Tucker
Do you save a lot of time only using one letter?
Me
Fuck YOU.
I’m not sure what I was thinking when I decided on this project.
I haven’t slept in two nights, and I’ve spent every minute of sunlight at the ranch or the bar. Trying like hell to stay off Barlow Drive, and away from the temptation living next door to me.
I call Blair that because after I stupidly showed up at her house with a first aid kit, everything shifted. My brain spiraled, and thoughts I never wanted to have again in my life came back with a vengeance.
I started thinking about a relationship.
Something I swore I would never have again in my life.
When insomnia struck the first night, I found myself with my head face down, screaming into the pillow out of frustration. All because I put my hands where they don’t belong.
I put my hands onher.
And it sparked something I had buried so deep down that it would never see the light of day again. I felt the electricity through my palm when it made contact with her bare leg, shooting through every part of me. And I didn’t want to leave.
Tucker walking through the front door of the General Store forces me to stuff these thoughts back down.
“Are you in a better mood?” Tucker asks immediately.
“Who said I was in a bad mood?”
“You always are. And your profanities via text message almost had me putting on body armor for this project, just in case you try to kill me,” he jokes.
“Hysterical,” I deadpan.
“What in the world are we doing now? Isn’t your house done?”
I don’t answer him but turn around and head for thehardware side of the store. I meet with the clerk, who sets me up with slabs of pressure-treated wood. I built the deck myself years ago, so I already know it has a solid base. But I went cheap on the wood, which clearly has deteriorated over time.
Once I’m ready to head to the checkout, I scan the area and can’t find Tucker anywhere.
“Tucker,” I shout.
“Right here,” he says, hustling to the register with an armful of snacks.
I narrow my eyes. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“What? I get hungry on the job site.” He shrugs. “I got you some trail mix.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want trail mix.”
“You will, Griff. I’m confident in knowing what your stomach needs.”
I stare at him unblinkingly before looking back at the clerk behind the counter. “I guess you can add this mess to the total.”
The clerk laughs before lifting the bag of seasoned pretzel twists. “Good choice here,” he says to Tucker.
“Right? I can fuck up some pretzel twists,” Tucker says.
I shake my head. I can’t believe the one person I trust to help me finish this project before the sun sets today is the one person who loves to waste my time over snacks.
