by S. M. Shade
Snow flurries begin to fall as I exit the highway onto a county road. That’s not a good sign. Having any snow this early in the year usually means we’re in for a rough winter. My foot taps the brake when I see a group of people, some wearing orange prison jumpsuits, picking up trash along the edge of the road.
A bag blows across the street, and I stop to let one of them chase it. It’s not until she looks up and gives me a wave that I recognize her.
Leah.
What the hell is she doing out here? I yank the wheel to the right, pulling over to the side of the road and hop out of the truck.
“Hey!” she calls, as if she’s not scooping up refuse with a bunch of criminals. “What are you doing here?”
What am I… “What the hell are you doing out here?”
Her smile drops and she takes a step backward. “Picking up trash,” she replies, like she’s talking to a dull child.
“With prisoners?” I demand.
She rolls her eyes. “I volunteer at the recycling center. We pick up recyclables around town. Sometimes they get the inmates or people assigned to community service to help.”
“Get your ass in the truck,” I say through gritted teeth.
The little vertical line that always appears between her eyes when she’s angry becomes visible and I know this isn’t going to go well.
“I don’t know what the hell your issue is, but I’m not leaving. I’ll talk to you at home.” She turns and heads back to the group of orange clad people across the road.
The hell she is.
“Tucker!” she screeches. “Put me down!” It wasn’t a conscious decision to throw her over my shoulder, but she ended up there just the same, kicking and pounding her little fists against my back.
“Hey!” A correctional officer approaches us. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“She lives with me. I’m taking her home.”
“Not unless she agrees, you’re not,” he says, pulling out what looks like pepper spray.
Leah stops fighting and calmly says, “Fine. Put me down, Tucker, and you can take me to my car.” She turns to the officer. “It’s okay, Gary. He’s my roommate. He’s just being an ass. I’m going to go. I’ll see you next week.”
“We’ll be on Main Street, spreading mulch on the playground,” he replies, still looking at me like he’s afraid I might jump him. He should be afraid. Pepper spray or not, I’d have no problem handling this guy.
Leah shoots me a hateful look and stalks back to my truck. “My car is parked at the recycling center on Green Street,” she says, glaring out the window.
“That’s all you have to say? You were hanging out with prisoners! You have no idea what those men are capable of!” My face heats up but I’m not sure if it’s from my fever or anger.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but they are all low level non-violent offenders and in case you’ve forgotten, my brother was once a prisoner too. It doesn’t make them any less of a human being! And you have no right to embarrass me like that!”
I was a prisoner too, but she doesn’t know that. It does make my actions a little hypocritical, but I don’t care. My stomach roils but unfortunately, it’s not from anger. Jerking the wheel to the side, I pull over and get out just in time for my lunch to make a reappearance.
Fuck.
“Tucker?” Leah gets out and walks around the truck.
“Just get back in,” I croak before heaving again.
Ignoring my demand, she produces a pack of baby wipes from her purse and hands me a couple. She returns to the truck and gets in the driver’s side, leaving the door open to watch me as I catch my breath and try to let my stomach calm. When it settles enough to return, she points to the passenger side.
“We can leave my car for tonight.” A soft, cool hand lands on my forehead. “You’re burning up. I’m driving.”
I feel too shitty to argue so I just do what she asks. She may be worried about me now, but she’s still pissed, judging from the grumbling she does under her breath. “Out running around when he’s sick and I’m the one who can’t take care of herself.”
“I can hear you.”
“I hope so.”
I have to fight the urge to grin. I can’t help it. She’s fucking adorable when she’s angry. My eyes fall closed and the next thing I know, she’s shutting off the engine and opening her door.
I’ve never been so glad to be home.
Chapter Five
Leah
As much as I want to kick Tucker in the balls for the stunt he pulled while I was volunteering, I have to let it go for the moment because he’s really sick. When we get home, he goes straight to his room.
I dig through the linen closet downstairs where he keeps most of his first aid supplies and am relieved to find some acetaminophen. It should at least bring down his fever. After grabbing a sports drink from the fridge, I run upstairs to his room.
He must’ve taken a quick shower because he’s standing in the middle of the room bare ass naked when I fling open the door. My feet are suddenly stuck in glue and my mouth pops open.
If seeing him without a shirt is amazing, then seeing him completely naked is a damned religious experience. Because I want to worship every inch of that tanned, damp skin. I’ve seen those luscious V marks on his hips before when he was shirtless, but his round, firm ass is new. So is the thick penis bobbing between his legs. God, I could look at him forever.
“Did the hours in the cold make your hand too numb to knock?” he demands, his voice strained.
The tiny smirk on his face betrays his feigned anger. Part of him is enjoying this.
My hand darts up to cover my eyes about two minutes too late, and I swear I hear a chuckle. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think…I was bringing you something for your fever.”
When I part my fingers for a peek I’m relieved and disappointed to find he’s put on a pair of boxer briefs. Crawling under the covers, he mumbles, “Thanks, but I’m okay. Just need a nap.”
“No, you need to take these and drink some of this before you dehydrate,” I insist, thrusting the bottle and pills at him.
Sighing, he replies. “If I do, will you go away and let me sleep?”
“Yep.”
“Fine.”
He swallows the pills and sips on the drink, placing it on his nightstand before crawling under his covers. “Thank you.”
“Get some sleep. Yell if you need me,” I tell him.
I grab my laptop and settle into the recliner in the living room, but I can’t focus enough to write. All I can think of is the way Tucker reacted today. I have enough problems with Derek trying to police my life. That’s a big reason I moved out here, to get away and have some independence.
My phone rings and I grin when I see the name that pops up. Ely Lindon is a young guy I met while volunteering. He’s an environmental activist who was locked up for destroying some heavy equipment that was being used to tear out a local park. His effort was a waste since the park was still paved over and made into a strip mall, and all he got out of it was thirty days in jail. He was released two weeks ago, but continues to volunteer with the recycling plant on his own time.
“Hey, Leah, I just wanted to check on you after that little…scene with your boyfriend today,” Ely says when I accept the call.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I reply automatically. “He’s my brother’s friend. I’m staying at his place for a while, but there’s nothing between us.” The words don’t sound right to me when I say them, maybe because I’d love for them to not be true.
“Oh…I’m glad to hear that.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me some time?”
Ely is near my age with a sweet smile and upbeat personality. He’s the type of guy I probably should be dating instead of drooling over the broody asshole that just embarrassed me in front of new friends.
“I’d love to,” I tell him.<
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“Great! Next Friday night?”
“Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.” This will be my first date in quite a while, so I make a mental note to get my hair and nails done this week.
“Me too. Talk to you later.”
“Bye, Ely.”
I look up to find Tucker standing at the bottom of the stairs looking like death times ten. “Hey.” I get to my feet. “What are you doing up?”
“Water,” he rasps.
Someone stop me from choking this man. “I told you to yell for me. Sit down.” His face is flushed and he seems really out of it. Not too out of it to ask, “Who is Ely?”
“A friend,” I reply. “Maybe we should take you to the hospital.”
“No, it’s probably just a virus,” he grumbles, sitting at the kitchen table.
I hand him a glass of ice water and he peeks up at me. “So, you’d better stay back if you don’t want to catch it.”
“Please,” I scoff. “We live together. If I was going to catch it, I already would have. Besides, I never get sick. Now, go back to bed. You look like hell.”
He must feel terrible because he doesn’t argue, just makes his way back upstairs.
I spend the next few days writing and taking care of Tucker, well, as much as he’ll let me. By the middle of the week, he’s feeling better and at least getting out of bed to watch TV and eat the soup I made for him.
By Thursday night, he’s pretty much back to normal and he hasn’t forgotten the friend I mentioned. Ely calls me on Thursday, and I take my phone to my room to talk to him. He’s kind and funny, and I’m looking forward to our date the next night. I even went out and bought a new outfit. We’re just going to hear a local band play, so I opted for a pair of jeans that make my ass look good and a red blouse that shows a little cleavage.
After our phone conversation, I return to the kitchen to make dinner. A prickly sensation up my back makes me turn around to see Tucker watching me from the doorway. “I’m making chicken stew,” I tell him, assuming that’s what he’s trying to find out.
“Are you dating someone?” he asks, his face impassive.
“I have a date tomorrow night. Why?”
He remains silent for a few minutes. “Where do you know him from?” I don’t owe him any kind of explanation, but it’s easier than arguing. I feel really tired this evening and I’m looking forward to going to bed so I can be fresh and bright eyed tomorrow.
“He volunteers with me.” I shrug, turning back to stir the stew.
His jaw hardens. “Is he an inmate?”
He was for a brief time, but there’s no way I’m telling him that. He’d probably run to Derek and tattle. “No, he just cares about the environment.”
Tucker scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Don’t you know when a guy is feeding you bullshit? I’m sure he loves puppies and cries at romantic movies as well.”
Now he’s pissing me off.
“As insane as it might seem to you, there are decent men out there who want to date me.” I turn off the burner under the bubbling pot of stew. “And it’s none of your damn business who I see. Maybe you need to get laid and quit worrying about me.”
Tossing the lid on the pot, I stalk off to my room. Suddenly, the thought of food isn’t appealing. I’m so exhausted I strip off my pants and bra and climb into bed without bothering to shower or brush my teeth.
The words I spit at Tucker come back to haunt me. The last thing I want is to have to listen to him fucking some skank so why did I say that? I know I’d be jealous even though I have no right to feel that way. Is that why he’s acting like a gigantic tool? Because I have a date?
No, he’s never tried anything with me. Most days he just tolerates me. My tired mind finally stops pondering everything and gives in to the demands of my exhausted body.
When I wake, I instantly know something is wrong. I fell asleep with my light on, which is out of the ordinary, not to mention it was way too early to go to bed. That’s probably why I feel out of sorts.
That idea is quickly squashed when I sit up and a wave of nausea washes over me.
Oh no.
I barely make it to the bathroom in time where I spend the next thirty minutes throwing up everything I’ve eaten since I was born. At least that’s how it feels. My stomach aches and my throat is sore.
A cool rag finds its way to the back of my neck and I look up to see Tucker standing over me with a glass of water. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”
He hands me a pain reliever and watches as I swallow it with a grimace. “Your throat will get better. Mine only hurt the first day,” he assures me.
Groaning, I turn over. “I have a date tomorrow night.”
“You mean tonight. It’s four in the morning. And Ely the environmentalist will just have to wait.”
Now that my stomach has settled a little, my eyes threaten to slam shut again. “I’ll call him later. I’m so tired.”
A cool palm sweeps the sweaty hair from my cheek. “Get some rest. You’ll feel better.”
My eyes flutter open a few hours later and while the nausea isn’t too bad, my bladder is screaming at me. I make a quick trip to the bathroom and swish some mouthwash around my mouth to get rid of the horrific taste.
My throat still burns and my stomach feels raw. It isn’t until I crawl back into bed that I realize Tucker is asleep on the other half. He stayed with me? Slept in my bed?
My tired brain can’t overthink it right now. I’m back to sleep as soon as I close my eyes. When I open them again, he’s gone and I wonder if I dreamed the whole thing. My phone is plugged into the charger on my nightstand where I left it, but it’s turned off. I never turn off my phone. What the hell?
My stomach gives a loud growl and while there’s no way I want to eat and chance puking again, I do need something to drink. I step out my door and right into a wall of muscle.
Tucker looks down at me. “How are you feeling?”
“A little better maybe. Thirsty.”
He hands me the glass of ice water in his hand and I down it. Water has never tasted so good. “Thanks.”
I notice he’s holding a bag in his other hand as he follows me back into my room. Reaching in, he produces a bottle of sports drink, tissues, a bag of suckers, and a pack of anti-diarrheal pills.
Chuckling, I hand the pills back. “I don’t have the shits.”
His eyes lock onto mine, amusement shining in them. “Trust me,” he says, handing them back.
“Great, there’s something to look forward to.” I pick up the suckers. “They make suckers to help a sore throat?”
Tucker shakes his head. “I don’t know if they work. I just asked the pharmacist for something.”
He went to the drugstore for me.
“Thanks,” I reply, grabbing a cherry sucker and tearing off the wrapping. At least I can get the taste of death out of my mouth. “Did you turn my phone off?”
“Yes, it kept beeping and I didn’t want it to wake you.”
Shit. Ely. I grab my phone and wait for it to power on. “What time is it?”
“Just past five.”
I have two missed texts from Ely telling me how much he’s looking forward to tonight and that he’ll pick me up at eight. With a sigh, I send him a text explaining I have a stomach virus and apologizing. I get a text back in seconds.
Ely: Don’t be sorry. I hope you feel better. Raincheck?
Me: Definitely. I’ll call you when I’m better.
Tucker sits on my bed, his legs stretched out in front of him. “So, do you feel up to watching a movie?”
Tucker hangs out with me most of the night, until I insist he go to bed. When I wake the next morning, he’s standing in my doorway. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” I reply, stretching. “I think I’ll lie in the tub a while.”
He looks torn as he asks, “Do you think you’ll be okay by yourself today?”
It’s then I realize. It’s Saturday. “
Yep. I’m good. Go do your top secret Saturday stuff.”
His look says he isn’t amused. “I’m fine, really. Thanks for helping me, but I’m good.”
After a brief pause, he gives me a terse nod and leaves. I’d love to know where he goes every Saturday, but just like him trying to snoop into my dating life, I realize it’s none of my business.
After a few days, I’m feeling back to normal. Ely calls and asks if I’d like to go out on Wednesday night. There’s a band playing at a local bar and since it’s the night before Thanksgiving and most people are off of work, it’ll probably be full of partiers blowing off some steam. It sounds perfect.
Tucker doesn’t comment when he sees me getting ready for my date, and he stays in his room when Ely shows up to get me. I can’t worry about his reaction right now. He’s made it clear he isn’t interested in me, especially since he’s been calling me kid again. So, he certainly doesn’t get to decide who I go out with. When the doorbell rings, I glance around the empty living rom. As much as I want to go out and have some fun, a big part of me just wants to hang out with Tucker.
I’d rather he were the one taking me out, but that’s just not going to happen. I’m starting to feel like a stupid schoolgirl infatuated with her older brother’s friend.
“Leah, you look beautiful,” Ely says, when I greet him at the door.
“Thank you.”
I had my hair trimmed and nails done so I feel beautiful tonight. He walks me out to his…smart car. Okay, I’ve never actually met someone who owned one of these. He’s more dedicated to the environment than I expected. It’s absolutely tiny, though, and it seems to have trouble with one of the steeper hills that lead back to town.
He turns toward me with a charming little smile. “I hope you like the band. I’ve never heard them, but I’ve heard good things.”
“No worries. My taste is pretty eclectic.”
We chat on the drive there, getting to know one another a little better. The parking lot is packed when we arrive, but again, he has a smart car, so he has no problem squeezing it between two trucks.