Waking Up (8 page)

“Not really.  Well… I guess it depends on the camera and who’s behind it.  Some crews I’ve worked with have put me right at ease and others I can never get comfortable with.  Then, there’s the paparazzi.  I’ll never get used to them.  Damn bloodsuckers.”  Although I find his description of them ironic since he plays a vampire on TV, I don’t chuckle or break a smile at all.  I can tell that these people have done a number on him and he’s still feeling the effects.  Guess he will always feel the effect because he deals with them on a daily basis in his world.  Must suck.

“I meant it earlier when I said I don’t read the tabloids.  I don’t think it’s right the way stars are hounded.  You should be free to live your lives.”  I hope he can tell I’m sincere.  “Looks like you’re about done with your chore.  Thanks for doing that.  You may want to get out of my way for a little bit while I throw all of this together.  I can get a little crazy as I whip around here.”  I try to smile and joke it off, but I’ve been told I’m scary and mean when people get in my way.

“You sure you don’t want me to peel the eggs for you?  I can chop them up, too.”  Damn.  He really wants to help.  I still have desserts to make and he is totally slowing me down, but my mom taught me to be a great hostess so I know I’m going to let him feel good by helping.  Double damn.  I’m not getting any reading time in today.  

“If you don’t mind then yeah, you can peel the eggs and chop them for me.  Don’t make the pieces too small.  They’re for the potato salad.  Warrants
Sometimes She Cries
comes on and before I can catch myself, I say, “Isn’t that the truth?”

“What’s that?” Tucker asks me.  Luckily his back is to me and I hadn’t spoken loudly.  I don’t think he heard me.  But this song is true.  I do cry.  When I’m alone at night and when I feel weak.  Just seems that this station is out to wreck me today.

“Ahh.  I said there’s going to be a lot of food.  Hope you’re going to bring your appetite tonight.”  God, I hope he buys what I just said.

“I was going to ask you about that.”  Busted.  “If there are only six people coming, even with you and me, why are you making so much food?”

Giggling, I simply say, “You’ll understand when they all get here.”  I should explain, but the look of utter confusion on his face is priceless and I want him to see why I make all this food because truly what I’m making should feed a small army.  Shaking his head, he turns his back and continues his task.  I finish whipping together the pasta salad and coleslaw while I wait for him to finish the eggs.  Throwing them in the refrigerator, I see he’s just about done so I check the meats in the smoker.  

When I walk back in, Tucker’s demeanor is different.  He seems nervous… maybe?  Hesitant.  I’m not sure what the vibe is coming off from him, but it’s making me nervous.

“I finished your eggs.”

“I see that.  Thanks.  I can turn the music off so you can watch TV while I whip this up.  I have to start on the desserts after this.”  He really looks like he has something to say so I stand there, waiting.

“No.  No, don’t do that.  I like the music and I like watching you in the kitchen.”  He likes watching me in the kitchen.  I know I’m blushing again.  “Can I… uh… can I ask a favor of you?”

The tone of his voice scares me a little.  “I think so,” I say with a tentative smile.

Chuckling, he asks, “Is there any chance I could throw my clothes in your washer?  I’m about to run out of clean stuff to wear and the idea of going to a Laundromat or the store to buy more clothes is less than appealing to me.  Having people recognize me always ends badly.  I understand if that is overstepping a boundary.  You can say n–.”

“Tucker, stop.  I don’t mind if you need to wash your clothes.  Seriously, you were worried about asking me that?  You carried in my truckload of groceries.  You cut up my veggies, peeled and chopped my eggs, and you’re keeping my friend from murdering me.  I think you earned the right to my laundry room.”  I’m trying to keep the teasing in my voice because I can see how embarrassing it was for him to ask me.  Relief flows off him at my okay.  “Go get your clothes from your truck and I’ll show you where the washer and dryer are.”

Heading out the door to grab whatever he needs, I can’t help but admire his ass.  I’ll be damned if you can’t bounce quarters off that thing.  It looks that firm.  When Whitesnake’s
Here I Go Again
comes blasting into my ears I give a little yip of happiness.  Finally, a song I can just enjoy.  Cleaning up the dishes from my salad making, I’m dancing around when Tucker comes back in.  In such a good mood over the song, I don’t care that he sees me shaking my ass around and swinging my hair back and forth singing to the radio.  Who doesn’t sing along to this song?

“Great song,” he says dropping his duffel bag at his feet.  It saddens my heart to see he’s been living out of a duffel bag.  My new plan seems better by the minute.  I just need to work up the nerve to talk to him about it.  Rinsing off the last of the dishes, I place it on the counter to dry and motion for him to follow me.  For a reason I don’t understand, this brings a big smile to his face.  He picks up his bag and starts following me.

In the laundry room, I get him all set up with what he needs to wash his clothes.  I don’t want to seem like I’m prying, trying to see what kind of underwear he wears even though I’m dying to know, so I  start to head back to the kitchen.  His hand on my shoulder stops me.  Peering over my shoulder at him, I shudder at the sadness on his face.  “Adriana, are you sure it will be okay with your friends that I’m here?  I mean, do I have to worry that it will be plastered all over Facebook or Twitter later?  I took off from Vancouver because I didn’t want to be hounded by the paparazzi when everyone finds out Victoria and I split.  I don’t want anyone to know where I am.  Do I need to worry about that tonight?”

My heart is pounding so hard I think he can surely hear it.  The intensity with which he’s staring at me feels like it should burn holes straight through me, but I have to assure him he’s safe here.  No one will find him.  I just have to find my voice in a throat suddenly gone dry.

Trying desperately to clear my throat and feeling like I’m choking, I turn around to completely face him.  “Tucker, I promise you that my friends are great people.  They would never put anything on Facebook or Twitter if I told them you don’t want them to.  They respect other people’s privacy.  I can’t say they won’t ask to get a picture with you.  They are human, after all.  But, if you are worried about it, you don’t have to stay.  You don’t know me and don’t have to take my word for it.  I don’t want to put you in an awkward situation.”  Although I mean every word I said, I’m hoping he’ll say he wants to stay.  I want more time with him.  Even if it’s wrong to feel this way.

“I don’t know why, but I trust you when you say that your friends won’t turn me over to the social media sites and I don’t see you being the type.  Plus, I’m really looking forward to the food you’ve been cooking.  My mouth has been watering all morning.  Actually, I’m getting hungry again.  Can I confess something and hopefully not sound like a whine-ass?” he asks, lightly chuckling.  I like when he chuckles and laughs. It rumbles in his chest.  I would love to touch his chest when he’s making that sound.  See if I can feel the noise.

“Sure.”  I’m a little breathless when I answer.  I’m not sure what he could confess, but I’m on pins and needles waiting.

“I’m tired of hiding in my truck and eating fast food because of who might recognize me.  I’m tired of being famous.  I want to go places and be anonymous.  That probably sounds stupid, doesn’t it?  So many people would kill to be in my shoes and here I stand, pissing and whining about it.”

I don’t think it sounds stupid at all.  It made me realize this is my moment.  He just set my plan in motion for me.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to a live without looking over your shoulder, Tucker.  A life where you can walk out your door with no fear of a camera in your face.  Where you can go on vacations, dinners, dates, and not worry it will end up in the tabloids.  I don’t think it’s stupid at all.”  I really don’t and I want him to know that.  Rubbing my hand on his arm, I hope that makes my point.

Damn, this man is hard.  Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm.

“Thank you for understanding.”  Looking at my hand, I worry that I overstepped my bounds.  Maybe he’s thinking that I’m getting a little too touchy-feely so I drop my hand to my side and decide it’s now or never.

“Uh, Tucker, I… uh… was thinking and… um, I’m not sure when you have to go back to Vancouver for taping or where you were planning to go till then, but uh… uh… um…”  Shit.  This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.  He’s looking at me with those eyes.  Those sexy as fuck blue eyes.  I can’t think and I’ve forgotten how I wanted to say this.  I’m going to sound like a crazy fan girl.

“What is it, Adriana?”  The way he says my name sounds like a caress.  I have to close my eyes for a second to regain my senses.

“Well, you see, I was listening to you talk about how you’re tired of being in your truck and eating fast food and you were worried about my friends posting pictures of you and I know how you feel about the paparazzi and I can tell you like my cooking and I have this big house with lots of empty rooms in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’re rambling.”  He grabs my hands that are flying around in front of me in nervous circles– probably to protect himself from getting punched in the eye.  “What are you trying to ask or tell me?  Just take a breath and say it.  We’ve been talking all morning with no problems.”  Then, he smiles at me.  Just like that, I can breathe again.

“I was thinking if you really need a place to stay until taping resumes, where you don’t have to worry about the paparazzi and you’re free from the bullshit, you can stay here.”  Seeing he’s about to say something, I pull one of my hands free from where he’s still holding them down and hold it up to shush him.  I need him to hear me out before he thinks I’m nuts.  “Before you think I’m some crazy fan girl trying to get you to stay at her house, I would give you the address here so you could give it to whoever you trust that wouldn’t blab your location, you can also send my picture to them, I can sign whatever you want that I will not photograph you, put information about you on the internet, talk about you on the phone or through texts, try to get into a sexual relationship with you, whatever you want.  You just seem like you need someone to give you a break.  I have this big house with plenty of rooms.  Setting one of the guest rooms up for you isn’t a problem.  Like I told you earlier, it’s been nice having someone to cook for.  I live in the sticks and I don’t think the paparazzi even knows that Epping, New Hampshire exists.  It’s up to you.”

“Are you serious right now?  You would do this for me?  You don’t even know me.”  The look of shock on his face rocks me to my core.  I’m not sure if anyone ever offers to do anything kind for him and that saddens me all over again.  I’ve been sad more times around him today than I care to think of, but it’s because I feel bad for how he’s been treated.

“Tucker, everyone deserves kindness, even from strangers.”  I couldn’t have spoken more true words.  These are words my mom had spoken many times in my life.  I truly understand them now.

“Thank you.  Yes.  And no, no contract needed.  But, seriously, where the fuck is Epping?”  Laughing as he asks this, I can’t help my next reply.

“Well, haven’t you heard? It’s the center of the universe.”  I bark out a laugh and a snort at the incredulous look he gives me.  “Just go ask anyone at our town hall.  You can even buy a bumper sticker.”  There’s that glorious belly laugh of his again.  Holding his side when he finally stops laughing and rubbing his eyes where a few tears have slid free, he looks up at me.

“This town may just be growing on me.”

I’d like to see something else growing.

                                  ********************

Watching her bend over repeatedly to load the dishwasher is a blissful hell.  I can’t keep my eyes off her and silently pray that she can’t feel me burning holes through her body.  I want to burn every inch of her delectableness into my memory before I have to get back on the road.  Just thinking about getting back on the road has my muscles tensing up.  Rolling my shoulders and neck to try to loosen them, I nearly brush my hand against her ass.  I know I’m standing too close and should probably back away, personal space and all, but this woman calls to me in a way I’m not used to.  I want to be close to her, smell her, touch her, taste her.

Catching me off guard, she rails around with one of the phoniest-saddest smiles I’ve ever seen.  Wonder what she’s so sad about.  She looks me straight in the eye.  Uh-oh.  This can’t be good.  “So, uh, I hope you liked your breakfast,” she blurts out.  Seems like she’s having a hard time catching her breath.  “I’m sure you’ll be wanting to head back to see back to see Victoria now.”  Oh, fuck no, she did not just bring that bitch up.  This morning was going so well.  I hadn’t thought of her at all since getting here.  “Thanks again for bringing my groceries in.  It was nice having company for breakfast.”

Nice. Nice? Then why the hell do you look like I just killed your puppy?  That smile isn’t fooling anyone.  What the hell is going on?  Why does it feel like she just kicked me in the nuts?  She’s still talking, but I don’t hear her.  All I know is she’s saying goodbye.  Because of Victoria.  Victoria.  She’s smiling at me.  It looks like a real one.  What’s this?  A hand shake?  Are you fucking kidding me?  My senses are completely out of whack since I meet this woman and she’s offering me a damn hand shake.  Is this because she thinks I’m with Victoria?

Victoria!

“Fuck!”  Oh, man.  Did I really just scream that out?  Ahhh, yep I did because she looks scared and she’s trying to inch away from me.  
Dammit, Tucker.  Can’t you ever keep your temper under control?  Just tell her the truth.  She told you about her husband dying.  That’s worse than some bitch fucking one of your co-stars.
  A small smile curls my lips and for reasons I can’t explain, I throw my arms out on both sides of her body, resting my hands on the counter-tops, trapping her.  Her eyes widen.  I can tell she’s scared and maybe even a little excited…