Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“It wasn’t easy,” I admit. “Tucker was a tremendous support.”
“She’s being modest,” he insists. “Even before we met, she worked two jobs putting herself through college. And then afterward, she was up every morning and night with our daughter, doing feedings and diapers and all that while highlighting textbooks and writing papers. It was exhausting just watching her.”
“You’re two rather extraordinary young people,” Kevin says, as Bruce tops up our glasses. “Not everyone is as motivated or industrious at your age. I certainly wasn’t. Took me a few years to find my way.”
“I think having our daughter really encouraged both of us to make the best life for her that we can,” Tucker answers, clasping my hand under the table. “We want to give her everything. Make sure she’s always taken care of.”
“Stop,” Bruce groans. “You’re adorable. I can’t stand it.”
During dessert, Bruce and Tucker bro out over fitness stuff. Kevin’s eyes about roll out of his head when the two men leave the table to start comparing bodyweight resistance techniques. Tucker’s in amazing shape, and although he resists the urge to pull his shirt off, Bruce notices and remarks on my husband’s incredible abs and biceps. As if anyone could not. I don’t take it personally when Bruce blatantly flirts with him while Kevin and I talk law over our mango mousse. For what it’s worth, Kevin seems otherwise unfazed by his flirtatious partner. He’s a good sport.
“We’ll be here for another few days,” I let them know as they walk us out after a fantastic meal. “I’m sure we’ll run into one another again, but it’d be nice to return the favor. Not sure we can come up with a spread this great, but drinks at our place maybe?”
“Just point me toward the ice bucket,” Bruce says, kissing my cheek.
On the walk home under the moonlight, Tucker takes my hand, drawing shapes with his thumb across my knuckles. “You have fun?”
“Definitely.” Then I remember something, and my mood dampens slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bored with the bars?”
That gets me a shrug. “I’m not bored, exactly. Just restless sometimes.”
“Still, you should’ve said something.”
“I didn’t say anything because it’s really not a big deal. And I didn’t see the point in distracting you during your last year at Harvard.”
“You’ve been feeling this way for a year?” I swear, I love this man with all my heart, but would it kill him not to be the strong, supportive type all the time?
Tucker squeezes my hand. “I’m not feeling any sort of way. But see, this is why I didn’t bring it up. You would’ve just tried to fix a minor problem, and we both know your stress levels can’t afford to add anything else to your plate. It’s already damn full, darlin.’”
My husband being unhappy with his work doesn’t sound like a “minor problem.” But Tucker doesn’t allow me to dwell on it. He stops walking and brings my hand up to his lips, kissing my knuckles.
“Did I mention how hot you look tonight?” he drawls.
“Are you trying to distract me from your work stuff?”
“No, I’m trying to compliment my hot wife.”
Sensing he’s not going to budge, I decide to let it go. When he’s ready to talk about it, he’ll talk about it. For now, I’m just going to enjoy this night out with my husband. It’s been a long time since we spent an evening with other adults without having to constantly run to check on Jamie. I’d forgotten what it was like to be us as a couple, not just parents.
“Well, it’s about time you did.” I mock pout. “I went to all the trouble of picking out this dress, and you couldn’t be bothered to compliment it?” I have to admit, the long, linen wrap dress I’d chosen does amazing things for my post-pregnancy boobs.
“What a selfish bastard,” he agrees, gripping my hips to walk me back until I’m up against a palm tree. “Neglecting to tell you how gorgeous you look.”
“Such a bad boy,” I whisper.
Tucker kisses me, the flavor of wine still on his tongue. On this sandy path through the wild green shrubs and tall palms between our two houses, a warm breeze creeps over my skin. I hear only the waves nearby and the insect songs. It’s secluded, though not exactly private.
“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he mumbles against my mouth. His hands skim my body to squeeze my ass. “You’re beautiful.”
I tug on his hand. “We’re almost at the house.”
“I want to make you come now.”
Oh boy. When he talks like that, I can’t form coherent thoughts. There are so many facets to John Tucker, and I can honestly say this primal, alpha side of him is one of my favorites. Tucker is so agreeable most of the time, so happy to ignore his own needs and wants in service of mine and Jamie’s.