Page 36 of Take the Bait
“This is my friend, Mr. Tucker,” she said, her eyes shining as she introduced him. “Anyone want to guess what his job is?”
Several hands shot in the air.
“Yes, Ethan,” she said, pointing to a Black boy with a red racecar shirt on.
“Your boyfriend!” He shrieked excitedly.
“That’s not a job, dummy!” The girl who originally asked if Tucker was her boyfriend said, sticking her tongue out.
“Morgan, we don’t call people names.”
“But it’s not even a job! It was dumb!”
“Morgan, would you like to skip the fun activity Mr. Tucker has planned?”
Morgan leaned back into her chair with a huff. “No,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Anybody else know what Mr. Tucker’s job is?” Hanna asked again as the line leader raised her hand. “Sophia?”
“A chef?” She asked, her eyes quickly darting to Tucker.
“Exactly. Great job, Sophia.” Hanna gave her a warm smile. “Mr. Tucker is a chef. He started the restaurant down the street, Fish Food. Have any of you been there?”
About half the students in the class raised their hands, and Hanna chuckled.
“It’s really good, isn’t it?” The students nodded back at her, eyes bright with attention. “Well, today Mr. Tucker has come here to teach you how to make one of his favorite recipes. What do y’all think of that?”
Delighted squeals and a small round of applause echoed throughout the room.
“Mr. Tucker, you think you can handle this class of rowdy five-year-olds?”
“Do I ever,” he responded with a grin. “Who wants to make some kiddie crunch?”
Hanna imploredher pounding heart to slow.
Tucker felt like a dream—one she didn’t want to get too attached to, for fear she’d wake up any moment now.
He’d come up with the idea to come into class and teach the kids how to make a little snack mix for themselves. With theholidays around the corner, it was growing harder and harder to get them to focus, especially toward the end of the day. So he threw this out as a solution for her—a fun Friday activity for the kids to do right before heading out for Thanksgiving break.
Since the dinner at her house a couple of weeks back, he’d been cooking at her place on the nights he could get away from the restaurant, taking the time to teach her how to make the things she showed interest in. So far, he’d taught her to make butter noodles, grilled cheese, and pancakes.
She had to start somewhere.
On the nights he couldn’t get away from the restaurant, Tucker dropped off dinner for Hanna at her place before he went into work. These were more glamorous meals, some that he was testing out for the restaurant: fried oyster po’boys, shrimp and grits, and fried chicken were a few of her favorites.
Not to mention, he ate her pussy like he was a starving man. He couldn’t get enough—and neither could she. She loved the way he completely lost control when she took his thrumming cock into her mouth, the way he tried to last for as long as possible before collapsing into a sated heap on her couch, the way he looked at her like she held the sun and moon in her hands as she licked him.
Could she really be dating a chef who was sexy as hell, cooked her delicious food daily, and loved her kindergartners?
Hanna had been burned before. Not just by men she thought would stick around, but by people in general. Women she thought had become friends, colleagues she hoped to hangout with outside of work, people she encountered at her local spots—all were letdowns, most of the time.
And she kept waiting for Tucker to let her down.
Kept waiting for him to realize her awkwardness wasn’t cute at all.
Kept waiting for him to grow tired of her mediocre skills in the kitchen.
It’s too good to be true.