Chapter Fourteen

Somehow—Della wasn’t quite sure how—she hosted the inaugural meeting of the Credence book club at her house the next night. She’d been working a morning shift at the old folks’ home when Rosemary had lamented that Credence didn’t have a book club. And suddenly, she was hosting the first meeting that night, with one of Winona’s books being discussed.

Ordinarily, Della wouldn’t mind being put on the spot and having everything come together so quickly, and she was really looking forward to future meetings. But she hadn’t been able to think of much today—other than Tucker, and what he’d done to her body last night just by kissing her, and what Tucker was going to do to her body later tonight—so she didn’t think she’d be much good at concentrating on anything else.

But Rosemary was persuasive, and before she could really muster a suitable excuse, it had all been organized.

Given the content of their first book, Rosemary hadn’t been able to get any other residents from the old folks’ home interested. Well, Bob Downey was up for it, but Rosemary had told him women only for this one. Ruth, however, put her hand up immediately, and Winona was, of course, also in. Then Molly and Marley had volunteered, and, with assurances that the night would be done by nine o’clock, Della had given herself up to the inevitable.

Plus, it was a little bit special. Hosting her first-ever event in her own house. Having friends over for an impromptu get-together without having to consider anyone else. Not that Arlo would have cared, but with Todd, that hadn’t been an option. Friends hadn’t been an option.

She could actually do what she liked, and that freedom was enough to make her giddy.

Everyone brought food to share and a bottle of wine, so between Winona’s highly entertaining stories about being an erotic romance author and the booze, Della couldn’t remember a time she’d laughed so loud and so long.

Which felt really, really good.

The conversation drifted back and forth between the book and other topics, one revolving around sexy underwear. It was no surprise that everyone sitting at the table—except Della—owned and frequently wore sexy underwear. Even Rosemary. Ordinarily, Della would have clammed up at this further proof of her freak-dom, but she was feeling more and more relaxed around these women.

Relaxed enough to ask why, when none of them were in current sexual partnerships, they wore lingerie. When there was no one else appreciating the effort. And given how much it could cost, wasn’t it just an…extravagant indulgence? Della’s controlling father hadn’t been able to abide extravagance, and sometimes his voice still played in her head.

It had been no wonder she’d leaped at the first guy who’d offered her a way out from under his suffocating rule.

“Not at all,” Winona assured. “I wear it almost every day.”

“Is that to put you in the right headspace for your writing?” Della asked.

“No. I mean, yeah…it can help, but I wear it whether I’m writing or not.”

Marley nodded. “It feels so good against your skin, and you walk around all day like you have this secret no one else knows.”

“Right,” Ruth agreed. “It makes you feel sexy just by putting it on.”

“It’s pampering,” Rosemary piped up. “Like buying yourself flowers. Why wait around for a man to buy you flowers when you can just go and buy your own? My Winston was a god among men, but he wasn’t really a romantic. And I’ve always loved flowers. So, I’d buy myself a bunch every week or so—nothing flashy or expensive—and I’d put them in a vase, and they gave me such pleasure. Doing things that give you pleasure should never be bad.”

As if the universe had heard Rosemary, there was a sudden banging on the door. Della glanced at the time. Quarter past nine. Gah! She’d been having such fun she’d lost track of time.

And pleasure, it seemed, had come knocking.

“Oh dear,” Rosemary said as they all stared at the door. “Do you think the neighbors have called the cops on us?”

Winona snorted. “What’s Arlo going to get us for? Reading erotica while in a small town?”

But it wasn’t Arlo. He’d called around earlier, and even if he hadn’t, she knew it wasn’t him. She could feel Tucker on the other side of the door.

There was another knock, and Molly looked at Della pointedly. All five women did. “Would you like me to get that?”

Della shot up from the table as if she’d been tasered. That was a hell no. “I’ll go.”

No one was supposed to know what they were doing, and surely him being on her doorstep this late at night would be suspicious. She’d just have to send him away without letting anyone inside know who was calling. Easy. Right?

Ah…nope.

She opened the door, and Tucker was standing there with a small dog in one arm, some kind of basket in the other, and a grin on his face. She wouldn’t have thought it possible that Tucker Daniels could get any sexier, but man, had she been wrong.

Della was pretty sure Tucker Daniels holding a dog had just made her pregnant.

“Say hello to your present,” he announced in a not-very-quiet voice as he passed the dog over.

Totally forgetting about her guests, she gasped as she adjusted the bundle in her arms. Its coat was chestnut and white and so, so soft. It had a sweet face, long, floppy ears, and a button nose that was currently sniffing her neck. “Oh, Tucker.”

“You said you wanted a dog.”

The dog licked under her chin as Della stared at him. She’d mentioned it once. “I do.”

“Who is it, dear?” Rosemary said. The older woman was suddenly at her elbow and had spotted the dog in the blink of an eyelid. “Oh, my goodness,” she exclaimed, reaching out to pet the pooch. “Who do we have here?” She glanced at Tucker, apparently unsurprised by his presence. “Hey Tucker. This your dog?”

Della chewed on her inner lip, worried for a beat or two that Tucker would be annoyed she had company. But he just grinned and greeted the older woman. “Hey, Mrs. Forbes. No, I got her for Della. As a housewarming gift.”

“Well aren’t you sweet.” She scratched the dog under the chin for a beat or two before turning a beady eye on Tucker. “Don’t just stand on the doorstep. Come and say hi to everyone.” And she shuffled off.

Tucker cocked an eyebrow at Della. “Everyone?” he mouthed.

“Surprise,” she said with faux excitement. He chuckled, and she mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, his fingers brushing down her cheek just as they’d done last night, and every cell in her body underwent a wild Pavlovian response. She was back against this very door again, being drugged into submission by his mouth. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to start drooling all over her dog’s head.

Forcing herself to stand aside as Tucker strode in, Della took in the varying degrees of surprise and male appreciation flitting across her friends’ faces.

“Hey, Tucker.” Winona looked from him to Della and back to him again, a knowing kind of smile playing on her mouth. “You here for book club?”

God, there was no way Della could sit through an erotic book club read with Tucker present and not want to instantly break rules one through three. “Tucker bought me a dog,” Della said, completely unnecessarily.

“Oh my God, what a cutie.” Molly leapt up from her chair, Marley following close behind. “Is that a Cavalier King Charles?”

He nodded. “It is.”

“How old?” Molly continued.

“She’s five.”

“And does she have a name?” These were all excellent questions. None of which Della had even thought to ask.

“Betty.”

Della blinked. “Betty?”

“What kind of a name is Betty for a dog?” Rosemary asked.

Tucker shrugged as he placed the round basket on the floor near the couch. “I didn’t name her. The shelter said her first owners were Betty White fans.”

“Oh.” Rosemary’s frown disappeared. “How wonderful. Betty kinda suits her, actually.”

He chuckled at Rosemary’s swift change of mind. “I agree.”

“Why was she in a shelter?” Ruth asked.

“Her owners were moving into an apartment that didn’t allow animals.”

“Oh…poor Betty.” Molly petted the dog soothingly.

“Why don’t you join us,” Rosemary said. “We still have some wine left. Or Molly’s just made a pot of coffee.”

“Oh no, that’s fine.” He glanced at Della, and she swore she could see regret swirling in his whiskey gaze as he petted Betty’s head. “I’ll leave you to your meeting.”

The thought of Tucker departing set off a mild panic in Della’s chest, and she lifted her foot to take a step toward him but halted abruptly, hyperaware they had an audience.

“Actually.” Winona stood. “I think we’re done here.” She looked pointedly around at the little crowd of onlookers. “It’s getting late, and you guys should get Betty settled into her new environment.”

“Oh yes,” Rosemary said as she and Winona looked at each other for long moments, clearly indulging in some silent mind reading. “Way past my bedtime.”

Della knew for a fact the older woman rarely went to sleep before midnight.

“And we’ve got that eight a.m. hair and nails tomorrow,” Marley said to her sister.

Molly and Marley’s beauty salon—Mirror, Mirror—had been a hit with Credence women and those from the surrounding areas.

“And I’m on at six,” Ruth added.

Before Della knew it, the women had grabbed their stuff and were heading for the door, apologizing for not staying to help clean up. Still holding Betty, Della murmured assurances about them not having to leave yet but was beyond relieved when they all filed past her wishing her a goodnight.

“Just as well you have tomorrow off,” Rosemary said as she stopped to pet Betty’s head. “I’m sure this one is going to keep you up half the night.” She glanced at Tucker pointedly before returning her attention to Betty and saying, “Try to let her get some sleep, huh?”

With one final pat to the head, she wished Della and Tucker a good night and departed, the door clicking shut behind her.

Della stared at the closed door, slightly horrified. “I have a feeling they know.”

Tucker quirked an eyebrow. “You think?”

“I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t worry. I’ll follow up with them tomorrow and make sure they know not to gossip. They really wouldn’t anyway, I don’t think. God…I am sorry…this was totally impromptu, and I thought everyone would be gone by the time you arrived.”

“It’s fine. I should have realized… I saw the cars on the street but assumed they were for next door.”

“They really won’t say anything,” Della assured. She’d text everyone after Tucker left and swear them all to secrecy. “I want to keep this on the down low, too, you know?”

“I know.” He smiled gently then and reached across to pet Betty’s head.

Her stomach looped the loop as Della watched his long fingers scratching the dog at an obvious sweet spot just under her ear, if the look of ecstasy on Betty’s face was any indicator. The man clearly had a way with all females. “Thank you,” she said, rubbing her chin along the top of Betty’s head. “This is literally the best gift anyone’s ever given me. I love her.”

He laughed. “You just got her.”

Her eyes met his, and she shrugged. “When you know, you know.”

“Yeah.”

He smiled at her, and Della’s stomach flipped over at this man who was kind and thoughtful and so damn swoon-worthy. “C’mon,” he said, breaking their eye contact. “She’s apparently housebroken, but we probably should take her out to do her business, then let her explore her new surroundings for a while.”

Betty gave a little bark and leaned in to give Tucker’s face a big lick. Della knew exactly how she felt.

They spent the next half hour not in the way Della thought they would when she’d obsessively imagined tonight. But it was fun watching Betty sniff out her new digs, poking her cute little nose into every crack and corner and barking happily as her paws sunk into grass when they took her outside. She ran excitedly around, sniffing at the ground, and took a particular interest in the gnomes that had been placed among the flower beds.

It may not have been hot and heavy, but it was one of the nicest half hours of Della’s life, which they followed up with another half hour of sitting on the couch, watching Betty run around and around the furniture like the Energizer Bunny. She’d stop every now and then, leaping up onto their laps for a quick lick and a pet before jumping down again for another mad circular dash.

Della laughed at Betty’s seemingly unflagging energy and reveled in Tucker’s gentleness and how tactile he was with the little canine bundle of energy. In fact, just sitting here with him tonight like this was so damn domesticated it started a yearning in her that almost rivaled the desire that had raged last night.

This was what she wanted. Despite what she’d told Tucker about wanting to play the field and never settle down, she did want to share her life with a man. Someone to laugh with and talk with and raise a pet with—maybe even raise kids with. Someone who didn’t have her constantly on edge, someone who respected her, someone with whom she felt safe. Yes, she wanted to travel and go to college and do a bunch of other things with her life, but if she could only have one thing, it would be this.

But it wasn’t an option for her. There were some things she just couldn’t shake from her past. Damage that might never be fixed. And she wasn’t going to burden anyone else with her baggage.

Eventually Betty started to flag, and, after a few minutes of quietly sitting in Della’s lap, she hopped off and headed straight for her basket. Stepping onto the fluffy cushion, she turned around three times, lay down, and promptly fell asleep.

“I think Betty may have a touch of narcolepsy,” Tucker said, his voice low.

Della laughed as she stared at the snoozing pooch. “She’s the most perfect gift, Tuck.” She glanced up at him, her gaze on the hardness of his jaw beneath the layer of scruff. “Thank you.”

He turned his head, his eyes seeking hers, and suddenly, just like that, the cozy, companionable, domesticated air evaporated. She was conscious of the way his gaze zeroed in on her mouth. The heat of his thigh pressed into her, the heat of his hip pressed into her, the heat of his arm pressed into her. The desire that had been banked from the moment he’d walked into her house full of people flared to life, and she could feel the burn of it in her marrow and her lungs.

Feel the beat of it through her blood. Filling her head and her limbs and her chest.

“Where do you want her?” he asked, tipping his head in Betty’s direction but not taking his eyes off Della.

Confused for a moment, Della looked at the dog, who seemed pretty darn comfortable right there. “Where she is should be fine.”

He shook his head slowly as her gaze returned to his, and the clear intent in his whiskey eyes rolled through her like a heat wave. “I think it might be a little too early in your relationship with Betty to expose her to our make-out session.”

Della swallowed. The man made a very good point. “My bedroom.”

He nodded. “Stay here.”

She almost laughed out loud. Was he kidding? She couldn’t have moved had the couch been on fire. Which was a very distinct possibility, given the furnace roaring inside her panties.

Della didn’t watch him leave with the dog. She was far too busy reliving last night’s passionate kiss at the door. She’d gone to bed and used The Suck-u-buzz, just like she’d sworn she would, and imagined his hands roaming her body, imagined it was his mouth on her clitoris.

She’d come and come hard—twice—but it had left her empty afterward, and a little frustrated. She wanted the real thing. She wanted Tucker.

“You want more wine?” he asked from somewhere behind her.

“No.” She didn’t need wine—she was drunk enough on anticipation. Things were actually throbbing between her legs.

She heard the faucet turn on in the kitchen briefly, then turn off, and she was excruciatingly aware of the tread of his footsteps as they got closer and closer until he was entering her peripheral vision, then standing in front of her. For a moment he just stared, his eyes roaming all over her body before he slid back in beside her, taking the place he’d vacated not long ago.

“Alone at last,” he murmured, turning his head to look at her, and Della couldn’t not kiss him. His lips were so close, and they were so damn full and tempting, and she’d been craving them all day.

She practically attacked them, her mouth slamming against his, her tongue sweeping into his mouth. He groaned at the contact, and it emboldened her. Della shifted, twisted, slid her leg over his lap until she was straddling him, settling the middle seam of her Levi’s over the middle seam of his Wranglers and the bulge beneath. She gasped at the contact, at the coarse rub of fabric against flesh so sensitive she wanted to scream.

Her lips broke from his as she clutched at his shoulders, her hips restless, and she moaned in frustration, needing more, needing to be closer. “Tucker.”

“Easy there,” he muttered, hushing her with a soothing voice as his hand clamped against the small of her back, stilling the agitated roaming of her hips, holding her in one very, very nice spot.

His lips trekked down her throat, and Della’s head fell back, addicted to the fiery burn of his mouth and the tickle of his facial scruff. Goose bumps marched down her arms, and her nipples stiffened, begging to be touched.

But he didn’t touch them. He didn’t touch her at all, other than his mouth at her neck and the press of his hand low on her back. “Tucker,” she said on a whimper this time.

“Did you take care of things?” he asked, his breath hot as it whispered over the hollow at the base of her throat. “Last night. After I left?”

The question rumbled out of his lips and was shocking and titillating all at once. How it was possible to be any more turned on, she didn’t know, but his intimate question took her to a whole new plane of arousal.

“Did you?” His hot tongue flicked across her skin.

Della panted, the walls of her sex clenching at the roughness of his voice. “Yes.”

“How.”

“Vibrator.” She hoped he wasn’t after the details of which one, because she wasn’t sure she could string enough words together to adequately explain The Suck-u-buzz.

“Did you think about me while you were getting off?”

Another roughened query as his teeth scraped the point where her neck met her shoulder, and Della felt the pull of it deep in the muscles of her pelvic floor. “Yes.”

“Was my name on your lips when you came?”

“Yes.” She stretched her neck as his mouth scorched a path to her ear.

“How many times?” His silky question whispered straight into her ear canal as he sucked her lobe into the warm cavern of his mouth. “How many times did you call my name, Della?”

God…her brain was buzzing with arousal. How was it possible to be even more turned on? “T…two.”

“Yesss,” he hissed, nipping her earlobe as it slipped from his lips.

The jolt zapped her nipples, which were taut and aching for his touch, and went all the way to her clitoris, where Tucker’s cock was a hard, steady presence, and she whimpered at the potent stimulus. She tried to move, rock her hips, but his hand clamped tighter.

“Please…” She moaned. “Tucker.”

“What, baby?” he asked, all low and rough. “What do you want?”

Something. Anything. Her arousal was obliterating everything in its path, stoked by the constant press of him through their clothes. She wanted to come. She wanted to be naked. She wanted him naked. She wanted to touch him, to explore his body, to feel the hardness between his legs in her hand, to map the contours of that enticing bulge. She wanted to know him.

She wanted him to come.

…

Tucker was too far gone to register Della’s hand sliding between their bodies until it was almost too late. But finally the urgent messages punctured the thick hide of lust fogging his senses, and he grabbed for her wrist just before her hand reached its target. If she’d managed to hit pay dirt, Tucker wasn’t so sure he could be as chivalrous as his conscience demanded.

She moaned crankily in protest, her mouth breaking away. Her lips were wet and crushed-looking, the blue of her eyes all hazy, and fuck if that didn’t make him want to kiss her again.

Her brows beetled together as her chest rose and fell in an agitated rhythm. His breathing was in a similar state of agitation. “Please, Tuck. I need to touch you.”

Tucker’s cock almost burst through his fly at the streak of desperation giving her softly spoken request the impact of a sledgehammer. It was completely in favor of Della’s wishes. Unfortunately for it—this was not a democracy. It didn’t get a vote.

He’d stopped being ruled by that disruptive little fucker a long time ago.

He understood the desperation she felt, because he needed to touch her, too. To learn every inch of her skin. To get to know every freckle and mole, explore every dip and rise. To catalogue every pant and moan and whimper.

And God…he needed to know her inside as well.

But there was time for all that. They’d agreed yesterday to take it slow, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to blow it. Slow and steady it was, even if they both wanted to jump ahead.

And it was waaaay fucking harder than he thought it would be.

Last night, against the door, it had taken all his willpower not to let his hands wander beneath her skirt. And, right now, God help him, the urge to buck and grind against the heat of her core, which was practically burning a hole in his fly, was overwhelming.

Stopping her hand from going where she clearly wanted her hand to go was an act of self-denial that should earn him a fucking sainthood. Here lies St. Tuck. He died from exploding testicles.

Her hand tensed in his hold, trying to go south again, and Tucker clamped around her wrist a little more firmly. “I’m fine,” he said, leaning in to kiss her neck. “This isn’t about me.”

She pushed him back, her brows beetling even further. “Damn it, Tucker, this is about both of us. Not just me.”

Somehow, she managed to flex her pelvis just enough to ride him a little. Her breath hitched, and Tucker stifled a groan as sensation flooded his loins. Fuck. So damn good. For her, too, obviously, as she shuddered against him. All this heavy kissing, their groins plastered together, had obviously pushed her really, really close to the edge.

Her other hand moved in a determinedly southerly direction, and he had to make a grab for it with the hand he had anchored at the small of her back.

“Tucker.” Her voice was strained and urgent, but she quickly realized she was now free to move her hips, and she did so with no hesitation.

Damn it. He didn’t want to deny her—or him—this outlet of pleasure. His plan for the next couple of weeks had only involved kissing. He’d planned to kiss her so much and so often their lips would be almost permanently numb.

It was rule number two, damn it.

But…he didn’t want her going to bed tonight and using a vibrator to get off when he was perfectly capable of giving her what she wanted. What she needed. He wanted to be the one to put a smile on her face—not some toyfriend from Frieda’s.

“You want to move to the next level?”

Her hips ground to a halt, her eyes, the pupils huge, seeking his. “Yes.”

“Really, Della?” He’d told her he’d check in and he meant it.

“Really.” She panted and rocked her hips again.

His pulse beating like a train, Tucker dragged her hands up to his shoulders, anchoring them there before grabbing her hips and holding her fast again to halt all her crazy-good rocking.

“You want to touch me?” he asked, his voice full of gravel. One hand slipped from her hip, tracing along the front of her jeans until it reached the seam between her legs. “Like this?”

His forefinger followed the stitching upward. She gasped and bucked against him, her grip on his shoulders like a vice. “Easy,” he whispered, leaning into her a little, his lips hovering over hers. “Allow me.”

He kissed her then, slow and long and deep, groaning as her taste and cupcake scent once again filled his senses, getting lost in it, in her, before remembering his task. She moaned as he traced his forefinger all the way up the middle seam of her jeans to where her zipper began. But still his finger went higher, tracing the rough teeth all the way up to the tab, then reversing direction, pulling on the tab, pulling it down, easing the teeth apart slowly, slowly.

One by one.

When it would go no farther, Tucker slid his hand inside her jeans, finding the waistband of her panties and sliding two fingers inside. The suck of her breath spurred him on, his fingers seeking and seeking until they slid into the furrow of slick heat between her legs.

“Like this?”

She bucked, pulling away from him a little, their eyes locking, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. “Yes.”

“And this?” He found her clit and gave it a light rub.

She gasped, her fingers digging into the balls of his shoulders. “Oh…yes.”

Christ she was gorgeous. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her hair was loose around her face, her eyes fluttering to half-mast as his fingers worked the engorged little nub. Her head wobbled on her neck like she was too damn boneless to support herself, and the thought that it was him making her boneless was a rush to the head.

Even fully clothed, she looked utterly wanton, her eyes heavy, his hand in her panties.

“More?” he asked. “Harder, faster, slower? Tell me what you want, Della.”

“Harder.” She panted. “Faster.”

Tucker increased the tempo, her head rocking now, the grip of her hands on his shoulders turning vice-like. Her pelvis started to flex. The faster he rubbed, the more it flexed, until she was practically riding his hand. The earthy aroma of aroused woman wafted over him in an intoxicating mix, and his pulse started to throb through his groin.

Jesus…he wanted to kiss her so fucking bad, but he couldn’t stop looking at her as breathy pants turned to moans turned to gasps. He wanted to witness her orgasm, see the moment it broke, and watch it unfold in all its glory.

He didn’t want to miss a second of that show. Tucker hoped he’d get to see it often, but nothing beat the first time. “More?”

“God…Tuck.” She moaned. “Yes, more…everything.”

So he gave her everything and watched her eyes close in ecstasy and her head fall back and her hips buck wildly. Suddenly, her clit went hard as a marble beneath his fingers, and she cried out. Her head snapped up, her eyes snapped open.

“Tucker!”

“Yes, baby,” he muttered, his fingers flying as Della’s body bucked violently. “Yes.”

Her climax was every bit as spectacular as Tucker had known it would be, and he held her tight as it barreled through her body. She was so incredibly sexy tossed around like this that he never wanted it to end. He wanted her to wring every last bit of pleasure out of this experience and know that this was what she deserved.

Nothing less than total, wanton, lustful abandonment.

Finally, as the orgasm ebbed, her eyes closed, and within seconds she’d collapsed against him, breathing hard. Removing his fingers from her panties, Tucker slid both his hands around to rest on her ass cheeks, and for a minute, neither of them said anything.

Hell, he didn’t have enough breath to form words.

“Are you okay?” he asked eventually, when he could speak without puffing.

She pushed away from him a little, a process that seemed to take an extraordinary amount of effort, and stared down at him dazedly. “Yes.” Then she shook her head. “No.” She frowned. “Yes?”

He chuckled at her sexed-up confusion, which was cute as fuck. “Which is it?”

“I…” She shook her head. “I don’t think I can word right now.” And she slumped into his chest again.

He chuckled, his hands roaming up her back, stroking her gently. Speechless and boneless. “Then my work here is done.”

For a man with a painfully erect penis, he was feeling pretty damn smug.

She laughed, but it was muffled. “Are you kidding? After that little demonstration, your work is just starting.”

Tucker was totally up for further demonstration. But not tonight. His poor strangulating penis needed some time and space away from temptation. “Greedy girl,” he said as he grasped her around the ass. “Hold on to my shoulders.”

She complied without argument, and Tucker half turned, tipping Della back onto the couch cushions, her legs spread in a way that had his libido growling.

Her eyes opened. “You’re leaving?”

“Yep.” Then he ducked his head, kissing the spot where the button of her jeans would have been had her fly not been gaping open. “See you tomorrow night,” he murmured, untangling himself from her legs and pushing to his feet.

She roused, rising up onto her bent elbows. For a woman with all her clothes on, she looked utterly sated. “Please tell me you can do that again?”

“You bet your ass I can.” Tucker grinned. “I can even do it with my mouth.”

“You’re a tease, Tucker Daniels,” Della said as her elbows collapsed from underneath her and she lay sprawled and very, very inviting on the couch.

Oh yeah. Tucker had every intention of teasing this woman as frequently as she’d let him. She’d missed out on a hell of a lot of making out, and he intended to see that she caught up real fast.