Grace
Four Weeks and Four Days until the Rodeo
The rising sun shines brightly through the crack in the curtains, streaming in over Tucker’s broad form beside me.
He’s lying on his stomach, one hand resting beside his head and the other tucked beneath the edge of my pillow.
The faintest snore is the only sound to be heard in the room.
He looks so peaceful, and so, so handsome.
I’ve always found him handsome, ever since I first laid eyes on him all those years ago, but there’s something about this grown, slightly more rugged version of him that steals my breath every time I look at him.
As I’m staring, Tucker lets out a content sigh, his eyelids fluttering open.
His big bourbon eyes light up and a small grin tugs at his lips as he looks at me.
“I don’t think I’ve ever slept that good.
” Tucker cups my cheek, his thumb mindlessly stroking back and forth. “Are you really here, in my bed?”
The complete look of adoration he gives me causes a lump to form in my throat. I attempt to swallow before speaking. “I’m really here.”
His answering smile knocks the wind right out of me.
I can’t help staring at him, seeing both the young boy I loved so dearly and the grown man who’s taken his place—the man I’m liking more and more the closer we get.
Thoughts from the porch attempt to infiltrate the happiness I’m feeling, but I shut them down with a deep breath.
“Are you sure this isn’t just some vivid dream playing out in my head?” He asks, narrowing his eyes playfully, his thumb still stroking my cheek.
I place my hand over his. “This isn’t proof enough?”
He contemplates for a moment before shaking his head against the pillow. “Nope, afraid not. Still seems far too good to be true.”
I roll my eyes as he bites back a grin. “I think I know how to prove it,” I murmur, dragging our hands to my lips and kissing his palm.
He closes his eyes, and I nibble his palm playfully.
I don’t give him the chance to retaliate, though, because the moment Tucker opens his eyes again, I lean in and kiss him.
It’s soft at first, just two sets of lips gently melting together.
But then Tucker slides the tip of his tongue along the seam of my lips, and I part them instinctively.
He moans into my mouth, the sound causing my nipples to harden painfully against the rough material of Tucker’s shirt.
I hadn’t meant to sleep in it, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love being completely enveloped in his intoxicating scent—both from his shirt, and the fact he’s lying beside me right now.
I break the kiss first, if only to try and catch my breath. Panting, feeling slightly dazed, and more than a little turned on, I smile like an idiot at Tucker. “You believe me now?”
“Every moment with you has always felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from, Gracie.” He rolls us until he’s on top of me, looking down with a lust-filled gaze. “But yeah, sweetheart. I’m startin’ to believe this is real life.”
“Starting?” I ask with fake exasperation, throwing my arms out helplessly. “I don’t know how else I could possibly convince you, cowboy.”
He grins at me wickedly, bringing his face to mine and speaking against my lips “Oh, I might have an idea.” We’re kissing again, but we’re rudely interrupted by a phone ringing before we can even get to the good stuff.
“Ugh,” I groan against Tucker’s lips. “Would you shut that phone up so we can finish what we were about to start?”
Tucker lifts his head, glancing at the bedside table. He smirks at something before looking back at me. “Seems to be your phone causing the interruption.” He reaches for my phone and hands it to me. It immediately begins ringing again.
“Please tell me that isn’t my sister cock-blocking us right now?” he asks, exasperated.
I groan, throwing my forearm across my eyes. “Wish I could.”
Tucker plucks the vibrating phone from my fingertips and the ringing stops. “Damn, three missed calls from Whit. She doesn’t even call me that many times a week.”
I’m contemplating why on Earth Whitney would be calling—when it suddenly hits me.
“Shit!” I scramble out of the sheets, almost falling right out of Tucker’s bed in the process. “We were meant to meet for coffee to go over the numbers”—I peek at the time—“crap, twenty minutes ago.”
I feel frazzled, circling Tucker’s room for my discarded belongings.
When I can’t seem to find anything except my bra and underwear, I let out a frustrated sigh.
Tucker places his hands on my shoulders.
“Hey, look at me.” I do as he says, instantly feeling slightly calmer than before. “How can I help?”
“I can’t find my dress, but I know I have a spare pair of jeans on my passenger seat. But I need to let Whit know I’m going to be late.”
He gives me a small smile. “I think she already knows.” I wince, but he’s right. “Here,” he says, grabbing my phone off the bed. “Give me your pin and keys and I’ll look after Whit and the jeans while you get yourself ready. How does that sound?”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Thank you, Tucker.” Locating my keys on his dresser, I toss them to him.
“Passcode?”
I freeze, knowing full well that my passcode has remained the same for over a decade. Maybe he won’t realize? Guys don’t always pay attention to that stuff. If I act natural, he won’t even catch on.
“882537.”
“8-8-2…” His voice trails off as he looks back up at me. “All this time, and you never changed it?”
“Couldn’t bring myself to,” I admit solemnly.
I remember the day I set that passcode like it was just yesterday.
“Do you girls want some lemonade and snacks?” Mr. Beaumont appears in the doorway with a smile.
“Yes, please, Daddy,” Whit replies sweetly.
I stand swiftly. “Can I help you, sir?” Dad has drilled something he calls southern hospitality into me over the years, so I’m basically hardwired to offer assistance to others, particularly when I’m benefitting from whatever it is they’re doing.
I don’t mind though. Mr. Beaumont is really nice, and always fetches us treats when Kenny and I come to visit.
“That would be great. Thanks, Grace. I’ll grab some ice from out back and meet you in the kitchen.”
I follow him down the stairs, turning right where he turns left.
Not watching where I’m going, I almost smack right into Whitney’s older brother, Tucker.
The fright I get causes my phone to slip from my hand, hitting the floor.
We go to the same school, but he’s in the other class and hangs with his older brother and his friends, so I don’t know him very well.
Whit’s always told me he’s not so bad, as far as older brothers go.
He grabs me by the shoulders and steadies me. “Careful there, Gracie.”
I roll my eyes, but a little part of me feels giddy because he’s pretty cute. He’s the only person who calls me Gracie, and I don’t even know why. “It’s Grace,” I reply coolly.
“I know.” He flashes me a grin and bends down, picking up my long-forgotten phone. He presses the home button as he grabs it, looking at me wide-eyed when it opens straight up.
“Are you insane? Why don’t you have a passcode?” He sounds so confused, I almost laugh.
“Because I don’t know anyone who’d want to get into my phone? What’s it matter to you, anyway?”
He shrugs a little too aggressively. “It doesn’t matter to me, but don’t you have things you want to keep, like, private?”
“Do you have a passcode?” I ask, crossing my arms across my chest.
“‘Course I do.”
“So, what are you trying to hide?”
His face goes red, and he awkwardly rubs a hand across the back of his neck. It’s almost cute, seeing him embarrassed.
“Uh,” he stutters, laughing uncomfortably. “How old are you again?”
“Twelve,” I say with my chin held high.
“I’ll tell you when you’re fourteen.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not even fourteen, you’re literally only like nine months older than me.”
“Doesn’t matter, I’m still older than you.” His smile is smug and it makes me want to slap him.
“Can I have my phone back now please?” I ask with a sigh.
“I’m giving you a passcode first. Safety and all that.
” There’s a weird little feeling in my stomach as he looks at me.
Up close like this, he’s even hotter than I first thought.
He has these big brown eyes that almost glow, and what looks like a scar above his top lip.
I want to ask him how he got it, but that seems like something a friend would ask. And I don’t think we’re friends.
“Well I’ll just take it off when you give it back,” I say defiantly, determined to make sure he knows he isn’t the boss of me.
“Oh well, at least I looked out for you.” His eyes meet mine for a moment, and that weird feeling in my stomach comes back. My whole body feels strangely warm as he looks at me.
He busies himself on my phone, tapping and swiping until he finds what he’s looking for. He contemplates for a second, before looking at me and grinning. Chuckling to himself, I move to watch over his shoulder as he taps random numbers.
“Tucker, how am I supposed to remember that random combination?”
“I made it easy for you—as long as you know how to spell my name, you’ll be fine.”
“What?”
“Your passcode is the numbers that spell out Tucker. You’re welcome,” he adds with a wink, sliding my phone back into my hand.
His fingers brush mine, sparks igniting, and I take a step back.
The smug look remains as he walks away in reverse, keeping his eyes on me until he’s out of the room.
I feel my cheeks heating. What in tarnation just happened?
Remembering I’m already now twenty-five minutes late drags me from my reminiscing. “Can I borrow your shower?”
“What’s mine is yours.” He says it so casually, as though everything has always been ours.
The look on his face is anything but casual though.
His brows relax, the smile slowly fading as his eyes soften around the edges.
It’s like he’s looking right through me, seeing all the memories of us I’ve clutched onto and held close to my heart while we were apart.
It brings out a certain vulnerability, but I don’t shy away from it.
I hold his gaze, the flicker of a smile twitching at the corner of my lip.
His eyes follow the movement, and he closes the distance between us in a few strides.
Neither of us speak. Our deep breaths are the only sound breaking the silence.
My heart picks up speed when Tucker leans in, one hand gliding along my cheek.
I lean into his touch and let my eyes close.
The delightful smell that is exclusively Tucker Beaumont sweeps over me like a breeze.
I open my eyes just in time to watch him press his lips delicately to my forehead.
“Tell her you’ll be there in thirty?” he asks against my forehead.
“Make it twenty—I’m late enough already.”