Is he here? My heart beats harder as I think about all the relationships I’ve built while I’ve been in this town. In the past four weeks, I’ve been welcomed into the fold, like part of a family. I don’t want to leave them. I like it here.
My thoughts go to the man who has been front and center in my mind for weeks, even before he showed me the warm, squishy parts of himself. Before I fell for him.
I have fallen for him. Every time I’m around him, feeling his warmth, his kisses, his protection, I become more attached to him. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve stopped thinking about my next move and started wondering when I’ll see him next, feel him next.
That’s where I messed up. I let my heart distract me from the reason I’m here. With shaking hands, I set my laptop on the bench and grab my duffel from under the bed. I’ll just have to rent a car, I can come back for mine when it’s repaired.
My heart sinks in my chest when I think about leaving my only belongings in the world behind, but I can’t wait anymore. IfMattdoesknow where I am, I can’t just sit here on my thumbs waiting for whatever stunt he’ll pull next.
What I have in this room, my meager belongings, will easily fit into my duffel and my backpack, and I dump all my clothes from the dresser onto the bed to fold them.
So many emotions are swirling inside me right now. I don’t want to leave Tuck, he’s become a light in the dark tunnel of my life, but it’s not fair to him that I’m just a bundle of drama and bullshit with a big pretty bow.
After stuffing folded clothes into my duffel, I step into the bathroom to grab toiletries off the counter. At this point, I’m just running on fear, shock, and paranoia after reading the email. My thoughts are spinning, my emotions are crashing like waves, and my anxiety is making my head spin and my arms and hands tingle.
Out of frustration, I toss my bottle of foundation into the sink. The plastic cap pops off and flies across the room, and the glass bottle clatters on the marble a few times before it comes to a stop in the basin. Taking a deep breath, I lean forward and set my palms on the counter, letting my head hang as I squeeze my eyes to stop the tears of anger that want to fall.
Before I finish my first deep breath, I hear a sharp knock on my door and Tuck’s deep voice. “Nora, are you okay?”
My heart beats even harder, and I suck in a deep inhale through my nose to stop the sting of tears. I was looking forward to our date tonight, a normal girl going on a date with a normal guy. But I’m not normal, am I?
In manuscripts and books I’ve read, there is a turning point in life when a character walks blindly into a situation that changes the trajectory of their life so substantially, for the worst, that it lives deeply in their minds and hearts as the worst decision of their lives.
The night I met Matt was the turning point for me. He sat down across from me in that little coffee shop as I was studying for an exam, and when I looked up, his smile made me forget my stress. His whiskey-brown eyes were focused on me like I was the only woman in the world.
If I had known he was going to stomp on my heart and ruin my life, I would have collected my books and walked away right then. I’ve wondered many times what life would have been like had that moment in time been different.
All the work that Kinley and Allison went through to make me look nice is all for nothing. I can’t go out now, not if Matt might be out there somewhere watching or waiting.
Realizing that I’m just stalling the inevitable, I know I just have to leave. Tuck’s voice pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts through the door.
“Nora, sugar, if you don’t open this door, I’ll have to break it down, and Allison will be pissed at me.”
The concern in his calm voice is noticeable, and I hurry to the door to pull it open. Standing there is the most handsome man. His dark jeans are pressed into a sharp line up the front of both legs, and the royal blue button-up is also pressed and wrinkle-free. He’s rolled the sleeves up his muscular forearms to expose the veins running like rivers under his tan skin.
His beard is trimmed short, accentuating the sharpness of his jaw, and he’s wearing a black cowboy hat that I’ve not seen him wear before. His gaze is crawling up my body, heavy with something that is definitely not just approval, his eyes wide.
A mumbled, “Christ,” passes his lips before his eyes meet mine.
In one hand is a bouquet of red roses wrapped in pretty lace cellophane. No one’s ever bought me roses before, and my heart swells with happiness. His cologne mixed with the soft scent of the roses wraps around me.
In his other hand is a long box, I think the picture on the side is of a vase. If I weren’t so panicked right now, I would recognize the sweet gesture. He bought me a vase for the flowers, knowing I wouldn’t have one.
He looks so good. And Sexy. Intense guilt flushes my chest, neck and face.
Tilting his head a little, his gaze moves over my face before he says, “You okay?”
24
TUCKER
ONE HOURearlier
I’ve never bought a woman roses before. I don’t even know if Nora likes roses, but tradition dictates that I bring flowers, and roses are the flower of love, and the best. She’ll only get the best from me.
My olfactory is begging me to get away from the overwhelming smell of flowers and pollen that aggressively enveloped me as soon as I walked into the cramped flower shop. Shiny things, smelly things, and colors cover every wall and are obnoxiously showy, to say the least.
The clerk hands me the bright red bouquet in the white lacy cellophane and my credit card. As I turn to leave, I wonder if I need to get something to put them in, so I turn back to the clerk.
