“Vicious.”
She chuckles and then says, “Ah, found it. Are you ready for this?”
“Lay it on me, babe.”
The sound of a single guitar strums through the speakers of my truck and it immediately pulls my attention just as a male, folky type voice matches up with the strum of the guitar. I’ve never heard the song and I’m kind of fucking shocked it’s on her phone. This doesn’t sound like the kind of music she listens to.
The song plays out, little strums, followed by some background piano, it all works. Fucking catchy as hell.
When it ends, Emma turns her body in her seat and says, “What did you think?”
She’s practically bouncing on her seat, waiting for my opinion.
Not answering right away, she gets frustrated and pokes my shoulder, causing me to laugh. “Fine. I liked it. You shocked me actually; I didn’t think you were going to pick something so soft. Good choice. Who was it?”
Her smile grows even wider. “Niall Horen. The song is called This Town.”
“Niall Horen. Is he new? I’ve never heard of him. I like his voice.”
“You’ve heard him before.”
“Have I? What song?”
“Any One Direction song I’ve ever played. It’s his first solo song.” The cackle that follows her confession is actually quite endearing because it’s a full-on belly laugh, as if she just caught me with my pants down, willy out, dawning a fucking duck hat on my dick.
When her laughter starts to die down a little, I say, “You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?”
She wipes her eyes. “I do actually. Tucker loves One Direction,” she singsongs.
“You couldn’t be more wrong.” I turn into Main Street in Skaneateles, New York, and start searching for parking. “I don’t like New Direction, but am I starting a little boy-crush on Niall? Well, I’m not going to deny that.”
Once again her laughter fills the cab of my truck and I can’t help but soak up the beautiful sound, loving this day already . . . even if it’s at the expense of my manhood.
***
“How cold do you think that water is?”
I have my arms wrapped around Emma’s shoulders, her back is to my chest, and I’m holding her tight as I lean my head over her shoulders and take in the expanse of Skaneateles Lake.
“Freezing, babe. There might not be snow on the ground right now, but it’s cold.”
“Like I would get a black foot if I stepped in it kind of cold?”
“Yeah, black foot-worthy for sure.”
“Only one way to find out.” She shifts and then nods her head at the lake. “Go ahead, give it a go, you can be my guinea pig.”
I squeeze her tighter and kiss the side of her head. It’s insane how easily I can be affectionate with her. I don’t even give it a second thought. “You’re cute, but never going to happen.”
“Not even if I asked sweetly?”
I chuckle and shake my head. “Why is dipping a toe in the freezing lake something you even want to do right now?”
She shrugs. “Just interested in the arctic.”
That garners a laugh from my belly. “You’re interested in the arctic? It’s Upstate New York, Emma, not the northern most part of the earth.”
“Sometimes it feels like that.”
Can’t disagree with her on that. Living in Upstate New York is not for the faint at heart. You have to be ready to fight winter day in day out and the unpredictability of its cumulative snowfall.
“I would say you should be used to it by now, but I can remember seeing you walk the halls in high school, bundled up from head to toe. You had this red winter hat with a pom-pom on top that almost seemed like it covered your entire head. The only reason I knew it was you under that hat was because you were the only one in the whole school who owned such a ridiculous piece of winter wear.”
“Don’t you dare speak ill of that hat,” she teases. “Scarlet gave me many years of warmth.”
“Gave? Do you no longer have the old girl?”
She shakes her head and then rests it against my shoulder. “My cat, Marla Hooch, peed on it and once cat pee hits anything, it’s over. There was no saving it.”
Laughing, I say, “Oh fuck, I forgot about Marla Hooch. You named her after your favorite player in “A League of Their Own.” She would piss on everything. She pissed on my backpack.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“The fuck she didn’t. We were all over at your house after school because you, Sadie, and Smilly were selling cookies for Christmas and wanted us to be taste-testers before you went out in public with your product. I went home with a very wet and very foul-smelling backpack. Luckily Saddlemire had a backpack he wasn’t using and gave it to me.” Thank God for my friends, because I was the kid with nothing. I made a little side money from working under the table for Julius and anything I made went straight to food and clothing for myself since my mom was MIA.
“Oh my gosh, I totally forgot about Birdie’s Bakery, our little Christmas cookie scheme.”
“I think I can still taste your ginger snaps. It was supposed to be a hint of ginger flavor, not a burn your tongue off flavor.”
“Yeah . . .” she chuckles, “we might have added a little too much ginger. Thank goodness you guys were our taste testers.
“Yeah, thank goodness,” I deadpan. “How is Marla Hooch, is she still around?”
Emma nods. “She is, wearing a diaper now because she just squats wherever she wants. My mom finds it endearing, taking care of a cat with urine issues.”
“Endearing? I can think of a hundred other ways to describe that situation and they don’t come close to endearing.”
“Not into being the cat-pee kid?” Her laughter once again hits me in my soul, lifting me up.
“Never. No one ever wants to be known as the cat-pee kid.”
***
“Don’t wuss out on me, just take a sip.”
With lips sealed shut, Emma shakes her head rapidly as she tries to back up but is trapped by her chair.
“It’s one of a kind, lass,” Phillip the bartender says, a deep brogue in his voice.
“Yeah, it’s one of a kind, lass.” I mimic and hold the glass in front of her and shake the contents just enough so it doesn’t spill out. “When will you ever have another chance to drink this fine flavor of vodka?”
“Never. Not going to happen.”
I set the small tumbler on the bar and step closer, invading her space. I place one hand on the bar counter and the other on the back of her seat. With a low, seductive voice, I say, “I dare you.”
Her mouth quirks to the side as she slowly shakes her head, her soft, lustrous hair floating from side to side. Fuck, I want to run my hands through it. “I’m not the type of person who can be dared, Tucker. I’m the responsible one, you should know this.”
Shit, she’s right. She is the responsible one. I need a different approach. “Fair enough. You drink this shot of pickle vodka, and I’ll do something you want me to.”
That garners her interest. “Anything?”