Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
TUCKER
Hazel sat on the edge of my tub, soaking her feet, my cat on the mat, the two females eyeing me like I was the one who didn’t belong.
Hazel’s hair was fifty shades of wild, her T-shirt—actually, my T-shirt—doubling as a parachute while her pj bottoms put the short in shorts, and somehow she still managed to knock the damn breath clean out of me.
Still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Damn. I was toast. Burnt toast.
I hadn’t come to terms with that. I’d never imagined being in this position again, trying to resist her cluelessly sexy charms.
And yet here I was, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep them from reaching for her.
I wasn’t just burnt toast; I was a fucking fool.
I was also bone-tired, strung out on two hours of sleep and a whole bunch of regret for not having sought her out since the tree house, but the second I’d seen her, everything inside me had kicked back to life like I’d taken jumper cables to the chest.
The image of her from our night in the tree house—lit up beneath me, fingernails digging into my ass, breathless and wild-eyed, panting my name like it was the only word in her head—crashed over me like a wave.
She stared at me, not saying a word.
“What are you doing?”
“Exactly what it looks like.”
Okay, no small talk. Noted…
She waved a hand in front of my face. “Did you just fall asleep standing up?”
I blinked. Yawned. “Very possibly.”
She tilted her head, concern creeping in. “You’re swaying on your feet. You need rest.”
“I can rest when I’m dead.”
“Not funny.”
Debatable. “Maybe we should talk.”
“No, thank you.”
“Haze.”
She sighed. “Fine. But only if you’re joining self-care night.”
I eyed the tub. “I wouldn’t appreciate it. But I will share those Cheetos.”
She clutched the bag to her chest. “No soak, no Cheetos. It’s called self-care.”
Our gazes locked and held.
“What do you have against being nice to yourself?” she asked.
“I’d rather sleep.” I gestured to her attire. “You stole another shirt, one that could fit Sasquatch.”
She lifted her chin. “Also self-care.” She paused. “And a strategic block against you getting ideas.”
A laugh tumbled out of me, and it felt dangerous. What was happening right now? I was feeling things I had never in a million years thought I’d be feeling again, and certainly not for this woman, the one who’d hurt me more than I’d thought possible.
Which made me a damned fool but didn’t remove the smile from my face. “You’re lying about not wanting me to get ideas. You’re wearing that shirt to keep you from getting ideas.”
She neither confirmed nor denied, but we both knew it was true.
And something else true? A few weeks of talking to her again, plus one night of world-stopping sex that had felt like a lot more than just getting off, and I was gone for this woman.
Tough, scrappy, biting Hazel, who wielded her words and the jut of her chin like knives.
Loyal Hazel, who’d braved returning to a town that hadn’t always been kind simply because her dad needed her.
Giving, caring Hazel, who went around in the middle of the night fixing things because she thought she owed the past. Quiet, unexpected Hazel, who fed my grumpy cat, sought out my company, and kissed me like I mattered to her as much as air.
Brave, fierce, loyal, temperamental Hazel, who’d once upon a time turned me upside down and inside out. Tenderhearted Hazel, whose smile could lower my blood pressure and make me feel way too much. Even now, as I stood there, my heart didn’t just want her—it flat-out needed her.
Terrifying, since anything that mattered this much would not end well.
“So…” she said, eyeing me. “Where are the cookies you keep promising?”
“I’ve got something better.”
She fought a smile and lost. “I’ve already seen it.”
I grinned like a mad man. “And?”
“And it’s spectacular, as you damn well know. But cookies are better.”
I laughed. “I was actually talking about dinner. Real food that won’t come with a sugar crash.”
“Is it pizza at least?”
“Technically, yes.”
Suspicion colored her words. “With extra cheese and sausage?”
“Veggie and grilled chicken. On flatbread.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“If you don’t love it, I’ll order you a sausage pizza,” I promised.
“With extra cheese.”
“Deal,” I said. “Come with me to the kitchen.”
“Sure, but there’s one little thing you need to do first…”
Three minutes later, I was also sitting on the edge of the tub, sans socks and boots, pants rolled up…feet soaking in water hot enough to peel barnacles. “This better count toward hazard pay.”
Hank, who’d heard us talking and didn’t like to miss anything, sat on the other side of Hazel in boxers and a T-shirt that read, STILL GOT IT (BARELY), happily swinging his feet in the tub.
When Caleb and Emma showed up, Hazel improvised, directing them to sit on the counter on either side of the sink, which she filled with hot water and Epsom salts. So now they too were…soaking their feet.
Caleb’s knees hit his ears so high, he nearly gave himself two black eyes. When Emma moaned in pleasure, he perked up, solemnly promising to get her to make those sounds again later.
“Good luck measuring up,” Emma said, making me and Hazel laugh.
We were still laughing and throwing around insults when Ryder and Penny found us.
Everyone froze.
Well, everyone but Hank, who farted.
“Ah,” he said and pointed to Her Fluffiness still sitting on the mat.
Her Fluffiness, who objected to the accusation with a how dare you look, padded out of the room, head high, tail swishing like a metronome of superiority.
“She’s going to poop in your shoes,” I told him, then turned to Ryder, who was laughing at us and taking pics “for proof.”
Shaking his head, he put his phone away. “Wait until the guys see two badass Colburns primping at spa night.”
“Yuk it up, Chuckles. You’re next.” I looked at Penny. “You too.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” She was already kicking off her shoes and glancing around. The small bathroom was standing room only, zero vacancy on tub or sink real estate.
“I’ve got it!” Hazel announced, then ran out of the bathroom, her wet feet slapping on the floor like an escaping duck. She came back a minute later, breathless, carrying two empty five-gallon buckets.
“I’m not putting my feet in a bucket,” Ryder said.
“You are if you want to get lucky tonight,” Penny said, then happily sat on the hamper, her feet in the bucket Hazel had set up for her.
Ryder stared at Penny.
Penny smiled sweetly.
Ryder sighed and kicked off his shoes. He lifted one foot and lowered it into the bucket. “Ouch. My toes are too crunched.”
“That’s what you get for having a size-thirteen foot,” Penny said.
Ryder smirked. “Well, we all know that exceptionally large feet mean—”
“I’ve got it!” Hazel once again ran out of the room. This time she returned with a cardboard moving box she’d gotten from the garage and a big black trash bag.
Two minutes later, Ryder sat on the floor against the wall, his feet in the bag, which was in the box and filled with Epsom salts and hot water.
“Don’t even think about farting now,” Ryder warned Hank. “We’ll asphyxiate.”
Bill chose that exact moment to appear. He froze in the doorway, eyes taking in the scene: six full-size adults, feet in buckets. “What the actual circus hell is this?”
“It’s self-care,” Ryder said. “You’re up.”
“The hell I am. I don’t go for this girlie crap.”
Hazel looked him right in the eyes. “If you don’t, I’ll tell everyone that you and Sybil scarred me for life.”
“Shit.”
Hazel set up her dad with the bucket Ryder had rejected.
All of us—fully grown, allegedly competent people—sat there like putty in Hazel’s hands.
Bill pointed at everyone in the room. “If any of you says a word about this, you’re dead to me.”
He was a hard man. Always had been. But ever since Hazel had come back, he’d been trying—still gruff, still grumpy, but softer with her. Kinder. He wanted her to stay.
He wasn’t the only one.
Bill’s phone buzzed. He read the text, smiled to himself, then stood, sloshing a little water over the side of the bucket. “Gotta go. Uh…work emergency.” He looked at Ryder. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Work emergency?” Hazel asked.
“Yep.”
“A work emergency named Sybil,” Hazel muttered.
But Bill had already hightailed it out the back door like his ass was on fire.
I slid Hazel an amused glance. “You didn’t tell him he forgot his shoes and his dignity.”
“Nope,” she said cheerfully.
I laughed, and Hazel stood in the tub, sloshing around Hank’s feet to get to me, stepping between my legs. My hands went to her hips as she bent to kiss me—soft, warm, and full of mischief. Then, looking pleased with herself, she sat on my lap, straddling me.
I immediately tightened my grip on her so she couldn’t get away. Because yes, I lived here now, right between her thighs.
“Is this okay?” she asked. “Am I too heavy? Can you breathe?”
Could I? Yes.
Was I? Not even a little.
My mind was consumed with the memory of the last time I’d been between her thighs. My hands were on her hips, the pads of my thumbs brushing the bare skin between the hem of her T-shirt and her sleep shorts.
From the bathroom sink’s counter, Caleb stage-whispered, “Do you think they remember we’re here?”
“Shh,” Emma said. “How often do you get to see two love dorks in the wild?”
Ryder high-fived her.
First chance I got, I was going to high-five Ryder, right upside the back of his head. Sibling bonding: It’s important.
“I’ve got a question,” Caleb said. “A two-part question. One, is either of you ever going to tell us what the hell happened all those years ago that made you two not speak for over a decade? And two, what’s happening now?
Oh! And are you two doing it yet? Because there’s a pool at the office, and I intend to win. ”
Correction: I was going to have to kill both brothers. “That’s three questions.”
Hazel’s timer went off, and she jumped up. “Saved by the bell!” She eyed her phone. “And would you look at that? I’ve got stuff to do. Lots of stuff! Okay, well, buh-bye now—”