Chapter 11 #2
He smiled, but ever the smart guy, he released me and took a healthy step back. “I know you can handle yourself, Haze. You’ve had to. But you’re a part of us. That means we’ve got your back. I’m not about to let anything happen to you.”
I stood still for a second too long, stunned by the realization I really did matter to him.
Don’t ask me why that scared me more than anything else.
Tucker took in my expression, and a slow smile came over his face. His eyes seemed to darken, and he opened his mouth to say something, but his phone buzzed. This time he glanced down and winced. “Give me a sec.”
He stepped away to answer, voice low and steady as he spoke into the phone. Even that—his calm in chaos—somehow made my chest ache. I knew that voice. I used to hear it in the dark, whispering dreams against my skin.
Now it was just another reminder that he belonged to this place in a way I didn’t. Or maybe I did and just couldn’t see it yet.
He returned. “Work call, sorry.”
I nodded and grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler nearby, mostly to give my hands something to do that didn’t involve yanking Tucker in for a kiss I wasn’t sure I’d recover from.
He yawned, broad shoulders rolling in a stretch that lifted the hem of his shirt just enough to flash a sliver of tanned skin and those maddening hip lines that really should be illegal. But it was the exhaustion in his face that held me.
“You look like you haven’t slept.”
“I haven’t.” He rubbed his eyes and blinked hard. “We got called out twice last night. Structure fire, then a med call. A guy fell off a ladder putting up Halloween lights.”
I winced. “Oof. How bad?”
“Sprained ankle, bruised ego.”
I shook my head. “Star Falls: population of creative stubborn idiots.”
He gave me a pointed look. “And at least one finish carpenter who looks like she’s forgotten how to sleep.”
“It happens.” I shrugged. “Last night wasn’t my best rest.”
He nodded like he understood—which, infuriatingly, he probably did. The man always saw more than I wanted him to. And for once, I didn’t hate it.
He crouched again, going through the hardware bins. “So what would your best night look like? Hypothetically.”
I looked out the windows at the golden sunlight streaking across the work zone, smelling the pine and sawdust in the air.
“Best night? I get a solid eight hours, my back doesn’t hurt, the coffee’s hot, my dad’s not yelling at me about my life choices, and the jobsite doesn’t have any material delays or raccoons in the Porta Potti. ”
His mouth twitched. “That happen recently?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
We shared a smile that felt like…more. But my heart immediately skipped a beat in warning. It wouldn’t last. Not once he heard my voicemail.
And then I saw him sit down at the picnic table outside the trailer, rubbing his eyes like the weight of the day had finally won. Something in me softened, but I forced myself back to work.
An hour later, I walked by the picnic table, shocked to see Tucker still sitting there, his head down, one arm tucked under, the other resting on the table.
His phone peeked out of his back pocket like a beacon.
Or a trap.
I glanced around. The others were working on the far side of the property. I crept closer. “Hey,” I whispered. “You awake?”
No answer. His shoulders rose and fell with slow, steady breaths.
My head swiveled again. No one was watching. Tucker seemed to be out, but it was still a gamble to move close. Perching casually against the table, I leaned close, like I was whispering something in his ear, and reached out, fingertips grazing the edge of his phone.
I slowly pulled it free from his pocket and—
A hand clamped around my wrist like a steel trap.
I squeaked.
Tucker lifted his head. “You seriously trying to steal my phone while I’m unconscious?”
“Borrow,” I said, breathless. “And I was going to return it.”
He stood and tugged me with him. “Let’s chat.”
“We can chat right here. Right here is great.”
But he was already steering me behind the trailer. He let go once we were out of sight, arms crossed over his chest. “Words.”
I backed up half a step. Maybe two. Because being around Tucker when he was sleepy, annoyed, and focused on me?
Danger.
He simply moved forward, the space between us shrinking as something charged filled the air, thick and electric.
My back hit the wall. Heat rolled off his body as he leaned in close, his breath brushing my ear. “You’re up.”
My heart hammered in my throat. “I wasn’t going to do anything illegal,” I said. “Maybe technically unethical, but not felony unethical.”
He gave me a go on gesture.
I sighed. “Okay, so I just wanted to—”
“Erase the message of you yelling at me?”
Well, that was one way to spin it… I sagged in defeat. “You know.”
He just looked at me.
Right. He knew everything. “Fine. I wanted to erase it, preemptively. As a favor to your ears. You’re welcome.”
He gave me a long look.
I squirmed. Apparently, I wasn’t going to learn to think first, act second anytime soon. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve come to you.”
“Yes. You should have.”
“I panicked! It’s practically a life skill.
” Damn, he was close enough that I could smell the cedar in his shirt and the clean skin of his neck.
It was sexy and extremely annoying. So I doubled down and jabbed a finger into a hard pec, trying to get the upper hand even though he was so close, I could reach out and put my mouth on that sexy throat of his.
Or his strong stubbled jaw. Or those lips I couldn’t stop staring at.
“You should have told me.”
I jabbed his chest again. “Why, so you could step in and save the day? I handled it myself.”
He caught my hand, locking eyes with me. “You were harassed for trying to do something good. I couldn’t just let that go.”
“I’m not your problem, Tucker!”