12. The Mother
711 Words
I've never talked to anyone - other than Owen and a close friend - about my mother. I'm not entirely certain if I can talk with Tucker about her just yet. The memory of a time when my mother hit me with a belt finds its way into my train of thought.
I was seventeen and had gone on a date with Greg Wilkinson, a boy from my gym class in high school. My mother was furious and forbid me from dating until I was eighteen. Not only did she hit me with a leather belt repeatedly, but labeled her daughter as a w***e and a waste of space. Afterward, I realized that something as special as my first date was insignificant to my mother and I would never be able to live up to her standards.
I shake my head at him, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "Not exactly," I say, exhaling a breath. "She's part of the reason I moved here."
His expression clouds with something I can't quite put my finger on. "I'm sorry you have to deal with that," he responds sincerely.
I send him a smile. "Thank you," I tell him.
"Your welcome." He smirks. "I believe it's your turn, babe."
Okay. "Don't you think it's just a little bit weird that you're technically dating an employee?"
He begins to laugh, the action surprising me. I direct my gaze on the shine of his eyes and the youthfulness that shows. Great, he's even more gorgeous when he laughs, I think to myself while biting my lip to keep my mouth closed.
"No," he says, composing himself to chuckling. "I don't think it's weird, Rora. I may be the one to put my signature on your paycheck, but you're not my employee. My sister is the one who hired you, not me."
Shoot, I didn't think about it like that. "I see," I state, narrowing my eyes. "You're not just saying that so I'll go on a second date, are you?" I tease.
* * *
Around midnight, Tucker and I sit with the truck in park outside Dad's house, the warm night air fogging up the windows. The lone security light from the porch suggests that Dad is either asleep or not home. I move to open my door when a hand covers my knee, turning my attention back to Tucker. He instructs me to sit there and comes around the truck to open my door.
He takes my hand in his, his warm fingers tangled with mine as we walk up the path. At the front door, I turn to face him with a smile on my face.
"Thank you for tonight," I murmur, my voice filled with...arousal? "I haven't experienced that amount of probing questions since I met my family."
He returns my smile with one of his own and says, "It's my pleasure, sweetheart."
He leans in to place a wet kiss on my forehead. Then, my nose. Then...eventually, my lips. The kiss is slow and sweet as his tongue traces the seam of my mouth before sneaking its way in teasingly. My hands grip his broad shoulders as his arm wraps around the small of my waist, keeping me upright. I see now why a woman's foot should 'pop' when being kissed. Every touch is like pure electricity traveling through me.
When it ends and he tears his lips from mine, I'm left wanting more. Never in my years of life have I ever been kissed with such attentiveness and desire. I feel almost...rejuvenated.
Tucker pecks my lips one last time before exiting off the porch and heading to his truck, a heated look in his eyes. He waits for me to unlock and enter the house before pulling away. The house is quiet as I practically skip to my room, my body on its own personal cloud nine.
I brush my teeth and hair before exchanging my dress for a pink nightie. Once in bed, the thick material of my quilt envelopes me like a cocoon, heating my skin and causing me to doze. My phone vibrates from my nightstand a few moments after closing my eyes and I stretch an arm out to retrieve it. My messenger alerts me of a text and I click on the app.
Sleep well, gorgeous. Call you tomorrow. -T
- Writer
