Author: Teresa Mummert

It made me nervous. I dug into my bottom lip with my teeth and stared down at my hands. He had to want something from me. No one goes this far out of his way to be nice to someone without wanting something in return. “And you still aren’t going to tell me what you do for a living?”

He sat his beer on the table and shook his head no.

“I’m not going to judge you.” I laughed. “I’m a waitress, for God’s sake.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make it sound like you’re beneath everyone else.”

“I don’t even know why you care.”

“That’s because you didn’t ask.”

“Are we playing Twenty Questions again? I don’t think it ended very well last time.”

He laughed and drank the remainder of his beer.

Chapter Five

GO FOR A ride with me.”

I glanced up at him, shocked.

“On my bike. Let’s ride around the city. You can give me the tour.”

The idea sent my stomach into somersaults. “I don’t think so.” I tucked the loose pieces of my hair behind my ear as I shook my head.

“Why not?” He grinned that wicked smile of his, and my eyes became glued to his pouty lips. He leaned over and lowered his voice. “What have you got to lose?”

Everything. I could lose everything. “I don’t even know you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why are you wasting your time here talking to me?”

“You think you’re a waste of time?”

“I think a guy like you has better things to do.”

“Better things to do than you, sweetheart?” He winked, and my skin immediately heated and for once I had no idea what to say. “You got a pen?”

“Yeah.” I grabbed the pen from my apron and slid it across the table to him, confused. He slipped his napkin in front of him and began to write. “What are you doing?” My curiosity was getting the best of me.

“Making a note of this. I’d imagine it isn’t often a girl like you is speechless.” He laughed as I grabbed the napkin and crumpled it into a ball, throwing it at him. He playfully dodged it.

I glanced up at the clock. We would be closing in a few minutes, and all of my side work had been completed this morning before my shift. My mom and Jax would most likely be passed out cold. They wouldn’t even notice I was gone. I wasn’t anxious to see Jax after his threat earlier, anyway. I jumped up from the table and made my way to the kitchen.

“Where ya going? I was only playing!” Tucker called after me.

I smiled to myself. “I’m taking off, Larry.” I untied my apron and tossed it on the counter. He gave me a curious look, but I ignored him and headed back into the dining area. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Tucker grinned from ear to ear. He hopped up and placed his hand on the small of my back as we made our way out into the parking lot. “You know I don’t back down from a challenge.”

I was exhausted from the tense day, but my adrenaline was racing now with the tingle from his fingers on my spine. We reached his bike and I took a moment to look it over. I had never been on one before, and I suddenly became afraid.

Tucker let out a small chuckle and held out his spare helmet to me. “It’ll be fine, I promise. I won’t let you get hurt.”

I took the helmet and slid it over my head. Many people had made promises to me in the past and I knew better than to ever take them seriously, but for some reason I believed Tucker. He went out of his way to make me safe, keep me protected, even when he couldn’t do it in person, and that had to count for something.

He slipped his leg over the bike and stood it upright, knocking back the kickstand with his boot. “Come on.” He slipped his helmet onto his head and held out his hand for me.

Electricity shot through the tips of my fingers as they connected with his. I honestly couldn’t remember ever getting this feeling with Jax, even when things weren’t so bad. It was both frightening and incredibly exciting. I lifted my leg over the back of the giant black machine and settled my body against his. It was awkward being so close to someone I didn’t know. “Where do I hold on?”

He reached back and grabbed my hands, wrapping them around his waist. “Hold on to me, sweetheart.” He rubbed my hand, then quickly went back to the handlebars. The bike roared to life, but I hardly heard it over the sound of my heart thumping in my ears. His body was rock hard under my fingers, and I could feel the ridges of his stomach muscles as they pulled and tensed under my fingertips.

We rode a few miles into the city under the cloak of darkness. Everything was so much more beautiful at night. The stores and restaurants were lit with softly glowing signs. We traveled up Interstate 95 for about twenty minutes, but it didn’t feel long enough. I wasn’t ready to give up my seat on the back of Tucker’s bike, even if it was only mine for the night.

I guided him down River Street. The bike jumped against the cobblestones of the road, and we had to slow to nearly walking speed to keep from rattling our brains.

River Street is a popular tourist spot during the day, but at night it comes alive with the locals out to have some fun. Music overflowed into the street along with the people who were drinking and having a good time. Vendors line up outside the shops to sell their homemade crafts and paintings.

“Let’s grab a drink,” he called over his shoulder as he pulled the bike to the designated parking lot along the river. I pulled off my helmet and yanked off the tie on my hair, shaking it free to cascade down my back. What was I thinking, going out in my work clothes? My eyes scanned the crowd of women wearing miniskirts and cutoff shorts to help fight off the heat on this balmy night.

Tucker took the helmet from my hand and secured it to the back of his bike while he watched me play with my hair.

“I’m not really dressed for this.” I looked down at my black polo shirt and black slacks. I looked horrible.

Tucker’s eyes scanned the storefronts. “There!” He pointed to one of the little shops along the river. A red canopy hung over the door. In thick black cursive was written SCARLETT’S. He grabbed my hand and pulled me across the street. The shop owner was just taking their dress racks inside to close for the evening.

“Wait! One second! We need a dress.” He grinned his impossibly sexy smile and pulled me past her. I gave her an apologetic grin as we slipped inside the store, but she was busy drooling over Tucker. He seemed to have that effect on everyone. The store was small and crammed with racks of bohemian-style dresses and cases of jewelry. The walls were stone and painted a beautiful gold.

Tucker began leafing through the dresses on the racks, finally selecting one that he handed over to me. “Try this one.”

“That’s not a dress, it’s a scarf.” I glared at him.

He smiled and stuck it back on the rack, flipping through a few more. “How about this?”

I held the dress to my body. It was beautiful and definitely not my style. Not that I had a style. I wore hand-me-downs and thrift-store finds. This was an elegant, cream-colored garment decorated with pale purple flowers. The halter dress reminded me of Marilyn Monroe.

“I can’t afford this.” I made a face at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll buy it, just try it on.”

I hesitated, suddenly bristling at his unsolicited generosity. What did he want from me? Did he think of me as a charity case? I didn’t need his handouts. I was doing just fine on my own. I began to place the dress back in his hands. I didn’t need or want someone to swoop in and rescue me from my life. Everything comes with a price, and he would surely want something from me I was not willing to give.

“No, it’s fine . . . this really isn’t my style—”

“Cass. Please just try on the dress. I’m not trying anything here, I just really think it will look beautiful on you. And you . . . you deserve to wear something as stunning as you are tonight, sweetheart.”

I searched his face, trying to figure this guy out.

His fingers wrapped around my hand that was holding the dress as he sighed. “I know you don’t want anyone to help you.” He laughed. “You’re stubborn like I am, but I’ll win this argument.”

I made a face at him, frustrated that he was able to read me so well. I was usually so good at guarding myself. But I wasn’t willing to relent yet. I held his gaze, silently willing him to say more.

“Fine.” He cleared his throat. “I know what it’s like, Cass, to feel like nobody gives a shit about you. I also know that sometimes we need someone else to make us feel like we’re worth something . . . to make us feel special, you know?”

“I’m not.”

Tucker cocked his head to the side, a small, nervous smile playing on his lips. He paused before continuing, “When I was little, my parents were always too busy for me. They were more concerned about chasing their next high than whether or not their son had learned his alphabet or even taken his first steps.” His gaze dropped to our joined hands. I gave him a reassuring squeeze so he would continue. “I was so desperate to have someone notice me, to show me I was important to them, that I spent my fourth birthday in a hospital.” His eyes flicked to mine, gauging my response.

“What happened?” I held my breath as I waited to hear the rest of his story.

“You remember the cartoon Underdog?”

I nodded.

“Well, I was determined to teach myself to fly like him. I figured if I could fly, I could be a superhero and save my family. Only it turns out I couldn’t, and the fall from a tree in our backyard broke my leg.”

“Oh my God.” I covered my mouth with my free hand.

“The worst part was not being found for over an hour.”

“I’m so sorry, Tucker.”

“Don’t be. The point is, you can’t always fix things on your own. Sometimes you need someone to help you. Sometimes we just need to be noticed. I couldn’t fly but I don’t regret trying. How would I know I couldn’t if I didn’t at least try? Besides, if it weren’t for that, I may have spent the rest of my childhood with them. I was removed from the house and spent a few years being sent to different foster homes until I ended up with Dorris. It was worth it in the end.” He smiled, his eyes still downcast. “Sometimes you have to fall before you can fly . . . and sometimes you need someone to catch you.” He looked up. “Even you, Cass.”

He was right. I never tried to step outside my life and make things better. I never took a chance. He was also right about winning this argument. How could I refuse to try on the dress now?

“You win.” I glanced around the store and found a small area curtained off in the far right corner of the shop. I dashed for it as Tucker grabbed a pair of sandals. I slipped off my clothes and pulled the dress over my head. There was no mirror, so I looked down at myself, trying to see if it looked okay.

“Come on, Cass. I’m dying out here.”

I took a deep breath, pulled back the curtain, and stepped out into the main area. Tucker’s eyes lit up and he smiled, but as he looked me over, his expression soon turned dark.

I couldn’t keep from pouting. Did I look that bad? Was his effort to transform this white-trash waitress into a swan that much of a failure? He stepped closer, and I self-consciously turned to go back into the changing area. He grabbed my arm gently before I could enter. I looked down at his hand and realized what had upset him. The dark purple bruises wrapped around my arm like a barbaric tattoo. My hand shot up to cover the area. Tucker clenched his jaw in anger.

He turned to a rack behind him, grabbed a light purple cardigan, and handed it to me. I gave him a small smile as I slipped it off the hanger and slid it on.