I drop everything and race to the bathroom, where I throw up for the third time today.
18
Tucker
New Year’s Eve
At quarter past two, Sabrina appears at the entrance of the club. Her brown hair is pulled up in a high ponytail and she’s thrown a long coat over her skimpy waitressing uniform. An older lady exits behind her. The two exchange words, pausing under the dimly lit entrance.
My heart starts thumping erratically. I didn’t get to kiss her tonight at midnight to ring in the New Year, but I plan on kissing her all night long to make up for that. I missed her like crazy down in Texas, and even though my mom worked me like a dog, Sabrina wasn’t far from my mind.
I fixed the railing on the porch, helped Mom repot some of the perennials she was keeping in the garage, changed five light bulbs, the batteries on all the smoke detectors, cleaned out her furnace, and ran errands from the moment I got up until the moment I lay down. I’d also met with Mr. #1 Realtor and made all the right noises, but as hard as I tried to envision Sabrina in Patterson, the image never came into focus.
“Hey, handsome,” she greets me. “I didn’t know you were coming here. I thought I was meeting up with you tomorrow.”
“Couldn’t wait,” I say truthfully. “Happy New Year, darlin’。”
“Happy New Year, Tuck.”
I gather her up against me and bury my face in her exposed neck. She quivers in response to the light caress, and the half-hard cock in my pants rises to full mast.
Reluctantly, I set her aside and pull open the car door. “We better get going or all my good intentions are going into the shitter.”
“I thought your good intentions were to fuck me into tomorrow,” she teases, referencing one of the texts I managed to shoot off to her in between the chores my mom thought up.
I nearly tackle Sabrina to the ground, but despite her light words, I can see exhaustion in every line of her gorgeous face.
Instead, I nod toward the others trudging toward their cars. “Why give these folks a free show?”
“Good point.” She twirls the key ring around her finger. “Slight problem. My stepfather is home and I don’t know if we want a repeat of that last scene.”
I can’t imagine why. The fucking perverted bastard needs a fist in his face and a boot up his ass, but I don’t want to bring him into the equation. I’ve got a whole series of events planned out and they don’t include spending a second on that dickhole.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your stepdad,” I admit, “but I figured since it’s the holidays and I didn’t get you a present, that we’d do something different. Why don’t you get in?”
She swings her keys around again and then tosses them over to me. “You drive. I’m tired.”
I catch them easily and unlock the doors. Reaching in, I push the seat back so I’m not driving with my knees around my neck.
Sabrina climbs into the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”
“Downtown.”
“Oooh, sounds like a mystery. I like mysteries.”
And I’d like to eat you up. I stare at her mouth for way too long before giving myself a mental head slap and putting the car in drive.
“How was everything? You feeling better?”
“I’m okay. It comes and goes. Nana is better, though, so I figure I just need to sweat it out a few more days and I’ll have worked the bug out of my system.”
I stretch my arm across the car and slip my hand behind her head. It’s been a long time since I’ve touched her, and I need this small connection.
“You want me to take you to a doctor?” I offer.
“Do I look that terrible?”
“No, you’re gorgeous, but you said you’ve been sick,” and you feel fragile—like brittle glass—under my hand, “And I want to take care of you.”
“No, I don’t want to go to a doctor.”
“Is it the cash? Because if you don’t want me to cover it, we could go to Hastings to the campus clinic.”
She shakes her head, a slow roll back and forth on my palm. I slide my grip lower to massage her neck, and she moans. The sound goes straight to my neglected cock.
“I’ve got insurance. I just need to rest,” she insists. “And it’s Sunday tomorrow, which means I get to spend the whole day bumming around and doing nothing.”
I decide not to push the issue. “What a coincidence. That’s my plan.”
This time when our eyes meet, her gaze is as hot as mine. I punch the gas a little harder than I intend to.