Tucker:

“I heard somebody needed a little bit of spackle on the barn before her big awards ceremony tonight,” the perky little blonde girl says as we walk into the bedroom.

“Oh honey,” she grabs Molly’s face and brushes her hair out of her eyes, “I don’t know what Bailey was talking about. You’re gorgeous, girl. You’re both gorgeous. You two look like a movie star couple. I don’t know how you guys keep your hands off each other. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

I can see Molly is trying to fight back tears and it makes me feel awful all over, like physically pained. Shit is getting really heavy and it’s all my fault.

The blonde starts opening up briefcases full of brushes, make-up, and curling irons. “I brought the works, just in case. What are you going to wear tonight, love?” she asks Molly.

“I’m gonna go hop in the shower,” I say as Molly escorts her to the closet.

“Hold up,” Molly says, handing me my navy blue suit, shirt, and tie.

“You want me to shave?” I ask her.

“No. You’re perfect just like that.”

She’s right. She’s already getting a look into the mind of a stranger; dramatically changing my appearance would probably just push us both over the edge. I get into the shower and let the hot water pour over me.

It’s time to take inventory of my thoughts. Or at least the things that I think are my thoughts. No wonder my head is pounding. I’ll indulge until the hot water runs out, and then it’s back to being Mr. Supportive Boyfriend.

Things that I know:

I like to hunt.

I have a dad.

(I’m thinking those things are not super helpful to my plight, but we gotta start somewhere.)

I have asthma and am allergic to aspirin. (Good to know. What other fun secrets do my medical records hold?)

I had a maid named Suzanne who always made me uncomfortable with her tendency to baby me. (But I was poor in my dream?)

Mary??? Mary is the wildcard. I dreamed she broke up with me, but for some reason, I don’t think that was the end. I can’t see her in my mind. The only woman I see is Molly. The only woman I want is Molly.

I get out of the shower and begin dressing myself.

Something feels so good about a perfectly tailored suit. The pinstripe button-down shirt and the gold tie make me look like a man who knows how to handle business. Take away the beard and I’m your garden-variety CEO.

While we were out shopping, Molly was kind of baffled by my choice of style. She said it was like I was used to dressing like this. That no man would just pick out something like that for himself at random.

I had to fight back the urge to tell her that it’s a cheap mass-produced polyester blend that no self-respecting man would choose to wear unless they had to. She was just so happy with me that I didn’t want to burst her bubble.

When I asked her where I could get it tailored I thought she was going to faint.

Who am I to be a suit snob? Just a few weeks ago, I was sleeping in a hammock and washing two pairs of jeans that I have no idea where they came from in a creek every other day.

Strange things are happening. And I can’t tell if they’re real true memories or just my imagination, little scraps of things I picked up from watching TV or things I might have overheard somewhere.

I walk into the bedroom and the young blonde is putting the finishing touches on Molly’s hair, spraying her elegant updo as she shields her eyes. I have to pick my jaw up off the floor seeing Molly in that sexy black dress. It’s floor-length with slits up the sides and is strapless, accentuating the curves of her perfect breasts that I’m going to have to avoid trying to bury my face in for the duration of this shindig. Basic black. Completely elegant.

“Well look at you,” Molly smiles. “You sure do clean up nice there, mountain man,” she quips with her fake southern drawl.

“You look amazing,” I stammer.

“And I’m getting out of here,” the blonde says. “Now that mascara is waterproof, but the rest of your face isn’t. So no sloppy kissing til after your speech.”

Molly blushes as she thanks the girl, and she disappears down the hallway.

I want nothing more than to rip that dress off of her right now. I circle her like my prey as she stands there almost shivering, the tension between us undeniable. Maybe we’re going through a rough patch, if that’s what you want to call it, but I know the exact look to give her to get exactly what I want from her.

I’m not going to fuck her right now, but I am going to spend the rest of the evening teasing her, playing with her, making sure she’s absolutely begging for it by the time we get back here this evening.

She leans in to kiss me but I keep my distance. Exactly two centimeters of air are all that separates our lips. I feel my pulse beating in my neck. I smile at her and reach into my pocket.

“You look absolutely perfect, Molly,” I tell her. “But I feel like you might want to wear this tonight.” I hand her a jewelry box and she makes that face I’ve seen before. That face that shows me she’s not used to getting presents. It’s sad and cute and I’ll never get sick of that look.

“You know you don’t have to buy me stuff, Tucker.”

“Just open it.” I wink.

She gasps as she pulls the necklace from the box. It’s nothing fancy, just a silver chain with a bright green piece of peridot that hangs from it.

“It matches your eyes perfectly,” I say. “It reminded me of you. I had to get it.”

“I love it,” she sighs. “Put it on me?”

I step behind her, running my hand down her perfect bared shoulder, admiring the curve of her neck, and I can’t help but smother it in kisses. God, this girl is so sexy. I feel her skin goose-bump under my lips, and she lets out a light ‘oh,’ that makes my eyes roll back in my head.

I’m trying to think of anything I possibly can to fight off this painful erection that’s growing in my pants. I clasp the ends of the chain together.

“While you’re back there,” she says, teasingly, as she begins to slowly pull up the back of her dress, her legs so curvaceous and long in those black high heels. She flashes her black lace thong and pulls the string aside. “I figured I’d wear the other accessory you got me, too.” She giggles, tapping on the base of the glass plug wedged in that amazing ass of hers.

Just like that, she slides her skirt back down. She turns and grabs my face in her hands, staring me in the eyes, mischief all over her face.

“I see the way you’re trying to tease me, Tucker. Two can play that game.” She hovers her lips just over mine, and just the feeling of her breath on my lips is enough to make me damn near jizz in my pants.

“How’d you pull that off with whatshername here?” I ask.

“She stepped out when I got dressed. I had to be pretty sneaky.” She winks. I kiss her on the lips and she moans into my mouth. My hands grab her waist, move up her back, down to her ass, all over her, exploring every inch of her body, desperate to run my hands over anything that isn’t the black stretchy fabric of her dress. “Oh my God, Tuck,” she sighs. “We gotta go.”

“I know,” I say, dejectedly. “but when we get back…”

“Or maybe when we find an unoccupied bathroom stall,” she teases. “My only obligation is to show up on time and accept this award. The rest of the night is ours.”

“I like the sound of that,” I say. “Oh shit,” I mutter as she hands me my jacket.

“What’s wrong?”

I feel in my pants pocket. I run to the desk and open the drawer. I grab our suitcase and dump it on the bed.

“Tucker, what the hell are you doing?” she asks.

“My cufflinks.”

“Your what?”

“You know I don’t go anywhere without them. The gold ones with the deer heads.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Max gave them to me when we closed our first deal. The ones with the diamond eyes.”

Her face is lit with fear and confusion. I grab my temples, my headache raging.

“Molly, I don’t know what I’m talking about. Just gimme my jacket. We have to get going.”

She doesn’t say anything, just stands there chewing nervously on her lip.

“Relax,” I tell her.

“You can’t keep doing this to me,” she says. “I can’t just relax.”

“We’ll deal with this soon. I promise. This night isn’t about me. It’s about you. Don’t worry anymore for now, ok?”

“Who’s Max?” she asks.

“Molly!” Bailey’s voice rings from downstairs. “Your ride is here, dear!”

“Later,” I whisper, sliding on my jacket.