by Alexa Davis
A shadow fell across my shoulders, and I gripped the warm paper cup tighter in my hands to still my shaking fingers as Tucker came around me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I leaned up for a kiss on the cheek and he sat across from me with my folder in his hands.
“Was I late?” He asked, before taking a sip of his coffee and shooting me a grateful smile.
“No, Olivia was ready for school on time and I got here early.”
“I sure miss that kid. She’s brilliant.” I grinned and nodded.
“Definitely too smart for her own good. She asked after you. She wanted to know when you were going to come over again and tell her more funny stories.”
He splayed his fingers out over the Manila folder.
“I am happy to do that, anytime. Maybe on neutral ground some time?”
“Don’t be silly. You can come over, any time you want to. I need to stop being such an idiot, and now is a good time, don’t you think?”
“You’ve never been an idiot. I spent all night staring at a part of Andrew he wanted to keep hidden, part that I saw so rarely I convinced myself it wasn’t who he was. But you knew, didn’t you?”
I felt tears sting my eyelids and sniffed, studying my coffee cup to avoid his eyes.
“I wish he was the man he wanted people to think he was,” I said, and dabbed my eyes with my napkin to draw the shameful tears out the corners and away from the makeup I’d applied in a fit of optimism and vanity.
“Did you know he had cancer?” I glanced up at him wide-eyed.
“How did you find out? He didn’t tell me until after the divorce, and swore me to secrecy.”
“He told his attorney. Why did you tell people it was his heart? Why not just tell the truth?”
“His heart did give out. Congenital disorder plus thyroid cancer, equals sixes as to which would kill him first—the cancer, or the treatment.” I paused, unsure if he’d understand. “I feel bad for his widow, sometimes. Not bad enough to give her Olivia’s inheritance, but… I don’t hate her.”
“Andrew’s best quality seemed to be his ability to surround himself with people who were better than him.” I glanced up at his words, and the look on his face made a hot, crimson flush creep up my neck. “I talked to Steve this morning. He reached out when he found out I was looking at your case.” My tongue flicked out over dry lips, but my mouth was a desert and there was no relief from the dread that overtook me at his expression.
“He suggested that I use your husband’s cancer as grounds for dismissing the will. Which, obviously, is exactly the right course, and what I would’ve suggested yesterday, had you just told me.” I floundered for a moment. I couldn’t explain why I hadn’t told him. Part of me had assumed that his best friend knew already, but mostly, Andrew had just trained me to be obedient to him.
“I’m sorry, Tucker. He made me promise never to tell anyone, and I guess I just never thought to break it.” The look on his face told me he was guessing at the parts I wasn’t sharing, but he left it alone, and I was grateful for it. He rubbed his jaw and watched me across the table, and my stomach tightened as I remembered how good it had felt to have his eyes on me in the dim firelight, as his hands moving with them, all over my body. I felt swollen with need, and with loneliness for him, and his eyes mirrored my thoughts back to me until I was afraid he could see inside my head. I dropped my gaze to the table and gathered myself back together before looking up at him again. He had opened the file and was looking over it.
“Libby, I think we have a shot at getting Olivia an inheritance. But it’s a shot, not a guarantee. If we lose, you’re out the inheritance and the cost of an attorney, since you so stubbornly refused my help privately.” He glared at me and I laughed.
“What do you want me to say, Tucker? I should have let you help me as a friend. I panicked, thinking you would see me as a leech, only remembering you exist when I need something. That is so not the case. I hope you know that.”
“Apology accepted, but you should work on that, you aren’t very good at them.” I threw a wadded-up napkin at him, and he laughed when it fell harmlessly on the table in front of him. “We’re going to do this, and I feel positive about our chances. But no matter what, you will be okay. I won’t let you or Olivia down, okay?” He reached out a hand, and I placed mine in it. His fingers were warm and strong, and as callused as I remembered. “I have missed being your friend, Libby. Right now, being the friend I promised is my priority. To you… and to Olivia.” He ran his thumb over my knuckles.
“So, this means you’ll come to dinner?” He laughed and nodded. “Thank you, Tucker. I feel so stupid for not just talking to you about Andrew when he was still alive. I thought it would be disloyal, but now, I wonder if you could’ve spared him some of his mental anguish, or helped me shelter Olivia from the worst of it.”
“You did the best you could, Lib. No sense second guessing yourself now. He leaned farther forward and pulled my hand to his mouth, dragging his soft, full lips over the tender spot his thumb had warmed in a ghost of a kiss.
“I’m not going anywhere, Libby. I did what you asked and left you alone—and you’ll have to admit, it didn’t turn out so great. This time, we’re going to do it my way.” I bristled and he gripped my hand tighter, forcing me to stay close. “When you’re ready, you will come to me. Not because I made you, but because I’ve earned your trust.” He gave me back my hand and I folded them together in my lap.
“I trust that you love Olivia. I trust that you will do everything in your power to help us get back our home and what is rightfully ours.” I shook my head and sighed. “Don’t ask me to trust that you know what’s best for me. I believed that once, and I have well and truly learned my lesson.”
Tucker flipped through the pages in the folder, scanning each one quickly before moving to the next. His face was set in determination, and a dark cloud hovered over his features. It was rare to see him so brooding and angry, and the need in my stomach intensified, even as I cursed myself silently for bringing him back into my life. It couldn’t be healthy to watch his anger and want him even more. Not when I knew how painful and terrifying a man’s anger could be. I looked up and he was watching me again, the expression on his rugged features unreadable. No, I wouldn’t be sating my need for his body on top of mine. He was too good a man to risk ruining him with my flaws and failings.
I felt the pressure of fresh tears and blinked rapidly, willing them back and praying he hadn’t noticed. Instead, the wrought iron table shifted as he stood and came to me, putting his arms around me.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Libby,” he whispered as he kissed my temple. “I never could. No matter what else you think, or choose. You know I will never cause you harm.” I didn’t push away, just sat stiff in his arms. How could I relax, when the man knew my thoughts as well as I did? If he had a weapon, that would be it—and if there was one thing I knew, it was that men were canny with their weapons.
5. Tucker
I thought about Libby all week at the expense of my work and my appetite and—I was pretty certain—my sanity. When we had gone our separate ways after coffee, I was still her attorney, we were still going to fight Andrew’s last-minute will, and despite looking like just asking was a task equal to swallowing worms, Libby had invited me for dinner on Friday. I spent the rest of the day pulling together statements about Andrew’s secret diagnosis, much of it with the help of Steve Piper, my unexpected ally.
On one hand, his desire to help little Oliva made sense. He was a family man, and devoted to his own wife and five kids. Any man who was willing to start his work day before his coworkers were awake, just to ensure his evenings were free for soccer games, barbeques, and playing at the park, had to have a soft spot for a little girl who had lost both her father and her home in one fell swoop.
He asked me to keep his assistance to myself, and warned me that Carl, my once-nemesis and ever the thorn in my side, had decided to take care of Andrew’s young widow him
self. I scoffed and heard him laugh on the other end. It was no secret to anyone that Carl was in the market for a new mistress. Andrew’s young, surgically altered widow was a perfect match for the paunchy, balding, functioning alcoholic’s appetite.
A simple contestation of a will was turning into some sort of cloak-and-dagger bullshit, and I couldn’t tell if I was more irritated with the secrecy and John Grisham-quality it all, or with the fact that I was getting no small satisfaction from opposing Carl in the courtroom—my field of battle for once—rather than having him launching attacks from the shadows.
Libby’s suit was filed, and all we had to do was sit and wait for the court to give us a hearing date and name the judge. Libby sounded so calm when I called her to tell her, but I was on pins and needles, more than I had been in a long time. I knew Carl would play dirty, try to emphasize marital problems, hurt her reputation. For the first time in my years of practicing law, I wondered if I had the self-control to not fly across the room and put him in the hospital when he inevitably crossed the line and said something he couldn’t come back from.
I mentioned it to Libby in one of our phone calls, so she could start preparing herself for the personal line of questioning we’d be practicing once the hearing approached, and she reminded me not to borrow trouble. I smiled to myself. I remembered the day I had said that to her, the first time Andrew hadn’t made it home when he said he would, and wasn’t answering his phone. I had never asked what had become of him that night, or when he’d finally made it home. Learning what I did since his divorce, I had my suspicions.
My gut churned, thinking of all that Andrew had put her through. I hadn’t seen it, seeing him through the lens of the Lancaster sense of honor. Libby deserved better. I glanced around my office and shut the case file in front of me. I reached for my phone to ask her if she minded me coming by early, and it rang in my hands. I was so strung out I dropped it, watching in horror as her name lit the screen before the phone skittered out of sight under the heavy desk.
I cursed and got down on my knees, looking for the phone. I heard a dim buzz from under one side, and bashed my head on the underside of the middle drawer as I backed out enough to pull out the side drawer. There was my phone, a little dusty, but no worse for the wear. I listened to Libby’s message, which turned out to be recorded in Olivia’s little voice, reminding me to come for dinner. Before she said goodbye, she asked in a whisper if I could bring soda.
I laughed and rubbed my head where I’d banged it. Drawer got replaced, phone dusted off, and with my head still raw and sore where I’d bashed it, I gathered my cases together to work on over the weekend. I went home to change and pick up Kennedy before heading over to the townhouse Libby rented across town.
Once I walked in the door and saw the cute little dog-walker had already been by, I decided to squeeze in a shower and a shave before Libby saw me. She’d asked me to bring a swim suit, so I threw some board shorts in my backpack, along with a bottle of pinot noir and Kennedy’s treats. Olivia got the Fresca I’d picked up for my soda cravings, and I tossed in a fresh mango the housekeeper had left me the day before for the little one to try.
The drive to Libby’s felt like the longest twenty minutes of my life. Kennedy loved the extra time on the road, begging me to roll down the window so she could hang her face out, tongue lolling, dog drool sweeping back over the rear passenger window. I punched in the key code for the front gate and slowly rolled through the little community, slowing as we passed the pool, in case Libby and Olivia were already there.
Kennedy pulled to the full length of her leash all the way to the front door, and as I knocked, a small shadow appeared through the glass before Olivia ran shrieking to her mother. “There’s a dog on our front porch!” I heard Libby’s musical laugh, and then a flash of blonde hair appeared briefly in the gap of the open door, before Kennedy sped through and went skidding across the tile floor, looking for Olivia. Libby gasped, but recovered quickly, asking about Kennedy as she took the wine from me and shut the door behind me.
“She’s such a pretty little thing. What breed is she, exactly?”
“I don’t rightly know. There’s a little beagle in there, and it almost looks like retriever. But she’s a mutt, just like me. Adopted her at a fair that Callie had. You remember Callie Drake, don’t you?” Libby nodded and smiled.
“Callie Lancaster, I hear, nowadays. George finally pulled his head out and did right by the girl, huh?” There was a scamper of little bare feet, followed quickly by the softer pad of puppy paws.
“Pulled his head out of what, Mommy?” Olivia gasped. “I got my head stuck in the railing on the stairs when we moved in. I was trying to see down.” Her wide, round eyes were serious as she looked at me. “Luckily, Mommy got me out before they had to cut it. It hurt my ears.” I hid my smile behind the soda I pulled out of the backpack and handed to her mother, watching her face change from almost afraid, to gleeful, as she pranced around Libby’s legs. “You got my message!” She cried, before covering her mouth with her pudgy little hands, and shooting a glance up at mother.
“Olivia!” Libby looked mortified. “Did you call Uncle Tucker and ask him to bring you soda?” Olivia’s soft curls bounced as she nodded her head, crestfallen. Libby glanced at me and I grinned. “You are not allowed to use my phone when I’m not in the room, young lady.”
I winked at my goddaughter, then slid my hand to the small of Libby’s back, reveling in how her skin felt as my hand slid along the edge of her t-shirt. “But I’ve been so busy lately, it was really nice to know exactly what Olivia needed. I hope I got it right.” Olivia nodded and ran off to the kitchen before her mother could take the soda pop away.
“It has no sugar or dyes, so I figured you might mind less than you would’ve otherwise.” She made a small sound in her throat and turned to face me, tears in her eyes.
“Did you see her face when she realized she’d given herself up?” She croaked, touching her fingers to the corners of her eyes and sniffling. “That was so damn funny. How can I even get mad when she’s so stinking cute?” She sighed and giggled one more time. “Oh, she played you.”
“I was aware of it at the time. It was adorable. I saved the message so you could hear it. She’s amazing.” Libby nodded, watching Olivia through the doorway, as she struggled to pull the heavy fridge door open, and put the soda inside. She stayed close to me, and I let my hand rest on the swell of her hip. When she looked up at me, the softness in her large brown eyes was almost enough to undo my careful control. I pulled my hand back and flashed her a smile before nodding toward the kitchen.
“I think I’ll just score myself a few more favorite-uncle brownie points, and pour her a little of that soda. With the heavenly smells coming at us from the general vicinity of the pot on the stove, I reckon there’s something for me to sample, if I’m faster than you.” She laughed and led the way, and I watched her walk away from me, long hair loose down her back, hips swinging like a bell. My zipper pressed uncomfortably into my growing erection as I remembered that golden cascade of hair over our naked bodies, and I shook my head to clear it before joining Libby and Olivia in the sunny kitchen.
6. Libby
Tucker was as appreciative as any man raised by a momma who could cook, and managed to put away enough food for two men before collapsing back in his chair with a groan. Olivia was begging to go to the pool, but poor Uncle Tucker looked like the wrong end of an eating competition. He rubbed his belly and pouted.
“A beer sure would help to settle my stomach.” He rubbed his distended stomach.
“Well, now I know what it looks like when a tall, skinny man binges on boiled crawfish and slow-cooked barbeque beef. I can’t tell if I’m horrified, or just really impressed.” He chuckled and stood slowly, stretching, and rubbing his belly again.
“I don’t get home-cooked meals very often, and when a beautiful woman makes two of my favorite foods in the whole wide world, I know better than to leave anything b
ehind.” I patted his shoulder and handed him the backpack he’d left in the front hall.
“Think you can still shimmy into those board shorts you brought?” He snatched the bag out of my hands and scowled.
“Not only can I get into them, I’m going to make all the soccer moms at the pool crazy.” I arched an eyebrow at him and he grinned. “Hankering for my food baby.” He pushed out his stomach and made it bounce for Olivia, who cackled with glee.
“Get those shorts on and let’s take Olivia swimming before bath time.” I took my daughter upstairs and changed her into her Disney princess bathing suit, before slipping into my red bikini. I felt guilty the moment I put it on, but I’d caught Tucker watching me as I moved around the kitchen and I wanted to feel that way for just a little while longer. His eyes had been hungry and possessive. I’d scalded my wrist with boiling water, all because of those hooded eyes and the way they’d tracked me around the room. I was tempting fate and testing my own willpower by choosing the little triangle bra swimsuit, but something in those eyes made me feel like I was in complete control. It was heady, and empowering.
I glanced in the mirror and checked out the cellulite on my thighs, care of pregnancy and spending more time with Olivia instead of going to the gym. Seeing it brought me down a couple of notches from power-drunk and I wrapped a sarong around my waist and rejoined Olivia and Tucker in the tiny, fenced-in square of grass I called my yard. Kennedy the mutt was on her back in the cool shade of the privacy fence, and Olivia rubbed her belly while her little back leg kicked.
Tucker was kneeling next to Olivia, facing away from the door, and didn’t see me when I joined them. Their heads were so close together they almost touched, as he helped her convince his pup to love her. His hair was almost as long as hers, its color a light brown that once would have been bleached almost white-blond by this time of year from hours of time in the sun.