Year Zero | The Contract

Reader Note: The Contract is not a romance. It is Tucker Meyer’s origin story and a prequel serial to the spicy BWWM age-gap romance Together Exclusive Official by Stevie Alison.

Tucker

I can’t wait to hit the open road.

It’s a Thursday afternoon in late August, and of course, traffic is moving slowly on I-275. I’m on my way home from work at Parris Developers, a commercial development firm in downtown Cincinnati, Ohio.

Home for me is Clairborn, a small college town about an hour northwest of the city.

As I exit at Colerain Avenue, I turn left, getting ready to take on the nice stretch of two-lane highway. Past the suburban strip malls and outlots, I hit the gas on my bronze Toyota Tundra. Trees and fields of corn, wheat, and livestock line both sides of endless road.

This is freedom.

Destination?

My lovely wife, Christine.

We got married a couple of months ago, but we’ve been together for two years. I met her at Clairborn Federal Bank, where I was checking on an investment account. Christine was working as a junior relationship manager, and she was assigned to my account. She’s matter-of-fact, soft-spoken, and gorgeous, with brunette curls, sparkling blue eyes, and plenty of thick curves. She captivated me right away.

After dating for two years, we eloped in Las Vegas. Neither of our families were happy about that. Her family, in particular, is still pissed, though to be fair, they’ve never been big fans of me. But that said, I love how she’s willing to take big risks with me. We bet on each other, and so far, so good.

Once I arrive in Clairborn, my cell phone rings. I answer it from the dashboard.

“Uncle George! What’s up?”

The voice of an older man fills the interior of my truck.

“Hey, Tuck! Still coming by tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course. I’m gonna bring those cinnamon rolls for Uncle Eddy. It’s right around the corner from the office in downtown Cincy, so it’ll be nothing for me to pick those up.”

Eddy’s my uncle’s longtime romantic partner. While he and Uncle George aren’t married, they’ve been together for as long as I can remember, so as far as we’re concerned, he’s family.

“That’s great. Eddy’ll love those. He’s been sick, so anything to cheer him up, you know?”

“Of course. Do you need anything else?”

“Nah, not really. I’ve gotta go check on my building at 223 Logan, so anything else, I can get while I’m out. Thanks, Tuck.”

Once off the phone, I’m just about to my destination. I pull into the underground garage of the apartment complex and find a nice corner spot big enough for the truck.

I’m finally home to see my bride, and not a moment too soon.

***

Christine

I returned home from work an hour ago, and I’m preparing for dinner in our small apartment kitchen. Once Tucker gets here, which should only be in a couple of minutes, we’re going to make our meal together and then enjoy it at the dining table. That’s one thing that we try to insist on — eating at the table together. He’s not always good with that, or at least he wasn’t until we moved in together, a year before we married.

The door opens, and in comes my husband, in a blue and white plaid dress shirt with the first two buttons open, belted khakis, and brown shoes.

“Hi, doll,” he says to me as he enters the kitchen and embraces me from behind.

I hand him a chrome smasher. “You’re on mashed potato duty tonight, big guy.”

Seeing Tucker makes me happy. Is it that he’s quite an attractive man? Sure. So much so, my sisters are suspicious of him because they think he’s out of my league. With his broad, defined body, well-styled copper hair, and rugged movie star good looks, maybe.

But he chose me, he always reminds me of that, and that’s what matters.

He kisses me on the lips, then works on our side dish that will go with tonight’s pork chops.

“So, how was work?” he asks.

I tell him about my day. “You know, Tucker, I’m not sure if I should’ve taken that promotion.”

“Why not? You’ve been working towards relationship manager for months. You said you were looking forward to shedding ‘junior’ from your title. You’re killing it. It’s imposter syndrome, doll. Just ride it out.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re always so sure of yourself.”

That’s one thing I love about Tucker. He’s confident in his own abilities and decision-making, and generally, he’s right. He’s doing well as a development consultant at Parris, where he’s been working for three years, and has made sound investments. Even his instincts when we travel are pretty spot-on. Everything’s taken care of, and I don’t have to worry about it.

Once dinner is ready, we sit at the dining table.

“How about you, baby? How was the office?” I ask as I mix a dollop of ranch into my mashed potatoes.

“Not bad. I’m angling for this nice commercial development they’re planning to build out in the Oakley-Madisonville area. I think I’ve got a great shot of getting the assignment.”

“I’m sure you’re gonna win it.”

Tucker noshes on a piece of pork chop. “Yeah, I’ve got the bonafides. But we’ll see tomorrow. That’s when they’ll let everyone know.”

Once we’re done eating, he helps me take the dishes to the sink. No sooner do I clear the counter does he pick me up and place me on it.

That’s the other thing I love about him. I’m no lightweight — my clothing size has “X” next to the “2.” But he enjoys lifting me, and he seems to give it no thought, let alone effort.

“You’re silly,” I tease.

He gets close, between my pants-covered legs, finds his hands in my dark brunette curls, and kisses me with passion.

“Christine, you know you like it.”

Tucker is not wrong, that’s for sure.

***

Tucker

It’s a quarter to ten in the morning, and I’m grabbing some coffee in the little kitchen at the office, which is in a high-rise downtown on Fifth Street near Broadway. I’ve got some things to look over for existing projects before my ten o’clock meeting that decides my fate. As I finish preparing my leaded fuel with a container of half-and-half and four sugars, a hand lands on my back. It does not belong there.

“Hey, Tuckmeister!”

Brent is another development manager here, and he can be a lot, especially early in the morning. He must have a coffee intravenous drip twenty-four-seven.

“Hi, Brent,” I greet him brusquely, moving my body so it’s no longer in contact with his hand.

He laughs. “You’re in a mood.”

You could fucking say that. I’m a bit on edge, but given that this lightweight is my competition, I’m about ninety percent sure I’ve got this in the bag.

After sending a few emails at my desk, my alert lights up. It’s time for my meeting with Jim Huber, one of the managing partners at Parris.

I walk into the office, which is dotted with a few houseplants.

“Could you close the door, Tucker?” Jim asks me.

I do as he says, then sit down.

“How’s married life treating you?” he asks.

“It’s good,” I say. Truthfully, it’s great. Christine and I are having lots of fun as newlyweds, in and out of the bedroom. We’re moving up the ranks at our respective employers, and soon, we’ll have the dream we want — owning a nice, spacious home in Clairborn, traveling on a whim, and having children of our own.

But I’m also not a fan of small talk, especially in the office. Work stays at work. Home stays at home. And the twain shall never meet. At least if I can help it.

“So, as you know, we’re having this meeting because you put in for the Oakley-Madisonville development.”

“Yes.”

He continues. “You are absolutely busting your balls out here with the right insights for our clients. When they see you jumping out of your truck at the potential site, they know they’re in excellent hands. With a reputation for reliability and smart insights, you’re excellent at casting the big picture vision. That’s what makes you such an asset to Parris Developers.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“But...”

Wait a minute.

“We’re not going to put you on Oakley-Madisonville.”

Seriously?

Jim goes on. “We’re assigning it to Brent Neumann.”

The hell are they on? Brent has the instincts of a squirrel crossing a busy goddamn street.

“It was a tough decision, but we went in that direction because we have another opportunity we haven’t announced yet...one we believe you’re a better fit for.”

Holy fucking whiplash.

“Alright. Lay it on me,” I say.

Jim nods. “Tucker, hear me out. We recently came into some land on the cheap...it’s a huge lot, and because of the growing location, we’re thinking it could be something big.”

I shift in my seat. “Cool. So, where is this? Kenwood? Mason? Newport?”

“Oh, no. Las Cruces, New Mexico.”

“What?” I utter incredulously.

He pulls out an envelope and hands it to me. I open it up and take a look.

“Our firm has moved forward with projects outside of the Midwest in the past, but it’s been some time, and this is the furthest one we’ve invested in. We need a guy who knows how to start from zero and manage a development in a place where we don’t have existing infrastructure and connections.”

I snicker. “That’s not Brent.”

Leaning towards me, Jim says, “Fuck no.”

“So, what’s the timeframe you’re thinking for this?” I ask.

“Six months.”

I find myself in thought. It’s six months. It’s not forever.

“Just six months.” He explains, “That could be extended slightly if need be, but you’re looking at a six-month commitment.”

The gears are turning in my head. “Shit, that might not be terrible.”

My boss continues. “Tucker, we are willing to make this worth your while financially. Also, if this goes well, you could be looking at a senior development manager role once you return to Cincinnati.”

Money? A possible promotion upon return?

“Now you’re speaking my language, Jim,” I say with a laugh.

“This is an incredible opportunity,” he reiterates.

“So, when do I need to give you a decision?”

“You’ve got the weekend, and you can update me by end of business Monday.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jim.”

***

Tucker

“Come on in!” Uncle George greets me as he opens the door to his white bungalow, just a mile away from my parent’s abode, and eight minutes from the apartment I share with Christine.

As I enter the home, I hand him the box of cinnamon rolls.

“Nice — still hot. Eddy’s gonna love this.”

“How is he?”

My uncle sighs. “Today’s one of his ‘good days.’ He’s alert, he’s got a bit of energy, but I can tell that he’s nearing the end. The pulmonary fibrosis is advanced. I don’t think he has much longer.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He chokes up. “It’s awful...it’s the worst to see my greatest love suffering. But the thing I have to remember is that every day with Eddy is a gift.”

Pasting on a brave face, Uncle George cuts up a roll. I follow him into their bedroom, where Uncle Eddy is sitting up in bed. He’s frail and pale, but his haloed hazel eyes follow me intently.

“Eddy, Tuck brought you your cinnamon rolls from the place in downtown Cincy you like.”

In a soft, gravelly voice, he says, “Thanks, Tuck. You got my favorite...pecan.”

“Of course,” I say.

We sit on chairs in the cluttered bedroom, among the end tables and TV trays filled with medication and supplies.

“So, how’s your day been, Tuck?” Uncle George asks me.

I tell him about the six-month assignment offer in New Mexico.

“Do you think you’re gonna take it?”

“Honestly, it sounds like it could be a great opportunity. The offer’s lucrative, it’s a nice little challenge, and it’s a new experience,” I explain.

“Sounds good. Lemme ask you this. Do you think taking this assignment will move you closer to your goals, or further away from them?” he asks.

Leave it to my father’s big brother to ask the important questions.

Rationalizing, I say, “It’s only six months, and I’ll be able to stack money so that once I get back to Clairborn, Christine and I can jumpstart our life — a fat down payment on a house, and we’ll start trying for kids.”

Uncle Eddy then chimes in, slightly labored. “Money’s nice...but there are more important things than money.”

Admittedly, the idea of living somewhere else for a short time is intriguing. While I’ve traveled quite a bit, I’ve never lived outside of Southwest Ohio. This could be a neat experience, and even if it sucks, at least I can say I’ve done it.

Uncle Eddy studies my face. “I can read your mind, Tuck...you think it’ll be fun. But I mean Christine.”

“What?”

After clearing his throat, he says, “Money’s important, and fun’s great. But...what about Christine?”

“Uncle Eddy, don’t worry about Christine. I know we just got married, but we’ve been in a relationship for two years. It’ll only be six months. I can fly back and forth every so often to see her...”

Firmly placing his hand on my forearm, Uncle George gets my attention. “Tuck...listen. What Eddy’s getting at is that your marriage should come first...beyond the money, beyond it being a cool new experience. When you’ve made this kind of commitment to another person, it’s not just about you and what sounds good to you. Now, you’re in a partnership with a whole ‘nother human being, with her own goals, hopes, and dreams, on top of what you guys share. All we’re saying is, before you commit yourself to a decision, make sure you and Christine have the conversation, and listen to her.”

My uncles are right. In my mind, the train had left the station already, before Christine even knows what might be in store imminently.

“I will,” I assure them.

Later, at home, I eat at the dinner table with my wife.

“Christine, I need to talk to you about something important,” I say.

“Okay,” she says, exhaling. She can tell that what I have to share next is potentially a big deal.

“I met with Jim today, and I didn’t get the Oakley-Madisonville project.”

She reaches out her hand and lightly touches mine. “I’m so sorry, baby. You had your heart set on that, and I know that’s disappointing.”

I exhale. “Thanks, doll. But it’s not all bad news. The firm wants to send me on a six-month assignment to manage a pretty lucrative land contract. But there’s one minor hitch.”

“What is it?”

I take a sip of my wine. “It’s in New Mexico.”

Christine sits back in her chair and furrows her brow. “New Mexico?”

“Yeah...now hear me out. The assignment is short. I’ll be able to manage this development from scratch, and once I’m back, I’ve put myself in position to be promoted to senior dev manager.”

“Sounds like a great opportunity for your career, Tucker. How much are they offering?”

I slide the contract across the table. She takes a focused look at it.

“That’s nothing to sneeze at. But why are you talking about this like you’re gonna leave me here for six months?”

“You just got a promotion at the bank. I won’t ask you to quit your job for a six-month out-of-town assignment.”

“But this isn’t just out of town, this is well over a thousand miles away. We just got married and I’m not gonna see you for six months.”

I gaze into her ocean-blue eyes. “I get it, I really do. But as you see on the contract, they’re paying me a nice-sized premium on top of what I already make, plus they’re covering my temporary relocation and short-term housing. And I can fly back to town every couple of weekends to see you. Look, I can save up money while I’m out there, and when I come back, we’ll find a house you really like and have enough for a big down payment. Think of this as an investment in our future.”

After a pause, Christine points out, “Tucker, this is more than what we both make combined right now, and that’s not including the housing allowance. Take it. And I’ll go with you.”

I blink with surprise. “What?”

“Yeah. I will go with you.”

“I’m not gonna say no to you coming, but what about your job?”

My wife hands me back the papers. “What about it?”

“I don’t want you sacrificing your career for mine, Christine.”

“That’s not how I see it. This is just temporary. I don’t expect for them to hold my job, but if I give them two weeks, I should still be in their good graces when we return.”

“But...”

Christine stops me. “Now, it’s your turn to hear me out. Our lease here is month-to-month, and that’s half my paycheck right there. We don’t have a lot, barely enough to put in storage. We could probably give it away, really. If I leave my job and come with you, you won’t have to worry about traveling to and from Clairborn twice a month. The math works out and we still come out way ahead. Plus, I’ve never lived outside of Clairborn, and I’m not ready to let you go for six months. This could be an adventure, big guy...a thing we experience together.”

That’s my girl.

“Like I said, I won’t say no to you coming with me. As a matter of fact, since you put it that way, I welcome it. See, that’s why I married you...besides how pretty you are. You’re a fucking math whiz...so damn smart.”

She gives me the cutest smile.

I get up and pull her out of the chair. “Come on, girl...let’s celebrate!”

“What about dinner? We’re not done eating yet!”

As I bring her close and kiss her fair neck, I murmur, “The cow’s not gonna walk off our plates.”

“True, baby...alright, you’ve convinced me. Let’s go.”

***

Christine

In September, one month after Tucker was offered the short-term contract in New Mexico, we arrive in Las Cruces, in the southern part of the state in the Chihuahuan Desert. The sand, cacti, and small desert shrubs forming the ambiance of our temporary home are a huge contrast from the trees, grass, and greenery of Southwest Ohio.

We drive into a subdivision of townhome-style condominiums on the edge of the city. Each condo is two stories, comes with a second-floor balcony, and is covered in stucco in various shades of sand.

Then, we arrive at 522 Mesa Point. My husband pulls the Tundra into the designated parking space.

“Alright, doll, here we are,” he says, kissing my forehead.

Once we hop out of the truck, the sun sizzles my pale skin, and the dryness of the air takes away the moisture in my mucous membranes. This will take some getting used to.

I gaze at the exterior view of the place we will call home for the next six months.

“Parris set you up quite nicely, big guy,” I note.

Tucker pulls a set of keys out of his pocket. “You say that now, but wait until you look at the inside.”

We climb the porch stairs. Then, he opens the door, and we walk inside.

The townhouse interior is cool, a welcome refuge from the scorching, dry heat outside. The place is nicely furnished and decorated. On the first floor is a hardwood floored, open-plan space, including a living room with a couch, love seat, and large flat-screen television, a dining area with a round glass table and four brushed metal chairs, and a kitchen designed with granite countertops, dark wood cabinets with glass inserts, stainless steel refrigerator, and electric stove, and equipped with everything we could possibly need.

“This will be amazing for us to cook in,” I marvel.

Tucker stands next to me and grabs my generous waist. “Absolutely, doll. Now, let me show you the upstairs.”

We climb the stairs to the second level. In the linen closet is a stacked washer-dryer set. To the right is an open door we pass through.

“This is our room, Christine.”

The master bedroom is furnished with a queen bed, oak nightstands, a dresser and chest of drawers, and a walk-in closet. An en-suite bathroom is attached, along with access to a small balcony.

I whisper, “This is gorgeous, baby.”

“Lemme show the rest, then we can make this room our own.”

Tucker shows me a smaller guest room with a full-size bed, then a third bedroom that has been converted into a small office and gym space.

I give my husband a huge hug. “This is wonderful!”

“It sure is.”

Smiling, I say, “Six months living here? I’m sure we can make that work.”

As Tucker leads me to the main suite and closes the door behind us, I revel at the amazing adventure we are starting here in New Mexico together.

Want to see where Tucker Meyer’s story leads after The Contract? Read the spicy BWWM age-gap romance Together Exclusive Official, on Kindle Unlimited, DRM-free ebook, or print: