“Dad, I’m not bringing her home. We don’t give specifics about our plans because, if we do, there’s a camera shoved in our face everywhere we go.”
“I don’t get involved in your life. But your mother hasn’t been this excited about anything in a long while. You ran off to sing your songs, we supported you. I’ve never asked for anything from your career. But if you can get that actress to come visit her, you’ll have made her decade.”
No. Nuh-uh. No way. Bringing Kenzie home to the folks was the opposite of keeping it light. “Dad—”
“First thing tomorrow, I’m driving an hour to town to stock up on more goddamned kale. Swear to heaven, you don’t bring that girl to meet your mother, and I bought all this green shit for nothing, there will be tears on Christmas. Do you want tears on Christmas?”
Tucker did not want tears on Christmas. He also had no claim on Kenzie or her Christmas whereabouts.
“I don’t expect we’ll be together much longer.”
“Well, that would break your mama’s heart.”
“I figured you’d want me and Kenzie to break up so you can stop making vegetable drinks.”
“Seeing how your mama’s eyes light at the possibility of you bringing her home? Well, I’ll feed her all the vegetable juice she wants.”
This was bad.
“You know these things aren’t what they seem.” He couldn’t tell his mom, but his dad wouldn’t snitch. He could lay it all out to get off the hook.
His father ignored him. “Broke her heart not to see you but twice a year for so long.”
A lump of regret caught in his throat. His dad knew his buttons, that was for sure. He hadn’t meant to make his mother sad. Never meant to stay away so long. Traveling, gigs, it all added up over time.
He’d do anything to make it up. His mind drifted to how Kenzie would look sitting at his mother’s table.
No.
He’d do almost anything
“Don’t ruin her Christmas,” his father commanded.
The line went dead.
Dammit. How the hell was he going to convince Mackenzie Bennett to come home with him to small-town Collbran, Colorado at Christmastime?
Kenzie’s Bel Air bungalow was tucked off the main road. He pulled up to the gate and pushed the button on the speaker box.
“Tucker McKay for Mackenzie Bennett.”
He waited while whoever managed her security did their thing and checked him out.
A click and the gate swung open.
Tucker drove up the windy drive, his Jeep Cherokee hugging the asphalt curves. He climbed out and his boots clopped along the concrete steps up to the huge archway, practically announcing he was now in the lair of America’s Sweetheart.
He barely had his fingertip on the bell when the door swung open.
“Well, Tucker McKay. Imagine that.”
He’d heard of her. Moira Bennett. The original momager. The Kardashians had nothing on her drive and persistence.
Kenzie had replaced her a few years back, and Moira was not happy. Word was they’d had a falling out over the whole thing. Color him shocked to see her in Kenzie’s home. Then again, he was proof some would do anything for family.
“Tucker?” Kenzie stood at the top of the arched marble stairway, her eyebrows puckered together. Without changing the expression on her beautiful face, she clipped down the stairs toward him in her stilettos.
Fuck, she even wore stilettos at home. Small-town Colorado was going to eat her alive. It wasn’t like he was asking her to visit Telluride or Aspen—places where her stilettoed feet would fit right in with the eclectic fashion and five-hundred-dollar steaks. No, he wanted to take her to a muddy ranch to meet his now-kale-drinking mother in the sticks.
“You’re early.” Kenzie’s statement was more of an accusation, and the way she wouldn’t meet her mother’s eyes told him exactly why.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Tucker. Kenzie’s told me so much about you.” Moira held out her hand to him.
He shook it.
Fuck, even the woman’s hand was cold.
Kenzie had the look of a twelve-point buck in the headlights of his Silverado back home. “My mom was just heading out.”
Moira squeezed his fingers a few extra unnecessary seconds. “But I don’t mind sticking around to say hello.”
Kenzie’s expression hardened. “Nope. Time to go.”
“Well, I look forward to seeing you at my Christmas party then, dear.” Moira gave her a stare with more sharp edges than a set of steak knives. “Tucker?” She turned her stare to him, the steak knives dissolving on contact. “Do you have plans for the holidays? We’d love to have you attend. Vail is wonderful this time of year.”
No way in hell.
“Headed home, ma’am. Won’t be able to make it.” He turned on the charm, held her gaze, nodded just a bit—a trick he’d learned on the road to make a rejection not feel so personal.
Kenzie pulled open the heavy wooden door. “Thanks for stopping by, Mom. Talk soon.”
Her mother sailed across the threshold, pausing only briefly to kiss Kenzie’s cheek.
The door pushed closed, and Kenzie leaned against it, her breaths measured.
“Are you o—”
She held up a finger. “Give me a second.”
He waited.
“What’re you doing?” he finally asked.
“Trying to figure out how to get out of going to my mother’s for Christmas.” Head raised, she pasted on a smile he knew wasn’t honest. “Okay, what’s up?”
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I believe I may have a solution to your problem.”
“You found out I was switched at birth?” she asked, totally serious.
“No, I have a proposition for Christmas.”
“After the argument I had with my mother just now, I really hope you’re not screwing with me.”
“I thought you might enjoy spending some time with my family at Christmas. Come visit the ranch.” There it was. All laid out for her like a picnic.
She stilled. “I thought we agreed to keep things light. Meeting your family for a major holiday isn’t light.”
A shrug, they could spend the holidays together and still keep things light, if that was what she wanted. “It’ll give the reporters something to print.”
She pressed her hands against her waist. “That’s not it. What’re you angling at here, Tucker.”
He sighed. She could read him like a pro. “It seems our mothers had the same idea. Mine wants me to invite you to the ranch for Christmas. Dad’s being persistent about it, and I figured I had to at least ask.”
“Your family wants me to come and do an appearance,” she hedged. “It’s not that you want me to come.”
He gritted his teeth. He wanted her to come. He wanted her to be in his house. He wouldn’t kick her out of his bed, either. That was the damn problem. “My family wants to meet you, and I want you to come.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why do you want me to come?” She spoke slowly, as though talking to a toddler.
“Because I’m inviting you?” Wasn’t that enough? He wouldn’t invite her, no matter how manipulative his mother was being, if he didn’t, deep down, want her there with him.
And he wasn’t going to dive any further into that line of thought. His goal was to get out of Los Angeles, not fall for the ringleader.
“Tucker.”
He scrubbed a hand over his cheek. She wasn’t going to make this easy.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Is it too much for you to admit that you’re asking a friend for a favor with your family?”
When she put it like that… “No.”
“Then you should say it. Like it really is.” She made a little “come on” motion.
“You know that’s what I meant.”
She crossed her arms over her chest.
Appare
ntly, they were doing this. “I like you. You know that part.”
“Keep going.” More of the “come on” motion.
“We get along.”
“Not so hard, is it?” She made the motion again.
“And I’d like to ask my friend, that’d be you, for a favor.”
“I love doing favors for friends. What is it that you need?” Her hands dropped to her hips.
“Would you make my mother’s Christmas wish come true and visit her?”
Kenzie’s eyes sparkled like the you’re-screwed twinkle lights in Jessica’s office. “When do we leave?”
“Christmas Eve?”
“Perfect.”
“Not so fast. Now it’s your turn.” He held up his hand, extended and curved his index finger in his own “come on” motion.
She raised one eyebrow. The muscle control in her forehead was really quite impressive. “My turn for what?”
“Way I see it, I’ve admitted twice that I like you.”
“Okay.” She dropped her arms and started to go past him to the threshold. “Good talk we’ve had here.”
He stepped in front of her, his hands shoved in his pockets so he wouldn’t reach out and touch what wasn’t his. “It’s your turn.”
She returned her hands to her hips. “To tell you I like you?”
“Yes.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then you probably shouldn’t come home with me.”
She pressed her lips together. “I like you, Tucker.”
“Do you have a thing for me like I have a thing for you?” Might as well know up front, before they spent a week at his ranch.
“I thought we agreed we’re not doing that.” She said it, but she didn’t sound committed.
He shook his head. “No, you said that. I didn’t actually agree.”
“Well, I tell you what.” She sauntered toward him like the movie star she was. “Let’s go to Colorado and maybe you’ll find out.”
Then she lifted herself to her toes, and without an audience, Mackenzie Bennett kissed him, pressed herself along the length of his body, drank him in. He parted his lips, and the tip of her tongue touched his in exploration. He responded with a moan. He couldn’t help it. Didn’t want to try.
Kenzie had her lips pressed to his, her tongue in his mouth, and she smiled. Smiled like she had just won the prize. What the prize was, he had no idea. And he didn’t care. He slipped both hands into her hair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss further. This time, she made a deep noise in the back of her throat. It was his turn to grin. The palms of her hands slid up and over the muscles of his back to his neck.
As quick as it’d started, Kenzie released him. She grabbed her bag from the table by the door and stepped outside.
As though nothing had happened at all.
6
Chapter Six
Three Days Before Christmas
Kenzie took Tucker’s hand as they made their way up the front steps to her friend Taylor’s house. Her stomach took a little tumble when Tucker’s thumb traced her knuckles.
She couldn’t believe she’d kissed him before their public lunch the other day. She also couldn’t get it out of her head. That and the fact that she’d agreed to go home with him for Christmas. Kenzie wasn’t the kind of woman a guy brought home to his mother. Case in point? She’d never been brought home to anyone’s mom.
They stepped through the doorway to a party in full swing. A jazz band played Christmas carols while waiters carried trays of champagne flutes through the black-tie event.
Taylor was a television executive and her home reflected the woman people thought she was—straight lines, severe angles, and a multitude of gray hues. Her friends knew that was all a front and deep down she was pure marshmallow fluff. For Taylor’s annual Christmas soirée, some decorator had added silver to all the gray. Even the Christmas tree was silver—an abstract art piece made of thousands of little mirrors.
Tucker dropped Kenzie’s hand and placed his palm against her back, tethering her to his side. She ignored how his touch warmed her. Well, tried to ignore it. Her body wasn’t having any of that.
“What do you say we have dinner after?” Tucker leaned close, so she could feel his breath against her earlobe.
Kenzie’s stomach rumbled in agreement. “Can’t. I’ve got to pack for our trip to Colorado.”
They left in two days. Truth was, her stylist had already packed for her, but Kenzie needed some time for herself after events like this. Time away from who she was supposed to be, so she could just be Kenzie. Binge on Netflix and exist in a bubble that didn’t involve anyone but her.
“Thank God you’re here.” Taylor hurried toward them in a silver sequined gown that matched the house. “I’m going to borrow Kenzie for just a moment.”
“Of course.” Tucker dropped his hand.
She immediately missed it.
“Food’s that way.” Taylor gestured toward the spread in her dining room.
Tucker nodded, winked at Kenzie, and headed toward a cluster of guests near the table.
“What’s up?” Kenzie followed Taylor through the crowd toward the patio.
“Okay. Well.” Taylor’s cheeks were flushed. “You know the writing you’ve been doing? The story in Paris? I mentioned it to a friend.”
Kenzie’s blood seemed to thin. Her pulse seemed quicker. Colder.
“What friend?”
“Alex.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Alex wasn’t just a friend. He was the man behind the curtain for most of the movies on Flicker, the latest streaming channel.
“And he loved it,” Taylor continued. “Wanted to know when he can read it.”
Kenzie wasn’t a writer. She was an actress who wrote things down. Occasionally. Nothing serious.
“He can’t.” Kenzie crossed her arms over her chest. “Those screenplays are private. I shared them with you as a friend. Not so you can shop the ideas around.”
“They’re good, Kenz. You need to think about letting someone other than your cat read them.”
“I don’t have a cat.”
“Then my point is even more valid.” Taylor raised her eyebrows.
“Taylor?” Her date of the night, a record executive, asked from the doorway. “There’s something going on with the caterer. You need to come see this.”
“Be right there.” Taylor turned to him and gave a little wave. Then she looked to Kenzie. “Consider it. Seriously.”
Kenzie braced her arms on the railing when Taylor went back to her guests. She had a good heart, but she shouldn’t have shared Kenzie’s idea. It wasn’t her place.
“Everything okay?” Tucker’s voice slid over her.
She turned toward him.
He stood in the doorway, his tuxedo backlit from the glitz of the party. He’d even polished his cowboy boots for the night. Tucker looked more delicious than the champagne circling on silver trays in the room behind him.
Thousands of little bubbles sizzled through her bloodstream at the sight of him.
One look at her and his expression slipped to concern.
“Everything’s not okay,” he confirmed as he stepped to her, ran a hand over her arm. “What happened?”
He already knew that she wrote, from the first time they’d met. She’d opened up to him and it had come up. He also knew she didn’t talk about it much. So, his understanding that she wasn’t thrilled Taylor had chatted it up with an industry executive wasn’t a surprise.
“Your friend was just trying to help. I’m certain.” He stood close to her. His hands resting at her elbows, soothing her. “She didn’t give him the pages. What is it that’s truly bothering you?”
Kenzie glanced up at him, catching his gaze from under her eyelash extensions. “What if it’s not good? The writing.”
What if she embarrassed herself? A flop with a script she hadn’t written was one thing. One that was her baby was a whole different game.
&nb
sp; The pad of his thumb traced her jawline. “Let me read it.”
“You?”
“An honest, unbiased outsider who knows a little about putting words together.” The edge of his mouth quivered with humor.
She couldn’t help it, he cupped her cheek and she let him. “You’re being serious about this.”
“One hundred percent.” His thumb traced the edges of her lips, the motion echoing intimately further below.
“Why do you want to help me?” she asked, gripping the sleeves of his tuxedo.
“Sometimes people do things for other people because they want to, not because there’s something in it for them.”
That wasn’t true in the world they lived in.
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Tucker brushed his lips against hers.
And she lost herself to another Tucker kiss. Firm, hot, and all Tucker.
“Are you ready to reconsider dinner?” he asked when their lips separated. “We’ve been seen. I’m all dressed up. You’re all dressed up.”
Normally, Kenzie wanted to be by herself after an event, but tonight some time with Tucker sounded…nice.
“How about we order in? Watch some TV?” she asked. “Change into something not black-tie?” She gestured between them.
His hand found hers. “I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the evening.”
In the lottery of life, Tucker had won. At least for the night. Merry Christmas and all that.
This was his thought as Arrested Development played over Kenzie’s eighty-five-inch flat screen while they lounged on her sofa, her back to his front. His arm draped over her waist. He still wore his dress pants but had ditched the jacket and bow tie and had undone the top buttons on the shirt.
Kenzie toyed with his hand while the television flashed. She had changed into yoga pants that did amazing things for her assets and a top that fell off her right shoulder. He wanted to run his lips over her skin there, but he didn’t. Kenzie clearly needed some time in her own head. But she’d invited him in, and he’d taken the offer. He’d give her the time she needed without heating things up.
Rock Hard Cowboy: A sizzling Christmas romantic comedy. (Mile High Matched Book 0) Page 4