Page 51 of Chasing the Puck

“Needed a break?” I ask.

Tuck turns to me, and the smile that carves across his face makes my stomach flutter. His blue eyes light up, like he’s glad to see me.

It hits me that his eyes always light up like that. Every time his gaze settles on me. Like he’s truly, genuinely happy every time he sees me.

“Actually,” he drawls, “I just got back from a mission.”

I hitch an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“A very important, secret mission.”

“I’m afraid to ask.” I try to deadpan, but I can’t stop from grinning.

“I need a drum roll for this.”

I purse my lips, staring at him bemused.

He points to my hands resting on the stone railing. “Drum roll, Lockley,” he commands.

I huff a laugh, but I oblige. I pat the flats of my palms against the cold stone, gradually picking up my pace, until …

“Ta-dah!” Tuck exclaims, pulling two packets of Pretzel M&M’s from his pockets.

I gasp, greedily snatching one for myself.

He laughs. “That food really sucked, didn’t it?”

“I’ll say,” I agree. “Where’d you find these?”

“I wandered around the hotel checking vending machines. No luck there. Then I crossed the street and found a convenience store that sold them.”

My chest squeezes. He went wandering around in the cold just to buy a snack he knows I like?

“Oh, wait,” Tuck suddenly says, as if realizing something. “We have to do this right.”

He glances inside through the windows. He holds up his index finger as if to say he’ll be right back before dashing in. Then, about twenty seconds later, he returns with two champagne flutes.

He hands me one. We clink them together, and I don’t even fight the smile as I stand here on this heated balcony on a crisp winter night, drinking fancy champagne and eating Pretzel M&M’s with Tuck McCoy.

“The flavor of the champagne really complements the pretzel, doesn’t it?” Tuck says, holding his glass in front of him and swishing it around like a sommelier.

“Oh, yeah,” I laugh. “It’s a very complex and sophisticated flavor profile.”

It’s then that I realize something that should worry me—but it doesn’t.

I’m glad Tuck is here.

22

TUCK

While Olivia is getting changed and washing her makeup off in the bathroom, I allow myself a taste of this mattress she was raving about.

Fuck, this bed is nice. Soft, but not too soft. The comforter is fluffy and luxurious. I let out a groan as I imagine how the hard, carpeted floor is going to feel compared to this.

I’m not looking forward to it, not with how my back’s been feeling all day, but there’s no alternative.

It’s not that I wouldn’t love to spend a night in bed with Olivia. Even if nothing happened. Even if we didn’t even touch. It’s an experience that I’d be fisting my cock to for months to come.

---