Chapter 3
Tucker carried her to a row of chairs setting just outside the tent. He hurried to get her out before they attracted much attention. Instinctively, he knew she’d be embarrassed if she caused another incident.
She was beginning to moan as he did a light jog towards the chairs. He laid her down, then removed his coat and placed it over her, pulling it up all the way to under her chin.
“Brandy, stay right here and stay warm. I’m going to get some water and a clean washcloth for your forehead. But stay here, okay?”
He saw her nod. Her face was pale, and she’d attempted to open her eyes, but closed them again with another moan. He suspected she’d be sick next.
He ran to the curtains where the catering equipment and staff were housed and got a clean dishcloth and a bottle of sparkling water. When he returned to Brandy, she had already rolled over on her side and was starting to vomit.
“It’s okay. You eat anything today?”
She shook her head and then retched nothing but a pink liquid. All she had on her stomach was alcohol.
“You need to eat something. That will soak up some of the alcohol.”
She ignored him and retched again. He held her hair back from her face before wiping her forehead, cheeks, and then finally cleaned her lips. He helped her roll back.
“Not too far back. Stay on your side. It might help.”
She sighed and snuggled under his jacket. “I hope I didn’t get your tux.”
“Nope. All’s safe. You were actually quite dainty about it. You should see it when I get sick. Not a pretty sight.”
“I can only imagine,” she mumbled. Then her hand searched and grabbed his as she opened her eyes. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did.” He held her hand, and then his thumb began to rub over her knuckles. He stopped himself. “You didn’t eat anything before you drank. It happens to the best of us. I’m going to get you something.”
“No. I’m on a diet.”
“Hogwash,” he said as he got up and headed for the food tables. Glancing back, he saw that her gaze followed him. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. Brawley was on him with concern written all over his face.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s gonna be fine. Liquor on an empty stomach. She just needed some fresh air, and I’m getting her something to eat.” He searched the small finger sandwiches and bypassed the frittata and vegetables.
“You let me know, promise?” Brawley answered. “We’re cutting the cake at midnight. Just a couple of minutes now.”
“I’m on medic duty, but I can only imagine what that kiss is gonna look like. You gonna mess up her face with it?”
“Nah. I wanna get laid tonight, Tucker. It’s my wedding night.”
“Smart move. Don’t worry about Brandy.”
“She’s in good hands.” Brawley winked and left to join the crowd gathered around the cake.
Tucker piled the dish with the sandwiches and returned to Brandy. She was attempting to sit up. He knelt in front of her. “I’ve got some bread here, which should be good for your stomach. Some kind of mystery meat in the middle, so go easy.”
She had pulled his jacket around her shoulders. She smiled. Her beautiful chest and cleavage was hard not to stare at, so he focused on the plate offered to her. She popped the little sandwich into her mouth and closed her eyes.
“Hits the spot.”
“Good.” He took one. “They’re not bad. You should have another.”
Brandy did as she was instructed.
“Feeling any better?”
She nodded. Her hair was hanging down over her shoulders as she put her elbows and forearms on her thighs. The gap in her bustier was enormous.
“I wish I could take this damned thing off and go topless.”
“A dangerous thought,” he said, slightly embarrassed she’d caught him looking.
She smiled. “So tell me something, Tucker. Did someone put you up to this? Be nice to the fat girl?”
The thought had never occurred to him. He was surprised.
“No. No one put me up to anything. Why, you think there’s something unattractive about you? Are you an axe murderer or serial killer or something I should be afraid of?”
She shrugged and gave a small laugh. “You know the expression. Age old tale. ‘Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.’ That sort of thing.”
“Whoa!” Tucker handed her the plate and stood up. “Who said anything about being a bride. If you’re thinking—”
“Happy New Year,” came the shout from the tent.
He looked down at her. She’d set the sandwiches to the side, took a deep breath, and said, “Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”
With the room erupting in horn and popper noises, Tucker came back to his knees, reached for her face, and melted his lips into hers. It wasn’t the wedding cake kiss Brawley would have, and tasted like a ham sandwich, but it definitely got the sparks going deep inside him. Almost painfully, his libido lumbered into full action mode. He felt like a battleship heading out to sea on its final mission. His heart pounded, almost hurting from inattention and need. The subtle scent from her perfume and the way her hair felt on his cheek nearly made him dizzy.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’d be better if you kissed me again. I needed that.”
Her fingers sifted through his hair. Their deep kiss left them both breathless. As his cheek set against hers, he whispered, “What was that?”
“You okay?” she asked, twisting the conversation and letting her eyes flirt. Her forefinger traced over his lips as she focused on them. He squeezed her shoulders but kept his hands in place. He desperately wanted to explore what was being so cruelly smashed underneath all that fabric.
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t be looking tonight and would keep his hands to himself. But his promise was going down in flames. He just wasn’t sure what he should do. He knew what he desired, but he didn’t want to take advantage of her, since he was fairly sure she was still pretty drunk.
“I don’t do this,” he finally said.
“I don’t, either.”
“I mean—what I meant was, you’re drunk, and I don’t think it’s right to—”
“If you’ve changed your mind, just say so. Don’t blame it on honor or some other BS, Tucker. I’m a big girl. I can smell a turn down when it’s coming. I’m used to it.”
His heart was breaking for whatever her experiences had been in the past. It was clear there was some damage there. But it just didn’t add up. He could not see any reason she should feel that way.
She’d started to stand, began to remove his jacket.
“Wait, Brandy. You got it all wrong.”
“It’s okay. Don’t patronize me.”
“Damnit. I’m not patronizing you. Would you get that goddamned chip off your fuckin’ shoulder, Brandy? What I’m telling you is I’m attracted to you. And I don’t want to take advantage. I’m not that kind of guy.”
He stood with her, putting the jacket back around her shoulders.
“Cake?” A silver tray with slices of wedding cake was presented to them by one of the wait staff.
Brandy eyed the tray, and Tucker could tell she wanted a piece. He took two plates. She was weaving slightly, so he guided her to sit back down. Then he got on his knees again, setting one plate aside. He cut a piece without frosting and held it in front of her. “Probably not the best thing for you to eat, but it might not be that bad.”
She watched him while she opened her mouth. He placed the cake on her tongue.
“Perfect. Delicious. More. With frosting,” she said.
“Brandy, you sure?” He could see some of the earlier dreaminess return to her eyes.
“What if I put some frosting here,” she said as she touched the top of her cleavage with her forefinger. “Or what if it got smeared lower. Would you lick it off?”
Tucker’s knees were shaking as his groin refused to behave. He inhaled her scent and the way her eyes were half-lidded while she dipped her finger in the frosting and slowly slid it down between her breasts. She leaned back on the chair, spread her knees, and dared him with her eyes.
His mouth watered as his tongue tasted her flesh beneath the sweet fluffy frosting. He sucked, pulling the top of her right breast into his mouth just short of creating a mark. But he wanted to. He wanted to see her naked, her nipples dripping with frosting, her sex wet with her desire for him. He needed to lose himself in those breasts as he took her deep.
Her fingertips touched his temples. She kissed his forehead, holding his head to her chest. Then one hand slid down the outside of his shirt to his waistband.
“Can I take you home with me?” she breathed into his ear.
“Darlin’, I’ll go with you anywhere. You just name it.”
“I should go get my shoes.”
“I’ll get them. But I don’t think you’ll need them.”
“Why?”
“Because, sweetheart, I’m going to carry you.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because it’s just what’s done on New Years. You stay right here, and I’ll go get them. You think about having that perfect year. You think about what a perfect night would be like, and then let’s go do it. Okay?”
He could feel her eyes on his back as he made his return to the party. One of the bridesmaids tried to drag him to the dance floor. She got his shirttails untucked from his waistband before he got away. In the corner were Brandy’s heels. He dipped to pick them up and sauntered right through the center of the dance floor, carrying his trophy in his right hand.
He saw the looks. He saw the surprise. He saw Mr. Hanks nod and smile some secret appreciation. Dorie winked at him. Brawley gave him a thumbs up.
He was back. Tucker was back in the real world. The night had turned from the biggest mistake of his life to something else quite extraordinary.
It was going to be the best night of his life. And this was only the start of a new year.