I’m not only looking forward to catching up on all those years we’ve lost, I also just want to spend time with her.
Looking at her.
Listening to her voice.
Fighting the urge to touch her.
Dreaming about her naked.
In my bed.
Maybe, just maybe she’ll let my dreams come true tonight.
Chapter Seven
Maisey
It’s so strange, how you can spend time with a person after not seeing him for years, and it’s like we were never apart.
That’s how it feels tonight with Tucker, sitting at the nicest restaurant in town, enjoying our drinks, our appetizers, me listening with rapt attention to Tucker’s stories about his experiences with the NFL. He’s played for three different teams, dealt with all sorts of personalities, and he’s a master storyteller.
I can envision these men he’s talking about—how one of them threw a major tantrum after every game, whether they lost or won. Another would always seek out the kindest looking older woman in the crowd, tell her she reminded him of the grandmother he’d lost, and give her a signed team jersey.
The tantrum story made me laugh. The grandma story made me a little emotional, and I had to force myself to not start crying like a baby.
And Tucker? He just plain makes me happy.
“Enough about me,” he says once our server takes our salad plates away. I’m already stuffed, and we haven’t even started on the main course yet. “Tell me about you. What have you been doing with yourself since high school? Did you go to college? How did you start making cakes? I don’t remember you baking much when we were together.”
My heart clenches at thinking of us together, and me never baking. The only thing I remember making with Tucker were those Halloween-themed sugar cookies that you throw on a baking sheet and cook for ten minutes. And those definitely don’t count.
“I was a little lost after high school. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, and I was working at the market. You know, the one with the donuts?”
He nods, somehow looking hungry even though we’ve already eaten so much food. “I dreamed of those donuts every so often over the years. They’re something you can’t ever forget.”
Tucker is so freaking dramatic sometimes, I think with a giggle. “Yeah, well, I started frosting the donuts. And I was having so much fun, I’ll have to show you my photos sometime. Anyway, my ideas were creative enough that they moved me to the cake section of the bakery, and I started decorating them. You know, the standard birthday cakes with white frosting and pink roses in the corners?” When Tucker nods, I continue. “When I got bored with that, then I graduated to wedding cakes, though the market didn’t do too many of those. Every time I got to work on one though, I was always so happy. I just let my creative juices flow and came up with some pretty awesome stuff.”
“That’s cool,” he says with a nod, leaning back in his chair, and I can’t help but admire him.
Did I mention how handsome he looks tonight? Dark rinse jeans, white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing those strong, muscular forearms. His light brown hair is extra messy tonight, flopping over his forehead. My fingers itch to push it back, test the silky softness.
I can’t stop staring at him.
And for some reason, it seems he can’t stop staring at me either.
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“I started thinking I wanted to go to culinary school, but there wasn’t one close enough, and they were all so expensive. I took some business courses at the local community college, but I barely lasted there two years. It was expensive, and I’d rather spend my time working and making money.” I shrug, hating how inadequate I suddenly feel. It has nothing to do with Tucker either. This is my own problem to deal with. A problem that’s absolutely ridiculous, considering I am a business owner, and a decently successful one at that.
“Not all of us are meant to go on to college,” he observes.
“I wish I had though,” I say with a sigh, bringing my wineglass to my lips and drinking the last sip. “That’s my one regret.”
He raises a brow. “Your one regret is that you didn’t go to college?”
I nod, feeling helpless. “I was so jealous of everyone leaving, of everyone doing something with their lives, and getting out of Cunningham Falls. Yet here I am, stuck in the same town I grew up in, never really moving ahead.”
“Are you serious right now?” Tucker’s voice is sharp and he leans forward, his intense gaze locking with mine. “You’re describing yourself like you’re some sort of—loser.”