Storms of Passion (11 page)

Beer or hard liquor? What a choice. Despite what the waitress said about the arm twisting, and Vivian was sure she could do it, she didn’t have the nerve to even ponder the wrath of Dan if she asked for a margarita. Contrary to her friendly wink, Vivian was sure this waitress wouldn’t think twice about tossing her out on her ass if she ordered a virgin Caesar.

“Whiskey, please. Tall glass with Ginger Ale. Thanks.” Vivian smiled and the woman nodded as she stalked away, her too short shirt hugging her older curvy form.

Vivian gazed out the window, avoiding her own reflection. A quick glance revealed a face that had the appearance of someone caged. Caught in a net of her own design. She waited for her drink, desperate for something to do with her hands. She really hadn’t thought this through very well. Vivian had been so frustrated by Tuck’s kiss all she wanted was to get out of the close confines of her room. Space, she had needed space.

Where did Tuck learn to kiss like that? Self-proclaimed computer geeks are not suppose to even know how to kiss, let alone melt a woman in the most perfect of settings, on a beach with a breeze tickling and a picnic at their feet. Who did he think he was?

“Shall I start a tab for you, hon?” Platinum was back with the drink in hand. “It’ll get busy in here shortly so best to do it now before we’re swamped.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Friday nights the Tavern gets hopping with some local music and everyone comes by. Don’t let the local color fool ya.” She nodded at the men still seated at the bar who every once and awhile cast glances toward Vivian. “They just look hard. They’re dandies underneath.”

Vivian leaned to glance around the woman. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I’m Vivian, by the way.”

Pointing to her nametag housed on a sliver of fabric just above the swell of left breast, she said. “Margie. Nice to meet you.” As Margie’s face opened with a winning smile, Vivian noted how the genuine smile took years off her face. “You sit back and relax. You’ll love the music. Everyone does.”

“Okay.” Vivian heard more conviction from her voice than she actually there would be.

Try as she might to drink the tall glass of liquor slowly, she downed it. The whiskey was so smooth. The amber liquid slid down her throat like warm honey, tickling her toes from the inside and making her feel fuzzy.

“You should water this down for me,” Vivian suggested when Margie brought glass number three to the table.

“Don’t worry. Enjoy this one. You’ll be lucky to get another now that the crowd is arriving.” Margie pointed over her shoulder at the band setting up in the corner.

Just as the barmaid predicted, the pub filled fast. From the moment the band struck their first note, the party was on. Dancing, laughing, shouting, and carousing erupted in the bar. Vivian soaked it in, unnoticed for once, as she sat in her corner, enjoying the evening and nursing her drink. The cover songs were dispersed with the band’s originals and the crowd loved them. As drink number four arrived, Vivian sang along, letting the atmosphere engulf her.

She sat straighter, trying to focus her slightly blurred vision. She loved the sound of an acoustic guitar. The strumming of the melody melted her.
One of my all-time favorites
. Before this song, Vivian didn’t bother to check out the band. She had stayed occupied with people watching, the antics of the locals providing ample amusement. But with one of her favorite songs being plucked, old style, just the way she imagined the original artist playing, she had to see who had such magic fingers.

She wandered through the crowd, toward the stage. Her breath caught in her throat. It couldn’t be?
Tuck?
His eyes were closed, head slightly bent forward over the instrument as his magic fingers created harmony. Those same fingers that splayed across her cheeks and held her head as his lips brushed across hers earlier that day.

“Sing it, Tuck.” A petite girl with blonde hair piled high on her head swayed in front of the stage.

Not to be out done, a rambunctious red head in platforms, wearing a tiny mini skirt and tube top yelled. “Sing it for me, Tuck.”

A momentary pang of loneliness assaulted her, realizing everyone here knew Tuck. But then of course they would. This was his home. They likely all grew up together. Vivian was the stranger. He had made her feel so special this afternoon she had forgotten she was the odd one out.

More of the crowd chimed in. “Ya, sing it Tuck!”

With a voice needing no reinforcement, Tuck complied. His head lifted slightly to acknowledge the crowd, and then he closed those beautiful sea-faring eyes and started to sing. Vivian followed suit, swept away in the story of the song.

She was lost in the midst of the lyrics, back on Tuck’s motorcycle, gliding along the highway, just the two of them. As the song progressed, so did her imagination with his lips on hers, and the warmth of his hands on her body. Drink in her hand, she swayed to the rhythm of his song, absorbed in the moment. When he ended to a ruckus of applause, he opened his eyes. Like a magnet, eyes, the color of stormy skies, focused on Vivian. Her pulse quickened in anticipation as though they were the only two in the bar. He smiled, and in her mind, reinforced her crazy notion that he truly had sung the song just for her.

The crowd cheered and begged for more.

A hand touched Vivian’s arm, forcing her back to earth. “You came after all,” Marston said. “What’d ya think?”

“Oh, I like it,” Vivian said as the band began a faster song.

Another hand shot out to hers and pulled her toward the dance floor. “You’re not from around here.” A beefy man, who still held her hand, started to bustle and shift his weight in some sort of dance move only he was privy to. Ham-hock hands encircled her waist, preventing her from moving in the other direction. “Finish up your drink and we’ll dance.”

Not knowing what else to do with the drink, Vivian did as she was bid and swallowed the remaining whiskey in the half empty glass. She shimmied to set the empty glass on the closest table and was then led back to the dance floor. Another song she knew started. Before she knew what was going on, she had another drink and a new dance partner. Each face blended, and in a small corner of her mind, it was time to call it a night and head out, but she had never had so much fun.

With a fuzzy brain, her limbs turned to liquid. She moved to the music like she had always wanted to dance—free of her cumbersome inhibitions.

Her mind danced as she swayed to a slow song with some fellow holding her drink while she sang along.
If only Tuck would play that guitar again. So sweet
.

“That’s probably enough for tonight,” said a thick voice in her ear. Warm fingers twisted around her wrist, and an arm folded over her shoulder as she swayed.

Lifting her head, she glanced around the near dark room. “T…Tuck?” she slurred, hearing his voice, but his face wouldn’t come into view, no matter how hard she tried to focus. “I was just thinking of you. Y…you play beautifully. P…play it…again. Play another one for m…me.”

“Ya, play it again, Sam.” Her dance partner chimed in sarcastically with a high pitched fake voice causing Vivian to giggle.

“No, his name is n…not S…Sam,” Her words slurred. “Tuck. Say it with with with me…Tu…ck.”

Moving faster than she could process and slower than she wanted, Vivian vaguely processed what happened next. Raised voices, and the sound of a table crashing to the floor, pierced her ears. Margie led her to the door, at least she thought it was Margie.

“You have no head for the booze,” Margie said, guiding Vivian to a bench outside. “I thought anyone who orders a whiskey and Ginger Ale knows what it does. Live and learn, as they say. We’ll let the boys clear their heads while we take some air, shall we.”

“O…hh.” Vivian hiccupped. “O…hh…kay.”

“You sit here and I’ll send Tuck out when he’s done.”

“Dun what?” Vivian blinked to clear her vision.

Margie laughed, cupped Vivian’s shoulder affectionately and went back inside.

Whatever Tuck was doing seemed to take forever. “S…so tired.” Vivian laid her head on the bench to rest. She giggled as she watched the stars dance overhead.

Of a sudden, time sped up again. It seemed like a only a minute after she laid her head down, just getting comfortable on the hard bench, when a low voice echoed in her brain. “My God, really! I can’t believe this. What were you thinking?” Tuck’s exasperated out-burst hurt her head.

“That you, Tuck?” Vivian smiled. “I…had so…much fun.”

“How the hell am I going to get you back into Ethel’s without all the tongues wagging? She’s the biggest gossip in this town.” He chastised her as he pulled her off the bench and positioned her body in the direction of the Inn.

She moved, but couldn’t feel her feet as they walked. Tuck’s arm wrapped around her waist, his hand molded to her hip, holding her steady and warming her fuzzy brain. She relished the heat of his arm around her. Vivian squirmed to glance at him, noticing he wasn’t wearing his glasses and had an icepack held to his forehead.

“Wh…what, happened to you…you?”

A hard face glared at her in the gloom from the street lamp. “Nothing. Just don’t say a word.” His apparent anger penetrated her muzzled brain.

Vivian stopped, swaying slightly, pulling out of his grip to put her hands on her hips. “Listen here, you! Don’t tell me what to do. You’re no boss of me.”

Legs spread, Tuck removed the towel and icepack from his head. He glanced down as he carefully folded the towel, rewrapping the icepack, and again laid it against his temple. With an audible breath, only then did his hard eyes to meet hers. “I’ll tell you what to do and rightly so. What were you thinking? You come to a small town and think nothing can happen to you? Everything’s so safe and cozy because it’s picturesque?” His breathing was labored. “You let some guy paw you all night and think he won’t have any expectations? I don’t know where you come from, but the girl I met this afternoon wouldn’t be that stupid.”

Vivian wobbled, but kept her feet in place, spread and preparing for combat. “Stupid? Girl!” She took a halting step in his direction, trying not to trip. “I’m no girl and I’m not stupid. I run my own business. I have a good career. I…”

“Stupid and naïve is what you are!” Tuck interrupted, pointing to his swollen eye. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain the shiner tomorrow. I haven’t had a black eye since Nate and I were in high school. Damn!” He stomped his foot in the dirt. “Man! I just can’t believe this.”

She moved forward, willing her body to comply. “Where did ya get the shiner?”

Tuck closed the distance between them, returning his arm around her waist. “Ohmigod.” Huffing, he shook his head. “Never mind.”

****

Removing the icepack and towel from his face, he tossed them in a trash can, before bracing his feet and draping her left arm over his shoulders. Without another word, he propelled her up the street toward the bed and breakfast. When they got to the front gate, he stopped and let her go. “I think you’ll be fine from here. Just keep quiet and maybe, just maybe, Ethel won’t wake up. Though I doubt she’s even asleep knowing you’re out.”

He shook his head as Vivian swayed from side to side as she started up the path. Then she turned and staggered back toward him. If he had been in a better mood, he would have laughed at her windup. As she strove to fit her hand on her hip to maintain her balance, he pinched his lips together to contain his hilarity.

“Y…you know, you’re not the same guy who kissed me today and played guitar,” she began. “Th…that guy was, wow! You on the other hand, you suck!” With all the poise of frog, she turned with a huff. Thankfully, she kept her comments to herself on the rest of the walk home.

A trickle of blood ran down his cheek. He reached in his back pocket to retrieve his handkerchief and held it to his head.

Vivian continued to wobble and sway as though she were balancing a hula-hoop. An involuntary snicker escaped him.

She turned around, almost falling into the bushes. “What?” She frowned.

Really?
It was hard to stay mad at someone who looked so adorable when she was drunk. Her glazed eyes reflected the moonlight as she tapped her foot, waiting expectantly for his answer.

He shoved his handkerchief in his pocket and moved toward the gated path, catching Vivian before she fell. Clamping her body tight to his, he turned her around, one hand bracing her neck and the other at the small of her back. Without further thought to his actions, he bent and fastened his lips to hers.

She stiffened for a brief second and then wrapped her arms around his neck, fitting her body to his. Her mouth yielded to his onslaught, raging his emotions. He tasted the slight iron of blood mixed with her sweetened whiskey when she bit his lip. He broke the kiss, only pulling back marginally from her to stare deep into her eyes.

Beyond the haze of desire, he claimed her mouth again, hard and punishing, to make an impression.

Her arms twined tighter around his neck, drawing him closer still. Her tongue dueled with his as he pressed closer, showing her his need. His breath was ragged as he skimmed her throat and he reveled in her desire as she threw her head back, her limbs liquid to his touch. As her hands splayed across his pecks, Tuck moved his hands lower to squeeze her backside. Unwilling to relinquish control, his lips returned to hers, his tongue penetrated her mouth in an all out assault. It was a battle of passion, of which they were well matched.

Heart pounding, his lower body stiffened with the need to possess her. She leaned her head back, welcoming his touch. His hand roamed her back. He marveled how soft and desirous she was in all the right places.

“Yes.” Her whisper filled his ear. “Absolutely, yes.”

He moved his hands to her hips, pressing his firm member to her ensure she understood the depth of his arousal.

She took his earlobe between her teeth, flicking it with her tongue. He moaned as she rubbed against him in that ageless rhythmic motion of agreement between lovers.

A sudden whistle rang out from the trees, followed by, “You go Tuck! You show her how the local boys do it!”