Tucker

by Juliana Stone

  He let her go and swore. He was frustrated. More than a little pissed off. And confused as hell. Running his hand across the back of his neck, he decided that the only way he was going to make things right was to be as honest as he could. He had to at least try and figure out how to put into words the stuff that was inside him.

  “I’m sorry, Abby. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I didn’t know Kate and Jason were there. I had no idea, and seeing them…Christ, seeing them threw me for a loop. They weren’t just my in-laws, Abigail. We were close, you know? They were family. And after Marley…after she disappeared…”

  He closed his eyes, chest tight as images and emotions and even smells from back then caught him hard. It had been such a dark and chaotic time. The press had been in a frenzy. There were so many unanswered question. So much hope and despair and then….

  “For those first few weeks, Jason and Kate kept me sane. They came to Florida and stayed with me while my parents handled the press, the police, the search and rescue…Marley’s parents kept me alive, and I probably did the same for them.”

  He exhaled, ran his hands over the stubble on his chin and looked across the street. A rough-looking tabby slinked down the sidewalk, tail twitching erratically, head swiveling back and forth. Tucker followed its progress for a few moments. Sometimes he felt like that cat. Always looking. Always searching for something. At one time, it was all about Marley, but now…now he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for.

  “I haven’t seen them since last Thanksgiving. I didn’t even realize it had been that long until Kate mentioned it. I just kind of fell away from them.” Hell, he’d fallen away from everybody. The only constant in his life over the past year was standing right in front of him. That had to mean something.

  “Things are weird enough without me throwing you in their face. Jesus, Abby. They still think Marley is coming back.” His voice faltered a bit. “They think that she’s out there. Somewhere. Trying to get back to us.”

  “Do you?” The words were soft, and he barely heard them. “Do you think she’s coming back?”

  Slowly, he turned back to her. For several long moments, the two of them stared at each other without speaking.

  “No,” he said finally, and Tucker couldn’t lie. It hurt like hell to say it. “I don’t think Marley is coming back, and I haven’t thought that for a very long time.”

  Abby shivered from the cold, her dark eyes huge as she stared up at him.

  “So what are we doing then? You and me? I don’t want to be just the cliché, Tucker. I don’t want to be that girl who doesn’t mean more than a scratch for an itch when it needs scratching.” She blew out a breath. “We’re more than that and even though I’m not sure what exactly we have, I sure as hell thought that I was more than just a…a…a fuck.”

  Shit. How could he make her understand?

  He reached for her again and was grateful that she let him pull her in close. Wrapping his arms around her, Tucker closed his eyes and just enjoyed the feel of her. The smell of her. The fact that this woman was here with him, even if they were in the middle of the sidewalk attracting more than their fair share of attention.

  “Abby, you gotta know that you’re so much more than that.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “You’re my best friend.”

  He said the words and was more than a little startled at the punch of emotion that hit him in the gut. And also the ever-expanding ball of confusion. He needed to be brutally honest with the both of them.

  Gently he pulled away, only a few inches, but he needed to see her, and she needed to know the absolute truth.

  “We decided the other night to see where this goes, but the other night we were both buzzing with a hell of a lot of sexual need. And I think we both know that sex can screw things up. It clouds judgment and sometimes makes things that are small seem so much more than they really are.”

  He waited a few seconds, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

  “But last night wasn’t small. Last night was incredible, and I can’t lie. I want you again. Christ, I want you right now, but…”

  “But,” she whispered, leaning into his palm, those big eyes staring up at him as if she could see into his soul.

  “You said you wanted to see where this leads. That you were willing to take it day by day. Abby I want that. I do. But you gotta understand that when Marley left, she took a piece of me with her. I don’t think I’ll ever get it back. There’s a part of me that’s just not…right. You have to know that it’s not you. It’s me. I’m the one who’s fucked up, and I don’t want you to…”

  He looked at her helplessly. Was he even making sense?

  “You don’t want me to fall in love with you.”

  A car honked. Someone yelled at them to “get a room.” They ignored all of it.

  “I’m afraid if we keep on doing whatever the hell it is that we’re doing, you’re going to get hurt. ” There it was. It was all he had. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  The way Tucker saw it, he would never love another woman. It was something that he wouldn’t allow. He’d barely survived Marley, and he was damn sure that he wouldn’t survive another dance with that devil. Love wasn’t in the cards for him, and he’d come to terms with that.

  But he was sick of drifting. Sick of searching.

  He was sick of being that damn tabby cat. So where exactly did that leave him? Did he end things before they began with Abby? Did he go back to the nameless, faceless sex that didn’t matter? Did he go back to the Sonya Devonishes of the world? Or did he walk the road alone?

  He exhaled roughly. “You know what? Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

  “Okay,” she said softly.

  “What was that?” His thoughts scattered as he focused on Abby.

  “I promise that I won’t fall in love with you.”

  A pause. This was unfamiliar territory, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed.

  “Abby,” he said, more than a little hesitant. Should he be happy to hear those words? Because it wasn’t happy coursing through him. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was.

  “Look, Tucker. I like you. You like me. We’re friends. More importantly, we’re really, really good friends. Right?”

  He nodded.

  “Really good friends who just happened to share a mind-blowing night together.”

  That got a smile out of him. “Mind-blowing?”

  Abby tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t return his smile, though her eyes darkened. “It was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

  “It was pretty damn hot.” Hell, he’d rate it right up there himself.

  “I want more of that mind-blowing sex.”

  Jesus, he wasn’t used to this frank side of Abby Mathews. “The mind-blowing sex is good.”

  “And you don’t need to worry about me getting all territorial. I just got out of a relationship.”

  Tucker wouldn’t exactly call what she’d had with the dumb-ass musician a relationship, but he wasn’t going to argue with her.

  “I just don’t want to be treated as if I don’t matter, Tucker. Friends don’t do that to friends.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I still want to take this day by day, but only if we have some guidelines to follow, because I think we can both agree that our friendship means a lot and I don’t want to jeopardize it.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I have a few rules.” There was the lightness that had been missing in her voice.

  “You do,” he replied, letting that lightness wash over him.

  “Yep.”

  Okay, he thought, things were going to be okay. Relieved, he smiled.

  “Let’s hear ‘em, Miss Mathews.”

  “Even though this is pretty much a friends-with-benefits thing, I don’t ever want to hear you say those words.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Friends with—“

  “Ah.” Her f
inger was on his mouth. “Never. Again.”

  “Got it.”

  She pressed into him, her arms snaking up behind his neck. “And it’s exclusive. No more yoga instructors or Sonya Devonishes or those freaking groupies that chase after your sports guys. If we’re going to be hanging out, then it’s just us.”

  “Check.”

  “And we’ll have to come up with something to explain all of this to my brothers. Especially Mick. I have a feeling he’s going to have a problem with our new...relationship. I don’t want to hide, but he can’t know the truth because he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

  Okay, Mick, might be a problem, but Tucker was confident he could handle him. Maybe.

  “Which brings me to the most important thing. I don’t want to hide or sneak around. That’s just not my thing. If you walk into The Black Dog and I want to kiss you, then I’m going to kiss you.”

  “Got it. Exclusive. No sneaking around and public kissing allowed.” He flashed a smile. This could really work. He’d finally have someone he cared about in his life, and his baggage wasn’t an issue. His inability to commit to anything serious wasn’t going to bite him in the ass.

  “Are you sure about this?” He had to ask one last time, just to be sure.

  “Yes, Mr. Simon. I’m sure.” She took a step back. “Our arrangement suits me as long as…”

  “As long as?”

  She bit her bottom lip in that way that would drive any man crazy. Lord, the woman had an amazing mouth.

  “Our friendship means a lot to both of us so if either one of us thinks it won’t survive whatever this is that we’re doing, we need to call it quits. Friendship above all else, all right?”

  “Deal,” he murmured.

  Abby jerked her head toward the walkup. “Now are you coming up or what?”

  Startled, Tucker glanced toward her building. He just assumed he’d be at his own apartment tonight. Alone.

  “My roommate Lisa is upstate visiting her parents and won’t be home until tomorrow night.” She shrugged. “I have the place to myself.”

  She didn’t have to ask twice. Tucker grabbed her hand, and the two of them took the stairs as if they were racing to a fire.

  “One more thing,” Abby said after they entered the building.

  “What’s that?” He was distracted. Already picturing her naked. Above him. In front of him. Underneath him.

  “Marathon or sprint?”

  Holy. Hell. An image of her flashed in his brain. Abby up against the wall, hair all over the place, warm and wet and so fucking hot that it hurt.

  They were at her door.

  “Both,” he growled.

  Abby unlocked it and then they were inside her loft. She shrugged out of her jacket and reached for the bottom of her T-shirt. It was on the floor before he had time to toss his leather coat.

  “Good answer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sun was just peeking through her bedroom window when Abby woke up. She stretched and took a moment as things slowly came into focus. Like the jeans on the floor beside the bed. Her bra tossed onto the chair in the corner.

  Tucker’s boot near the bathroom door.

  She frowned. Where the hell was the other one? And smiled. Oh. Yes.

  And then kept smiling as she turned onto her side so that she could have a look at the man she never dreamed would be in her bed.

  Tucker Simon was sprawled on his back, arms spread above his head, covers tangled and bunched up low on his torso. With his thick hair low across his forehead, dark stubble on his jaw and long lashes a girl would kill for—he looked hot and adorable and so damn sexy.

  He was all kinds of masculine with his defined abs, broad shoulders, and square jaw. But the generous mouth and well, those long lashes softened him.

  Carefully, she inched forward until she was snuggled against Tucker, her finger absently moving across his chest. She heard his slow and steady heartbeat, watched his chest rise and fall and she couldn’t help but think that it was the most wonderful sound in the world.

  Memories of the night before washed over her and she bit her lip, cheeks burning. She’d been insatiable and he’d been, well, incredible, and even that didn’t come close to describing the night.

  “Shit,” she whispered, raising her head so that she could see him again. “What have I gotten myself into?”

  Would she survive Tucker Simon? Did a question like that even matter at this point? She was already all in and, well, there was no turning back now.

  She spotted a freckle near his eyebrow and frowned, moving a little bit closer. Hmm. She’d never noticed it before.

  “Hey,” he murmured suddenly, and she froze. Before she could blink, Tucker’s arm snaked around her, and then she was on top of him, staring down into a wicked smile.

  “Hey yourself,” she murmured, finger moving to the freckle she’d spied.

  “God, you feel good first thing in the morning.” His voice was rough, still full of sleep.

  “Flattery will get you everywhere, my friend.”

  He grinned and Abby’s heart turned over.

  “What time is it?” Tucker asked.

  “Early. Not even seven yet.” She frowned. “You probably have to head to the office?”

  Tucker’s hands were on the move. “Yep. Got a meeting with a few high-profile sponsors interested in Kendrick. What do you have planned?”

  It was weird. Small talk. Normal talk. Pillow talk.

  “Nothing exciting. Laundry.”

  “Laundry, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you do other than the bar?” Tucker asked suddenly, hands firmly attached to her butt. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you that before.” He looked puzzled. “I know you’re not at The Black Dog full time. You went to college, right?”

  “Yes, for three years and then I interned at a publishing house downtown for six months.”

  “Publishing. Impressive.”

  “Not really,” she answered, breath catching when his hands began to massage in slow, sensual circles. “I like eating, so when my parents decided to scale back at the bar I picked up more hours and between my salary and tips I do all right. In my spare time, I…”

  Damn, but he had magic in his fingers.

  “What?” Tucker grinned. “What does the lovely Miss Mathews do in her spare time?”

  “Sketch.” She barely got the word out. There was too much pleasure going on, and it was hard for her to think straight.

  “Sketching as in drawing things?”

  She nodded and waited for his reaction. Her ex had thought it was a waste of time. In his mind, making a living as an illustrator was pretty damn lean. As if being a musician was akin to winning the lottery. What an idiot.

  “Interesting,” Tucker said softly, eyes hooded. “Do you sketch nudes?”

  “No,” she replied, hands splayed across his chest. “But I could be persuaded.”

  “Huh,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She let him have his way with her, his mouth trailing a line of fire along her jaw and up to her mouth. He kissed her so sweetly, so thoroughly, that all those places that still ached from the last few days sprang to life.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, voice still rough as he broke off the kiss. Both of them were breathing heavy at this point and the covers were now bunched at the bottom of her bed, leaving both of them naked.

  “For what?” she asked when she was able to form a coherent thought.

  Good god, but the man could kiss.

  His hands splayed across her butt once more and heat pooled between her legs, there where his erection pressed against her.

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t know that about you.”

  There was a serious look in his eyes, and Abby wasn’t sure what to make of it. “It’s just sketching. It’s not a big deal.”

  For a few moments, Tucker watched her, though his hands never stopped moving, a
nd when he spoke, there was that hint of rasp in his voice. The one that drove her crazy.

  “I know that your favorite color is orange.”

  Abby’s eyebrow shot up. “How would you know that?”

  “The bag you always bring to the bar is orange, your watch is orange, the laces in your running shoes are orange and you wear those little orange studs in your ears.”

  “Wow,” Abby said softly, not really knowing what else to say. Something inside her tightened. Something fluid and emotional. Something that had no business rearing its head right now. She pushed it back.

  “I know that even though you’re a classic rock kind of girl, you have a soft spot for country music.”

  “Do not.”

  “Do so,” he shot back, hands now pushing him into her. “Do you want to know how many times I’ve caught you lost in space thinking about stuff…like maybe sketching me in the nude—“

  “Tucker, I don’t like country music.”

  “Bullshit. Do you know what you do when you’re thinking of’—he edged his cock deeper between her legs—Hank?”

  “Hank?”

  Tucker grinned and jerked his hips. “Hank.”

  “Oh,” Abby giggled thinking back to that first embarrassing morning at the hotel. “Hank.”

  “When you’re concentrating or lost in thought, you hum that Chicken Fry song. Every single time. Chicken. Fry.”

  “I don’t…” but her voice trailed off, because she did. “That doesn’t mean I like country music. It just means that I like that song.”

  “Whatever, Mathews. I’ll get you to cross over to the dark side. Just wait and see.”

  “So country music?”

  “Yeah,” he grinned. “They don’t call me cowboy for nothing.”

  “I’ve never heard anyone call you cowboy.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head. “Nope.”

  “We need to fix that.”

  “Do you know what I think?” she said softly, moving her hips in such a way that Tucker growled like an animal, hands clasped to her.