Chapter Twenty

TUCKER

“Help me with this,” I ask Racer as I try to position the plush cream rug I bought for the living room. The other day I went to Olum’s furniture and dipped into my savings. I purchased some things for our house, hoping to surprise Emma. Again.

“I came to finish up this mantle, not decorate with you,” Racer replies while leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

“Just fucking help me. Christ, dude.”

Racer huffs and walks over to the other side of the rug and helps me position it. “You should do it at an angle, offset the furniture. Gives the room a fun yet cozy feeling.” I lift an eyebrow at him and he shrugs. “Nate Berkus was on Rachel Ray the other day, and he has some good pointers.”

Racer’s celebrity crush is Rachel Ray. He loves her.

“I think straight is fine.”

“Have it your way.”

He helps me move the couch back into position, and then adds the navy blue armchairs I purchased for either side of the rug. Across from the couch, I lined up the new oak buffet that matches the coffee table, and doubles as a TV stand. I brought my TV down from my room and set it up so Emma and I can snuggle on the couch and watch movies, instead of always having to watch things on her computer screen, or in my bed. Although, that had its advantages . . .

And then there’s the dining room. Instead of our card table, which holds some good memories, I purchased a bar-height seven-piece dining room table that takes up the space perfectly and fits in with the rest of the furniture in the house. I topped everything off with a few bunches of fresh peonies around the house because they’re Emma’s favorite. They were a bitch to find. I had to go to a florist.

“I think that does it.” I wipe my forehead and look around the space. Shit, it looks really good in here. “The fireplace came out great, man. Thanks for the help.”

Racer dusts off his fingers on his bare chest and says, “Told you I was the fireplace master.”

He is. He took a dreary brick fireplace and turned it into something slightly rustic with the wood-top mantelpiece. A nice centerpiece for the comfortable living room.

“Are you going to put those somewhere?” Racer points to a few picture frames currently placed on the new dining room table.

“Shit, I almost forgot.” I take the frames to the mantle and line them up, making sure my favorite picture of me kissing Emma’s cheek in Skaneateles is in the middle. That smile; fuck, she’s looks so damn happy. I’m a fucking lucky bastard.

Racer takes it all in and nods. “Yeah, those will score you some brownie points.” He clears his throat and adds, “You like her, like really like her.”

I nod. “Yeah, I fucking do.”

Thoughtfully, Racer runs his hand over his jaw. “Does this mean you can move past Sadie, and redo the nursery?”

Never skipping a beat, Racer gets straight to the point. I don’t blame him though. He’s watched me for over a year try to deal with the backlash. I’m sure he’s ready for me to move on.

“Small steps, man,” I answer, feeling the weight of the nursery now hanging on my shoulders. Last time I was in that room was when I showed it to Sadie. I’m not ready to return, although now, I’m not as sure why. Sadie’s gone. There is no baby . . .

“Okay, but don’t you—” Lights shine in the windows indicating Emma’s return home.

“Shit, you’re not supposed to be here.” I scramble to gather Racer’s tools and his shirt and toss them at him. “I don’t want you acting like a dickhead when she sees it all for the first time.”

“You mean I don’t get to be a part of the grand reveal? After everything I did to help? That’s fucked up, man.”

“You’ll live. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Now fucking move.”

I push him toward the side door just as Emma walks in. She’s wearing a pair of yoga pants and a green Binghamton University sweatshirt. Her hair cascades down over her shoulders and her blue eyes are highlighted with just a hint of mascara. God, she’s so beautiful.

She takes us both in and carefully sets her backpack on the counter. With a pop to her hip she points at both of us and says, “It’s a little concerning that I keep coming home to you two without your shirts on. Is this something I should be worried about?”

“Ha, Tucker wishes.” Racer pushes me and I push him back.

“We were just doing some work,” I answer.

“Yeah, and Prince Charming over here won’t turn the heat down while we’re working because he doesn’t want you to be cold when you get home.”

Emma sweetly smiles at me, stands on her toes and gives me a light kiss on the lips. “Thank you.”

Racer rolls his eyes as I wrap my arm around Emma’s waist. “All right, I’m out. See you tomorrow, dude. Bring the Oatmeal Pies, you owe me.”

I do owe him. We say our goodbyes and when the side door shuts, I grip Emma’s hands and say, “I have something to show you, but you have to close your eyes.”

She closes them and says, “Am I going to open my eyes and see you standing there with your pants down? You don’t have to go to such great lengths to have sex you know, you can just ask.”

“It’s not sex.” I chuckle and guide her into the living room. I angle her in the corner so when she opens her eyes she can take in both the living room and the dining room. I hold her shoulders and take a deep breath; I really hope she likes it.

I lean over her shoulder and whisper in her ear, “Okay, open your eyes, baby.”

“Oh my gosh, Tucker.” She turns to me and then looks around again. “It looks like a magazine in here. Did you do this all by yourself?”

“Racer helped.” I swallow hard. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it? Are you kidding? It’s gorgeous. It’s so beautiful in here.” She looks around, her fingers caress the armchairs and she leans over and smells the flowers I placed around the two rooms. When she turns back to me, she shakes her head in disbelief. “This is incredible, Tucker.”

I start to walk toward her when her eyes look behind me and they start to fill with tears. I follow her line of sight and see that she spotted the pictures I framed of us for the mantle. She walks over to them and I follow closely behind, wrapping my arms around her waist.

She caresses the frames gently, taking her time looking at them.

“I thought it would be nice to have some pictures of us on display.”

She shakes her head and says, “I can’t believe you did all of this.”

“I did it for you,” I whisper. “I want you to be comfortable here. I want a comfortable place for you to study, especially with finals lurking. I want a place where we can snuggle and watch movies together. I want us to have a proper table to eat dinner at, not something that can fold up and fit between a slot between the fridge and the wall.”

“Tucker, from the moment I walked in this house, I’ve been comfortable. I love living here.”

“You do?”

She nods. “I do. I didn’t want you to furnish the house for me. I wanted you to be the one who felt comfortable in this house, to make it your own. Your home.”

I grip her waist and say, “I made it ours. Our home.” And fuck if that isn’t the truth. It’s not a cold, lonely house. It’s a warm, welcoming home. Because of her. I lean down and press a kiss against her lips, loving how her hand instinctively grips the back of my neck to deepen the connection. When I pull away, I drag my thumb over her bottom lip. “I just always want you to be happy, Emma. Always.”

“I am happy, Tucker.”

“Good.” I kiss her forehead and say, “Promise me if you’re ever unhappy, you’ll tell me. No hiding things like that convo with Logan, all right? I want you to come to me, okay?”

“Promise.”

***

“Seriously, hands down, Tom Hanks is the best actor of all time.” Emma lifts off my chest and fidgets with her hair. “He’s so versatile.”

I glance at the TV and then at Emma again. “You’re making that statement after watching The Burbs?”

“I am.” She holds her chin high.

“You know he’s had way better performances, right?”

“I just felt like he was so earthy in this film.”

“Earthy?” I chuckle. “Where the hell do you get earthy from?”

She shrugs. “Just seemed like the proper term.”

“It’s not.”

“You don’t know.”

“I do.” I snag her waist and plop her on my lap. The candles in the room are slowly starting to burn out, and the family sized bag of peanut M&M’s we decided to share is almost gone. I couldn’t have picked a better way to spend my night with Emma. In my arms, in the new living room, watching a movie, and breathing in her fresh, flowery scent.

Goddamn, I like her so much. For so long, I never thought I’d have this. Her.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Em.”

She looks up at me, probably sees the serious intent in my unexpected comment, and smiles. “Me too, Tucker.”

Because I can’t not touch her, I stroke her cheek with the back of my hand. They’re builder’s hands. Rough. Overused. Often cracked from the cold. Yet she never flinches when I touch her silky soft skin. I’m not good with words, so I don’t really know how to communicate how much it means to me that she’s here. That she seems just as glad to be home as I am to welcome her. All I can do is touch her, and hope she knows. Hope she knows I’d feel empty and lifeless without her.

“What do you have planned for the rest of the evening?” she asks, shifting on my lap with a smile. And there it is. The smile that is both sweet and wicked. By the gleam in her eyes, she can feel my hard-on. It’s that easy with her. She just has to touch me and I get hard.

“I was hoping you had something planned for me.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. I think it’s time we break in this couch.”

“I was hoping you were going to say that.” She stands from my lap and pulls her pajama shirt over hear head revealing a purple lace bra that barely covers her luscious tits, followed up by taking her pants down, showing off a matching thong that’s so thin I’m not sure it should even be considered underwear. Her long brown hair sways over her shoulders as she pushes it to the side to show off her little outfit.

“You had that under your pajamas the whole time and never said anything?” I ask, so fucking turned on.

“I did.”

“And here I had to watch the movie the entire time with my shirt off. How is that fair?”

She starts to play with the straps of her thong as she answers, “It’s not my fault you’re a terrible negotiator.”

“I didn’t even know we were negotiating.”

“And whose problem is that?” She reaches down to my jeans, unbuckles them, and pulls my pants off with a little assistance from me, leaving me in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs.

She pouts for a second and says, “I thought you would be wearing those grandpa panties I like so much.”

She straddles my lap and presses her hands against my chest while her hips start to slowly move over my erection. Fuck yes, that feels good.

“They’re not grandpa panties. They’re just regular briefs.”

“Yes, they are. They’re gramp-ties.”

“Is this your idea of foreplay?”

She rubs her thong-clad ass over my lap. “I don’t know, you tell me. Seems like it’s working.”

“Only because you look so fucking hot.”

“You like this outfit?” She continues to maneuver on my lap, my cock hard as a fucking rock, and I’m certainly enjoying the view.

“If that’s what you want to call it.” I nod at her chest. “Take your bra off, babe.”

A wicked smile appears across her face. “Make me.”

“You really want to play that game? You know I’m significantly bigger than you, right?”

“Size means nothing.”

I thrust up into her, causing a little moan to pop out of her mouth. “It should matter.”

Her hands fall to my chest as she braces herself against me. “Maybe it does a little.”

I reach behind her and pop off her bra, watching it fall down her shoulders and exposing her gorgeous breasts. Wasting no time, I bring her chest forward and lower my head so I can suck one of her nipples into my mouth.

“God, yes,” she moans.

God, yes is fucking right. Everything about her is so damn right. Every. Fucking. Time.

***

Slap.

“Ouch, that hurt.” I shake my hand and then hold it to my chest.

Emma points her wooden spoon at me and says, “Stop eating all the croutons out of the salad or else there’ll be none left for our guests.”

There is a knock at the side door. I go to answer it as I say, “You can ask nicely; you don’t have to go whacking me.”

She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “I thought you liked a good whacking.”

Fucking sassy woman.

I open the door to find Adalyn, Smalls, and Racer waiting to be let in. Emma cutely asked me the other night if we could have a little dinner party to break in the new dining room table and honestly, I can’t deny that woman anything, so I agreed. And it didn’t seem like that bad of an idea, although I was nervous about Emma inviting Logan, but since she didn’t mention his name on the attending guests list, I assumed she didn’t ask him to come over. Smart move, because I don’t know how long I could fake being nice to that douche.

“We’re here,” Racer says, shaking a bottle of wine in my face. “Wine is from me.”

Smalls smacks Racer on the back of the head. “Wine’s from me, asshat. Is that why you offered to carry it in?”

“Of course.” Racer hands me the wine and then says, “We picked up this little lady in the driveway as well. I’m assuming she belongs to Emma, either that or we found a lurker and invited her to dinner.”

“Hi, Adalyn. Glad you could come.” I step aside for her to enter with the boys. I slug Racer in the shoulder as he passes and say, “Don’t call Emma’s friends lurkers.”

Racer rubs his arm. “Damn, did everyone’s sense of humor take a trip to the shit pit? Or are we supposed to act all proper because we’re having a dinner party?”

“Little class, man,” Smalls mumbles as we step into the kitchen. Emma and Adalyn are already hugging when I finish closing the door.

Adalyn pulls away and gestures to Smalls and Racer. “Going to be honest, I’ll be staring at those two all night.” She turns to the guys and continues, “Listen up, boys. I’m not going to be sad if you eat with your shirts off. Just a suggestion, take it or leave it.”

Racer pats Smalls on the back. “Trust me, sweetheart, you don’t want this guy taking his shirt off. His pancake nipples will scare you for weeks. I still have yet to put a flapjack in my mouth, too scared I might be eating Smalls’s nipple.” He nudges Smalls in the side with his elbow. “Talk about nipple confusion.”

Smalls shakes his head. “You’re fucking twisted, man.” Smalls takes off into the dining and living area and from the kitchen you can hear him say, “Damn, it looks nice in here.”

Emma nudges me with her elbow and kisses my jaw before turning back to the cheddar broccoli soup she’s been working on. “Should be done soon. Table is set, Tucker, so if you want to pour that wine for everyone, that would be great.”

I cringe. “Want me to pour it into the day-of-the-week mugs? We really don’t have any glasses besides two.”

“You don’t have wine glasses?”

“Babe, I had two mugs when you moved in. Do you really think I have wine glasses stored away somewhere?” The boys normally bring beer.

She chuckles and shakes her head. “Dumb question. Well, mugs will have to do.”

“Aw, you two are so cute,” Adalyn coos. “Can I help with anything?”

“I think we’re all set,” Emma answers as she stirs the soup.

“Good, because that was just a polite offer.”

Racer snorts and puts his arm around Adalyn. “I like this girl. Why don’t we go enjoy some wine in a coffee mug while trying to stare through Smalls’s shirt to see his pancake nips?”

“Sounds like a fetching idea.”

They walk out into the living area with the mugs and wine in hand leaving me a little worried about what might be blossoming between those two.

“That can’t be good.”

“I’m not worried.” Emma takes a sip of the soup and makes a cute little noise of approval.

“Why aren’t you worried?”

“Racer isn’t Adalyn’s type. If anything, they’ll become best friends.”

“Why isn’t he her type?” I ask, feeling slightly defensive for my friend.

“They’re too similar.” She points to the bowls on the opposite counter. “Can you bring those over here please?”

“Nothing wrong with being similar.” I place the bowls next to the stove where she starts filling them with her soup that I’m looking forward to trying.

“Not at all, but Adalyn needs someone broody, a challenge. Racer is too easygoing for her. Don’t get me wrong; if they ended up having sex, I wouldn’t be surprised. But a relationship? Never going to happen.”

“Well there goes double-dating,” I tease as I wrap my arms around her and kiss the side of her neck. “Smells fucking fantastic, babe.”

“Tastes even better.”

I lightly nibble and lick the skin along her neck. “I couldn’t agree more.”

She turns in my grasp once she’s done filling up the bowls and says, “Do not get a boner right now. I wanted to have a nice dinner party. No boners allowed.”

“Yeah, no boners allowed, dude.” Smalls walks in with a mug of wine.

Emma startles and steps away from me as if we were just caught by her parents. I don’t let her get very far and pull her back into my chest. “Do you need something?” Emma asks, trying to be the polite hostess.

Smalls tilts the mug in our direction to show us the wine. “This shit is fucking nasty. Apparently I’m polite, but can’t choose a wine to save my own ass. Got beer, man?”

“In the fridge on the top shelf. Help yourself and grab one for me too.”

“You’re not going to drink the wine he brought?” Emma asks. “You don’t want to be rude, Tucker.”

I lower my hand to her ass, lean forward and press a light kiss on her lips as I squeeze her behind. “And I also don’t want to drink the sludge he brought, so being rude doesn’t faze me.”

Smalls hands me a beer. “If it was Racer who brought the wine, Tucker would be drinking it because we both know Racer would bitch and complain about it until the bottle was gone.”

“True fact.” We bump our bottles together and Smalls takes off into the living room again.

Looking around the corner to see if he disappeared, Emma whispers, “Do you think I have to drink it?”

“I think you’re going to have to bite the bullet, babe.”

Gripping the beer around the neck of the bottle, she brings my drink to her lips and says, “If I have to drink the crap wine, so do you.”

Taking down half the bottle, she places it on the counter and then starts bringing the bowls of soup into the dining room.

Damn.

Funny thing is, if Emma asked me to drink the crap wine, I would, because it seems I’d do anything for this girl. She’s quickly become everything to me. She makes me feel real, justified, like everything I’ve done in my life leading up to this moment was meant to be. That I walked through hell and finally came out on the other end slightly burnt but fucking happy.

Funny thing about true happiness, though. You never know it’s inside you until someone pulls it out.