and early adult memories of evenings spent right here with the man beside me.
So many things have changed since then, and yet here we are, exactly where we once were.
“It feels like just yesterday that I sat over there, watching you claim the Junior Bull Riding Tennessee Championship for the fourth consecutive year. It was the first time I’d seen you compete, and I was in complete awe of you.
The fact that you looked almost edible in that vest and black chaps probably didn’t help. ”
An unexpected chuckle falls from Tuck’s lips. “I can’t believe you remember what I wore that day. Even I wouldn’t have been able to tell you that.”
The way he looks at me, his eyes softening and lips turned up slightly in the sweetest smile, is too much for my heart to handle. It feels too sincere, too much like days gone by.
“Don’t go getting a big head from that; I just have a great memory.”
Reverting to sarcasm is probably the oldest trick in the book, but it’ll do for now. I’ll need a better tactic if this continues to happen, though.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Let’s take a look around and make sure everything’s up to scratch for that list of yours.”
We spend the next hour wandering all through the arena and surrounding land, ticking things off as we go—the main arena hall will host the rodeo events during the day, with the far end sectioned off for the stage to be set up; the outside arena adjacent to the hall will showcase market stalls from both Beaumont Ridge and surrounding Eastern Tennessee small towns, as well as food trucks and mobile bars.
“Alright, that’s just about everything,” I declare, ticking off the final item on my list after determining where to station the custom hat branding.
“Just about? What’d we miss?”
“There’s one thing not on the list that I’d like to see—the announcer’s booth.”
I watch with hidden glee as his eyes flare briefly, but he recovers well. “It’s not all that fascinating, but we can head up there if you’re that keen.” He must think I’ve forgotten about the only other time I went into the announcer’s booth.
“Not all that fascinating?” I scoff, stifling a smile. “That’s where the magic is going to happen. Didn’t you hear? We’ve roped in one of the finest rodeo announcers in all of East Tennessee.”
Tucker smirks. “Just one of the finest? From what I’ve heard, he could take the top spot. Heard he’s pretty easy on the eyes, too.”
“Incredibly modest, as well.”
Without breaking eye contact, Tucker grabs his hat and does that all too sexy, southern charm, take it off and put it back on move. The smug little smirk on his lips has me mentally clenching my thighs, but it’s the way his tongue darts out and licks his top lip that physically clenches them.
“C’mon then, follow me.” Tucker turns and begins walking toward the stairwell that leads to the booth, as though he didn’t just give me a hot flush of desire.
“You really haven’t been up here before?
” he asks over his shoulder. I’m glad I wore a bit of makeup today, knowing it helps mask the rising heat in my cheeks.
“Nope,” I reply sweetly, popping the p sound. “Not that I can recall, anyway.”
He lets out a small “huh,” and I have to stifle a giggle.
The booth is exactly as I remember, only slightly more modernized.
There’s a large desk on one side that holds four monitors, two chairs, and two table mics that connect to the PA system.
On the other side there’s a mini fridge and a small countertop.
The wall-to-wall windows at the front provide uninterrupted views of the empty stadium below.
Tucker is watching me from the doorway, his body propped up against the doorframe. I drag my fingertips across one of the microphones. “How about a demonstration?”
“How about no?”
I place my palms on the edge of the desk, leaning back to rest my ass on it. “What if I ask really nicely?” I bat my eyelids for dramatic effect.
He flashes me a megawatt smile. “Answer’s still no. You’ll have to wait ‘til the big day like everyone else, sweetheart.”
I have to try very hard to hide the way the pet name affects my breathing, but I fail to stop my thighs from squeezing together in my jeans.
Tucker’s eyes flick down my body as though he can see exactly what his words are doing.
“Come on, Tucker, show me those skills of yours.” I need to pivot.
Distraction is always a good tactic, so I stick my bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.
Tucker doesn’t reply. Instead, he takes a couple of steps toward me, closing the gap between us with ease.
I’m frozen in place, and couldn’t put space between us even if I tried.
Our gazes are locked on one another. I don’t notice his hand moving until it’s in front of my face, his thumb running over my pouting bottom lip.
I’m waiting with bated breath, no clue what his next move will be.
My mouth is dry, and the temptation to lick my lip, and the pad of his thumb, is all consuming.
My gaze moves from his eyes to his lips, the small scar enticing me like a siren call.
When they turn up in a smirk, my body suddenly remembers it can function.
I stumble backwards slightly, hitting the main desk.
“How about I show you a different skill of mine? It would be more of a reintroduction to one you’ve experienced though, so only if you’re interested.”
My mind is racing, trying to figure out if he’s thinking about the same memory as I am, or if he really doesn’t think I remember. It’s not until Tucker places a gentle hand on my upper arm that I realize I’m completely in my head.
“Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “I can see the cogs turning rapidly behind those eyes. Let me try again.” He steps even closer still, our bodies almost flush.
Tucker has half a head on me, so he has to lean his down to reach me.
His lips ghost the shell of my ear and I let out a shaky breath.
It’s about twenty degrees hotter than it was two seconds ago.
I shiver when he exhales against the skin behind my ear.
Over a decade’s worth of want and desire bubble dangerously close to the surface.
“Gracie.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “If you’ll let me, I’d very much like to slide my hand into the waistband of your jeans and show you what twelve years of yearning does to a man. Is that something you’d like, sweetheart?”
I nod, completely lost for words. I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten how to speak all together.
“I’m goin’ to need to hear you say it.”
“Only if you’re as good as you were back then.” It’s more of a pant than words, but it does the trick because Tucker’s eyes flare dangerously.
He wraps his hands around the back of my thighs and lifts me effortlessly, fully placing me on the desk.
“I fucking knew you remembered that,” he growls, making me giggle breathlessly.
“Your first orgasm isn’t really something you forget. And you looked so good in that cowboy uniform of yours.”
His hands don’t leave my body, instead roaming along the length of my legs and up across my hips, squeezing. There’s nothing but raw desire in his eyes, as though he’s already undressed me in his head.
“Wait,” I say, an ocean of emotions crashing through me. I meet his gaze and hold steady. “Will you kiss me?”