Freeform by Xavier Neal Page B

out of line it is for me to fool around with my boss' nephew. Believe me. I'm lecturing myself like a small child who can't stop drawing on her bedroom wall because she thinks she’s Harold from Harold and The Purple Crayon. I keep telling myself this is not the lesson my sisters need to learn. They need to see the example of a steady relationship or if I can't provide them with that, then the steadiness of being a strong single female. Being this smitten over someone I just met won't teach them the right things. And before you go on some weird tangent about how they're old enough to think for themselves now, let me just say, when you’re the big sister, no matter how old you get, the little ones still turn an eye to you. Especially if you raised them. Especially if you helped them through their first period, first kiss, and first heartbreak. They may look to you less for actual advice, but they see the example you continuously set. I want my sisters to see the importance of being responsible...But....there's this undeniable impulse I can't resist when I'm around Tucker. As much as I wanna pin it all on the lack of sex in my life, there's something so much more there. I see when it looks at me. It's as if I painted the moon and stars by hand every night. I hear it when he calls me June Bug. When we connect, the rest of the world seems to vanish and I'm all that truly matters. Is that crazy? It sounds crazy. That's gotta be crazy....I've gotta be crazy.
     
    I shut my lap top and reply.
     
    Me: And where exactly are we going?
     
    Tucker: Part of the beauty is in the surprise.
     
    I roll my eyes and helplessly smile.
     
    He's too charming for his own good. That is unless you are his mother and then he treats you like you're a shepherd for the devil.
     
    After quickly showering, shaving, and changing, I drive across town to the condo. Once I'm inside I politely call out his name repeatedly though it becomes more faint each time. Unable to stop myself from admiring the art work laid out to dry, I begin an uninvited tour of paintings and sculptures unlike anything I've ever seen before.
     
    Don't touch anything. No. Not even that one. It's a 3D painting and I know it makes you want to touch it, but we have to be respectful.
     
    I lean in closer to admire the contrasting colors in the abstract painting that's resting on a bar stool when Tucker warmly says, “You like it?”
     
    The realization I'm no longer alone shakes me off balance and the minor heels on my feet betray me as I bump into the very stool showcasing it. My instant reflex is to catch the art yet Tucker's arm flies to me instead.
     
    “Whoa there, June bug. Didn't mean to scare you.”
     
    “Naturally skittish,” I confess. “Blame it on having a father who thinks it's funny to jump out from around corners to scare his children. I've got many scars to prove it's not.”
     
    Tucker lightly chuckles.
     
    “Sorry though. Like so so so sorry...” I quickly reach down and place the painting back where it was being showcased. “I didn't mean to damage your work.”
     
    “You didn't,” he reassures me, a hand lightly touching my hip. “And even if you had, it's more important that you are alright than it.”
     
    The words cause me to nervously swallow. “Why's that?”
     
    “While neither of you are replaceable, I can always recreate a painting. There's only one June Bailey.”
     
    His finger softly strokes the area it has latched itself onto and I struggle to remember how to breathe.
     
    Something with the lungs...and the ears? Or the nose?
     
    “You look beautiful,” he compliments, his hold sadly dropping. After his eyes travel down the form fitting black dress, Tucker tips his head towards me. “And you put your hair up. Good choice. It's gonna get hot.”
     
    The new information shoots my eyebrows up. “What do you mean hot?”
     
    He simply smirks wider and winks.
     
    Ugh. As sexy as all that is, I don't do heat well. I melt like