All of Me

by Lori Wilde

  Lexi fueled the conversation when talking houses turned into specifics and she got down to flooring and window treatments.

  “What do you think of laminate flooring, Lexi?” Tuck asked, but he was still looking at Jillian.

  She shot him a knock-it-off look.

  Simultaneously, he slightly lifted his eyes and his shoulders.

  “Laminate definitely has its place,” Lexi said.

  “Thank you.” Jefferson raised his fork. “A lot of people look down their noses at laminate, but when you have three cats like I do, you appreciate something that, while looking like hardwood, is actually much more practical.”

  “Really?” Lexi’s eyes widened. “I have three cats as well—Mandi, Andi, and Moe.”

  “Faux wood,” Tuck mouthed to Jillian.

  Jillian swung her foot and kicked Tuck under the table.

  “Ow!”

  “Oops, sorry, clumsy me.”

  “Watch the pointy-toed shoes, Queenie. My ankle still isn’t one hundred percent.”

  “Queenie?” Lexi asked.

  “Her nickname,” Tuck explained.

  “It’s not my nickname,” Jillian said hotly. “It’s the insult Tuck likes to irritate me with.”

  “It’s not an insult. If I was insulting you, I’d call you a bathroom hog.”

  “I don’t hog the bathroom.”

  “I disagree. When I went to shower for my date with Lexi, guess what—no hot water.”

  “So you had to take a cold shower. Poor baby.”

  “Bathroom hog.”

  “Cry baby.”

  “Um … my pheasant is delicious,” Lexi said to Jefferson. “How’s yours?”

  “Wonderful. So with three cats, what kind of flooring do you have?” Jefferson asked.

  Tuck was glaring at her. Was he mad? He’s the one who’d started this whole mess. Now here he was ruining dinner.

  “Could you guys excuse me a minute? I need to make a phone call,” Jillian said.

  “Hurry back.” Jefferson smiled.

  Jillian darted to the alcove near the restroom; from here, she could see Tuck sitting at the table. She got out her cell phone and called his number.

  He answered at the table.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Hang on a minute.” While she watched, he lowered the phone, said something to Lexi and Jefferson, then pushed back his chair, got up, and started sauntering toward her, all grin and swagger.

  “Okay,” he said into the phone, his eyes on her face across the length of the restaurant. “I’m back.”

  “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  “Last time I checked, it’s still a free country. You don’t own Thunder Mountain.” The closer he came to where she huddled in the alcove, the wider his grin grew.

  “You asked Lexi out to make me jealous,” Jillian accused.

  “I did not,” Tuck huffed. “Lexi asked me out.”

  “You are such a liar.”

  “She did. Go ask her. She had a birthday gift card to Thunder Lodge that was about to expire.”

  “You expect me to believe that coincidentally on the same day I was going out with Jefferson, Lexi had a gift card to the same restaurant where he was taking me?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Was it? Tuck didn’t seem the kind of guy who’d be unkind enough to ask Lexi out simply to use her as an excuse to spoil Jillian’s date.

  “Besides,” he said, “you went out with Jefferson to make me jealous.”

  “I did not. I accidentally got roped into this.”

  “That might be true, but you sure went to a lot of trouble to make sure I knew all about it.” Closer and closer he sauntered, those whiskey eyes drilling into her like lasers.

  Jillian backed up. “Lexi’s going to think you’re interested in her.”

  “I’ll make sure she knows we’re just friends.”

  “Like we’re just friends.”

  “Yeah.” His voice was husky.

  Tuck kept coming, looking at her as if he were stripping her clothes off with his eyes. What had happened to the man in mourning she’d been living with for the past several weeks?

  Gone was the emotional barrier he’d erected. Hell, gone was any respect for her physical space as he walked right up to her, taking the cell phone from his ear and snapping it closed just as her butt bumped the wall behind her.

  “You’re being rude,” she said. “Leaving your date alone.”

  “You left the table first. Your date is just as alone as mine.” He was standing toe-to-toe with her, his mouth merely inches away. “And you kicked me. Now, that was rude.”

  She had an overwhelming urge to reach up, grab him by that expensive tie that looked like a holdover from his Magic Man days, tug him into the bathroom, and make out with him.

  If it hadn’t been for the waiter who came up behind Tuck, she might very well have done just that.

  The waiter coughed.

  Tuck swiveled his head but kept his body angled in Jillian’s direction. “Yes?”

  “Um, sir, the rest of your party left.”

  “Yeah?”

  The waiter extended the check and cleared his throat. “They said you’d be paying the tab.”

  “SO WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?” Jillian asked Lexi the next morning. She stopped by the flooring store with Styrofoam cups filled with hot coffee and cream puffs from the Bluebird as a peace offering.

  “Evie’s cream puffs!” Lexi squealed and bit into one. “Oh, yummy. Thank you.”

  Jillian rested her hip against the edge of Lexi’s counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “So, about last night … ?”

  Lexi giggled and wiped powdered sugar from the end of her nose with the back of her hand. “That was rude of Jefferson and me running out and leaving you with the check. I do apologize.”

  “No, no, it was rude of Tuck and me to go off and leave you guys at the table. Honestly, Lex, we didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  Lexi blinked at her. “What do you mean? My feelings weren’t hurt.”

  “I thought you and Tuck … that you were interested in him.”

  Lexi laughed.

  Puzzled, Jillian canted her head. “What’s so funny?”

  “I asked Tuck to take me to Thunder Mountain, because I was jealous of you dating Jefferson.”

  “You like Jefferson?”

  “For ages. And in the two years he’s lived on the mountain, he’s never really noticed me. Sure, he comes in here and talks shop, but he’s never seen me as anything more than a flooring supplier. Until last night.” Her eyes sparkled.

  “You don’t have a crush on Tuck?”

  “No.”

  “Really? I sort of thought you did.”

  “He’s good-looking, sure, and very sexy but …” Lexi shook her head.

  “But?”

  “Tuck’s a one-woman man.”

  “You mean he’ll never get over Aimee?” An emotion she couldn’t name burned Jillian’s stomach.

  “I mean he’s a one-woman man,” Lexi repeated. “I’m sorry you guys had a lousy time at dinner.”

  “We didn’t have a lousy time.”

  “You two were fighting like cats and dogs.”

  “Fighting?” Jillian suppressed a laugh. Fighting was the last thing they’d been doing. Flirting like mad and having sex with their eyes across the table was more like it.

  “Then when Jeff asked me—”

  “Wait, wait, I thought he didn’t let anyone call him Jeff.”

  “I told him that Jefferson was too stuffy. He looks like a big cuddly Jeff to me.”

  “Ookay.” The man looked neither cuddly nor like a Jeff to Jillian, but there was no accounting for taste.

  “Anyway, when Jeff asked me if I wanted to go back to his place and just let you guys fight it out, I couldn’t resist. I hope you’re not too upset about the tab thing. It was Jefferson’s idea. And I have to admit, it fel
t kind of naughty.” Lexi giggled again.

  “No, no, no problem. We didn’t mind paying. Tuck and I just … we were …”

  “I know.” Lexi nodded. “Embarrassed by your behavior.”

  That wasn’t what she was going to say, but it would do.

  “Guess what?” Lexi touched Jillian’s forearm and lowered her voice. “Jeff and I had sex until dawn. I’m worn out, but I’ve never been happier.”

  AFTER THAT NIGHT at Thunder Lodge, things between Tuck and Jillian shifted. Rather than avoiding each other as they had been doing, they started spending more time together as renovations on the lake house progressed.

  While they worked, they talked about all kind of things—politics, religion, celebrities, architecture, pet care, carpentry, and law. The only topics off limits were Tuck’s marriage and Jillian’s childhood. She’d never been comfortable discussing it. In fact, Blake was the only one who’d known the entire sordid story.

  Through their discussions, Jillian and Tuck got to know each other better and found out they had a lot more in common than they’d ever suspected. They both loved water parks and Rocky Road ice cream. They agreed George W. Bush was the worst president ever to hold the title commander in chief and that Craig Ferguson was much funnier than Conan O’Brien. They admitted recycling was a great thing to do, but they were both a bit lazy about it.

  They discovered they shared an obsession with Court TV, and they enjoyed amateur stargazing. They had each seen Les Miserables on Broadway six times and realized to their surprise, that on one occasion, they’d actually been at the same theater showing. Tuck told her stories about what it was like growing up with three older sisters, while Jillian regaled him with tales of law school. He took her shopping for some “decent”—as he put it—winter clothing, declaring none of the things she’d brought from Texas would hold up to a Colorado snowstorm.

  Every passing evening as they painted and hammered and plastered and tiled and talked, the house slowly began to take shape. Then on the Sunday before Thanksgiving, Tuck issued an invitation.

  “Evie’s having our annual family Thanksgiving feast at her house and you’re invited,” he said as they were putting new baseboards up in the living room.

  In truth, she hadn’t thought much about the upcoming holiday or how she would spend it. Usually, she hung out with Delaney, Tish, and Rachael, but this year, they all had their own celebrations, and she was so far away that when they’d called to invite her, she’d turned them down.

  “You can meet my entire family.”

  That both pleased and intimidated her. “I don’t know … ,” she hedged.

  “Come on,” he said. “It’ll be fun.”

  “You really want me there?”

  “Not just me,” he said. “Evie and Ridley too.”

  “Okay,” she said, “I’ll come.”

  Then Tuck rewarded her with a smile that lit up her heart, and she realized what a very dangerous thing that was.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tuck had to admit he was nervous about bringing Jillian to Thanksgiving dinner. He didn’t want anyone reading anything into the gesture, other than the fact that he and Jillian were simply roommates and good friends who enjoyed spending time together.

  He’d told her about Evie’s invitation because he couldn’t stand the thought of her being alone. At least that’s what he told himself. The truth was, he wanted her there. Wanted her with him, but he wasn’t ready to face the implications of that desire, so he blocked it out.

  But when his big family got together, he knew they could be a bit overwhelming. He and Jillian stood on Evie’s front porch. He had Evie’s music box to give to Ridley wrapped up in newspaper. He’d held on to the box until he’d received the musical apparatus programmed to play “Faith” that he’d ordered online. He’d installed it the day before.

  Jillian had two bottles of wine tucked under her arm. Her contribution to the festivities because, as she’d told him in the truck on the way over, she didn’t cook and who could compete with Evie on that score anyway?

  Tuck leaned over to ring the doorbell.

  “Wait, wait.” She placed a restraining hand on his wrist. “How do I look?”

  His gaze trailed over her, and he couldn’t help but think how breathtaking she was. “Fabulous.”

  “No, really.” She smoothed out the front of her burgundy dress with her palm. “The neckline isn’t too low, is it?”

  “It’s perfect. They’re going to love you.”

  Nervously, Jillian flicked out her tongue to moisten her lips. “How can you be so sure?”

  Tuck reached out to give her forearm a comforting squeeze. “You’ve put away some of the toughest felons in Texas, Queenie. I assure you that you can handle my family.”

  “Yes, but I wasn’t worried about impressing the felons of Texas.”

  “You don’t have to impress them. Just be yourself.”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Go ahead. Ring the bell. I’m ready to run the gauntlet.”

  He couldn’t help but be touched that she cared so much about what his family thought of her that it affected her emotional equilibrium. He’d never seen her looking so vulnerable. It made him want to put his arm around her waist and protect her from any and everyone. The impulse surprised him.

  “Jillian,” he whispered as he heard the door open. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Whatever happens, I’ve got your back.”

  HAD TUCK JUST CALLED HER SWEETHEART?

  Jillian shook her head and blinked, unable to believe her ears. Why had he called her sweetheart? Had he just slipped up? Or was there some hidden meaning to it?

  But there was no time to ponder the questions. Ridley was greeting them at the door and ushering them over the threshold. Jillian stepped inside, and immediately her senses were assaulted with the sights, smells, and sounds of a large extended family gathered for a holiday celebration. Ridley took their coats and Jillian handed him the two bottles of Chardonnay she’d brought.

  The dining room table was laden with food. Two gigantic turkeys. An industrial-size pan filled with cornbread stuffing, along with a serving tureen of giblet gravy. Side dishes galore—candied yams, fruit salads, vegetable casseroles, deviled eggs, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, yeast rolls and cranberry sauce. And on the sideboard a bounty of desserts. Chocolate cake, peach cobbler, oatmeal cookies, and pies—apple, pumpkin, pecan, French silk, cherry, and rhubarb. There were soft drinks and lemonade for the kids. Wine, tea, and coffee for the adults.

  The air was thick with the dizzying smells of sage and roasted turkey and cinnamon and nutmeg and onions and butter and garlic.

  A half-dozen kids cavorted underfoot, giggling and running and playing tag. In the living room, the television was tuned to a college football game, and there were several men gathered around it.

  Tuck took her by the elbow and introduced her. She met his father, James, who looked so much like Tuck it took her breath away. It was like having a snapshot into his future. Apparently at sixty, Tuck was still going to be a stunningly handsome man. She also said hello to Tuck’s other brothers-in-law, Steve and Magnus. Steve, a native New Yorker, was of stocky build and average height, and he was as dark as Swedish-born Magnus was blond.

  Next, Tuck took her to the kitchen. She shook hands with his other two sisters, Desiree and Sabrina. They looked a lot like Evie, both slender with classic features. Tuck’s mom, Meredith, insisted on giving her a hug.

  “And this is Grandmother Fairfield,” Tuck said, taking her over to meet the matriarch of the clan. “We just call her Gran.”

  The minute Jillian laid eyes on the older woman, she knew this was who she had to prove herself to. She had to be in her mid-eighties, but her eyes were still sharp even though her shoulders were stooped.

  “Tuck,” Ridley said from the doorway of the kitchen. “Can I borrow you a minute to help me set up the extra table for the kids?”


  “Sure thing,” Tuck said, and then abandoned Jillian to his womenfolk. So much for having her back.

  RIDLEY FURTIVELY PULLED TUCK into the garage and eyed the box nestled in the crook of his arm. “Is that it?”

  “It is.”

  “Hang on.” He locked the garage door so they wouldn’t be interrupted by inquisitive nieces and nephews. He couldn’t believe how nervous he was. The fact that Tuck had taken so long over the music box heightened his anxiety. He wanted this gift to be special. Tuck was a talented carpenter, but Ridley knew he’d never crafted anything like this before.

  Tuck unwrapped the music box from the newspaper. Ridley held his breath.

  “Your hands are shaking,” Tuck said.

  “Hell, I know.” Ridley’s voice was gruff.

  “Don’t drop it.” Tuck settled the gleaming wooden box in his hands.

  Ridley just stared. It far exceeded his expectations. The craftsmanship was exquisite, but more than that, it was as if Tuck has read his mind. Gently, he pushed his big thumb against the delicate cradle atop the music box. It swayed softly. A lump humped up in his throat. “Dude …”

  “You like it?”

  “Evie’s gonna cry when she sees it.”

  “Is it what you wanted?”

  “Dude … ,” he said again. There was nothing else he could say. Evie was going to love the music box, and hopefully she would understand what he was trying to tell her with it. He carefully opened the box, and the cradle rocked as it played “Faith.”

  Just then, someone rapped on the garage door. “Rid? You need some help out there?”

  It was Steve. Ridley unlocked the door, let him into the garage, and locked it behind him.

  “What are you guys doing out here so clandestinely? Sneaking a smoke?” He looked hopeful.

  “Gave it up,” Ridley said. “Supposedly it lowers your sperm count.”

  “Hey, what’s that?” Steve honed in on the music box cradle.

  “Evie’s Christmas present. That’s what we were doing out here.”

  “That’s beautiful.” Steve reached for it. “Do you mind?”

  Ridley handed it to him.