Chapter 24
Ash
“ A sh…” Tucker peers up at me as he comes to a stop beside me as I finish filling my water bottle.
“What’s up, little man?”
“I wanna draw,” he announces firmly.
“Okay, then let’s get you some paper and colored pencils, and we’ll draw.”
“Wanna draw horses.”
“Do it. I love that.” He smiles, and it makes my chest warm. God, I love this little dude so much already. “How about we go down to the barn, so you can look at the horses while you draw them?”
His eyes widen as he jumps up and down. “Yeah, yeah, yeah!”
I chuckle at his excitement. “Okay, you go get dressed out of those jammies, and I’ll gather all the supplies we need, pack some snacks, and let your dad know what we’re doing, and we can meet back here in ten. Deal?”
“Deal!” Tuck shouts, already halfway down the hall.
I purposely start with the gathering of the supplies first, finding Tucker’s Lion King backpack in the hall closet. Stuffing it with a couple of sketch pads and the crayons and colored pencils—because if I know Tuck at all, he’ll want a variety—I head into the kitchen, setting it on the counter as I get to fixing some sandwiches. I decide to go with ham and cheese today, because I’m a bit peanut butter and jelly’d out, which I didn’t even think was possible. The lunch box is in the pantry, so after I grab that and a couple of bags of goldfish, I open the freezer for an ice pack out, setting it inside the pale first before I load in the food. Sandwiches, crackers, apples, some pineapple I sliced last night, and because I’m the coolest nanny ever, I top it off with a baggy filled with double-stuffed Oreos.
Once I’m finished, I zip the lunch box, shoving it inside the backpack next to the coloring supplies before zipping that too. I pull my phone out of my pocket, my insides twisting as I unlock it and find the text thread between Finn and me. Since the night in the living room two weeks ago when I officially put a stop to our little tryst, if I can even call it that, we haven’t spoken to each other much, except in a professional manner.
Which is fine.
Professional is good. It’s safe. It leaves no room for error or slip-ups.
But I can’t help but feel like it’s a cold war within the four walls of this house. It’s awkward, and I hate it, despite it being my decision. A decision I still stand by, even if it fills me with guilt. When I told Finn we needed to pump the brakes, I saw the hurt on his face, even if he tried to hide it. I saw it, and then he had to go and tell me he didn’t agree with it, but he’ll respect it anyway. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, though. For him, this is lust. It’s experimenting with this new discovery of his. Purely physical, nothing more. My guilt makes no sense. It’s not like he had actual feelings for me or wanted to pursue anything on a deeper level.
This is a prime example of being damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Everything I did with him riddled me with guilt for my sister and the betrayal I know she’d feel, yet putting a stop to it—for very good, valid reasons, might I add—fills me with guilt for an entirely different reason. I can’t win.
Ever since that night, Finn hasn’t been his usual grumpy self, which makes me feel worse. In the brief times when we do communicate, he’s nice to me. No eye rolling, no jaw clenching. Finn’s being a perfectly appropriate and kind boss, and I fucking hate it.
I hate the way I still want him. The way I still replay the times we hooked up over and over obsessively, like they were life changing or something.
I hate the way those memories make me harder than anything.
What I hate the most, though, above all else, is the fact that it’s become abundantly clear in the last two weeks that this isn’t some little crush and it isn’t purely physical for me. I have feelings for Finn. Real, deep feelings that have no business being there. And no matter how much I refuse to believe it or give the thought space in my mind, I’ve started to fall for him.
But that’s crazy…isn’t it?
How can I feel so strongly about somebody I met not even that long ago? How can a handful of nights spent talking and listening to music, and a couple of intimate moments lead to something like that ? I can’t be feeling this way, it makes no sense. Not only that, but it’s pathetic. He’s off limits. Unattainable.
Leave it to me to fall for somebody I can’t have. Not gonna lie, that kind of tracks for me and my luck with men.
I shake my head free of all the self-deprecating thoughts and type out a message to Finn.
Me: Heads up, Tucker wants to channel his inner Leo DiCap and paint (draw) the horses like one of his French girls. We’re heading to the barn for the afternoon.
Setting the phone on the counter, I grab Tucker’s water bottle out of the cabinet and fill it up with ice and water before refilling mine too. My phone buzzes, and my heart skips a beat at the sound, knowing it’s Finn. I drag in a deep breath and pick it up.
Finn: Won’t pretend to know what the hell that means, but okay. Have fun.
Hearing Tucker’s feet pitter-patter against the hardwood floor as he runs down the hall, and I don’t respond to the message. I don’t need to; I told him our plans, and that’s all that really needed to be said.
When Tucker rounds the corner, I bite back a laugh at the ridiculous outfit he’s chosen for the day. He’s in a pair of neon green shorts with sharks all over them, a navy-blue shirt with a giant chicken in the center, and cowboy boots. Boy cannot match to save his life, and I love it so much. Finn always gets annoyed by it, insisting that he change into something that does match, but I don’t know why it matters. Let the kid wear what he wants. It’s not like we’re going to town. Most of the time, he’s literally playing here at the house or somewhere on the ranch. Who cares if he looks ridiculous in cowboy boots and shorts?
I’m a firm believer in letting kids be kids for as long as possible, and letting them express themselves however they want—within reason. If this outfit speaks to Tucker in some way, who the hell am I to get in the way of that?
“Ready, T?”
He punches his little closed fist into the air with enthusiasm, yelling, “Ready!”
Rustling the hair atop his head as I walk over to where the keys hang, I swipe mine off its designated hook. “Okay, let’s hit the road.”
I consider bringing Bubba, but a quick glance out the back door shows me he’s paws deep in his newest Kong toy and loving life, so I decide against it. He can hang with the chickens while we’re gone. The drive from the house to the barn takes less than three minutes, but by the time I park and we climb out, Tucker’s wincing as he alternates peering up at me and staring down at the ground.
“What’s with the face, my guy?” I ask, hoisting the backpack over my shoulder.
He kicks at the dirt with his boot. “I changed my mind,” is all he mumbles.
“About what? You don’t wanna draw horses?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay, then changed your mind about what?”
Tucker peers up at me, eyes squinting from the sun, and I can’t help but notice yet again how much he looks like his dad. “I wanna draw by the creek,” he says with a huff.
I shrug, a grin tugging on my lips. “Let’s do it!”
“Really?” His little eyes widen, and his smile showcases all his straight, white teeth.
“Heck yeah, little man. We go where the muse takes us.”
Tuckers brows scrunch in an adorably confused way. “What’s a muse?”
“It’s your inspiration as an artist.”
“But I’m not an artist.”
I squat down to get eye level with him. “You’re absolutely an artist, Tuck, and a damn good one. Never forget that.”
He lets out a small giggle. “You said a bad word, Ash.”
“You know what? I did.” I chuckle. “Oops.”
“It’s okay. Daddy says bad words sometimes too.”
“What a nice surprise,” a deep, twangy voice off to the side says, startling me.
Glancing to the right, I watch as Gentry saunters over to us. Dark shades shield his eyes from the sun, and he’s wearing the same Stetson I always see him wear. The genes in the Moore family are truly unfair. I’ve never met a more attractive family in my damn life.
“Hello, sir.” I stand up, offering him a smile. “Tucker’s in the mood to draw today. Was going to see if it’s okay if we borrow one of the horses to ride down to the creek with?”
“Enough with the sir crap,” he grunts. “You can call me Gentry. And ’course, it’s okay if you take a horse. Need help tackin’ one up?”
“Uh, sure. If you’ve got time.” I breathe out a laugh. “Finn showed me what to do before, but I always mess it up. Maybe one day I’ll know what I’m doing, but today is not that day.”
“C’mon.” Gentry nods toward the barn, and Tucker and I follow him inside. “No worries, son. It can be confusin’ at first, but once you get the hang of it, you’ll be able to do it in your sleep.”
Tucker and I watch in awe as Gentry gets the horse ready to ride, fitting her with all the equipment she’s gotta wear. He does it so quickly, it’s impressive.
I should probably update Finn on the change of plans. Except when I reach into my pocket to pull out my phone, it’s not there.
Shit. I must’ve left it on the counter before we left.
Whatever. It’s fine. We aren’t leaving the property, so it’ll be okay.
Handing me the reins once he’s finished, Gentry asks, “Need help getting up there?”
The question is genuine and holds zero judgement, but I can’t help but feel embarrassed. Everybody here is so skilled with all things ranch life, and I stick out like a sore thumb. “No, that’s okay. I swear, I know how to at least get on her and ride.” I laugh, then wince at how awkward it sounds to my own ears.
Gentry chuckles, the sound deep and throaty. It reminds me of Finn, and my throat tightens.
It’s a warm, sunny day, but there’s a slight breeze that makes the ride down to the creek nice and cool. Tucker and I don’t ride horseback very often, but every time that we have, he sits in front of me and holds on so well. He clearly has plenty more experience on horses than I do, which is kind of sad, considering how much older I am than him. But I suppose growing up on a ranch with a bunch of seasoned cowboys will do that to you.
Once we’re down at the spot we typically hang out, I tie up the horse, making sure she can’t wander off on us. Thankfully, that’s never happened, but I could totally see it happening to me at some point. Losing a huge horse seems on par for me.
“Want to eat or draw first?” I ask Tucker as I unload the backpack.
He ponders for a moment with his head tilted to the side. “Draw!”
“You got it, dude.”
I brought a crossword puzzle to work on, but I barely get any of it accomplished because watching Tucker is way more interesting. His tongue pokes out of his mouth as he concentrates on the sketch, his gaze alternating between the horse near the tree and the sketch pad in his lap. He hums from time to time, which I think is the cutest thing ever, and every once in a while, he’ll pause to show me what he’s done so far. I’ll give it to him…for how young he is, he draws pretty well. Probably better than I could.
After about forty-five minutes, he pauses, setting the paper beside him as he announces, “I’m hungry.”
“Me too. Let’s eat.”
I hand him a sandwich, his water bottle, and an apple to start before unwrapping the other sandwich. For the most part, we eat in silence, both of us gazing out over the creek at the birds that fly back and forth. It’s gorgeous out here. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the views.
“Do you like living here?” Tucker asks me, the question taking me by surprise.
“I do like living here. Do you?”
He nods. “Yeah. Do you like it better than where you lived before?”
Thinking about the question for a moment, I finally say, “I liked living there in a different way, but I think I do, like living here better, that is.”
“How was it different?”
I’m realizing that I don’t know if Tucker has ever been outside of Wolf Creek. How do I explain city living to a little boy who’s only ever known the country?
“You know how here, there’re a lot of open fields and farm animals, and not a lot of stores or buildings?”
He nods, chomping down on his sandwich.
“In Portland, it’s the opposite,” I explain. “Lots of stores, lots of houses close together, and not a lot of farmland. It’s busier, a lot of people walking around with places to go.”
“Oh, like when we went out to dinner on Easter after Uncle Hollis burned the ham.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, probably like that, but more.”
Tucker’s face scrunches up. “I don’t think I’d like that.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely something you gotta get used to.”
“Well, I like that you’re here.”
My chest squeezes. “You do?”
“Yeah.” He nods, mid-chew on his apple. “I like havin’ you live with us.”
That’s so damn sweet, I can’t even get on him about talking while chewing. “Thank you, T. I like living with you too.”
Once he swallows, he grabs his water bottle and takes a big sip the way all kids do, out of breath by the time he twists the cap back on. His upper lip is wet and red from the suction from the bottle. I’ve always enjoyed being around kids; working around them was a no-brainer, but something about Tucker feels different. I love all the kids I’ve worked around, but with Tucker, it’s like he’s family to me, which is probably weird, considering I’m just a nanny to him.
But then he blurts out something that has me swallowing my own tongue.
“Maybe you can be my mommy.”
The sentence is spoken so nonchalantly, and he’s not even paying me any attention as he picks his apple back up and takes a big ol’ bite. Meanwhile, my heart is hammering as I wonder if I heard him right.
“What?”
“My mommy,” he says again, this time his eyes finding mine. “I don’t have one, and how cool would it be if you were?”
My throat tightens with emotion as the backs of my eyes sting. That’s the sweetest thing anybody has ever said to me. But my heart hurts for Tucker hearing him say he doesn’t have a mom.
“So cool,” I croak, a smile spreading.
“I think daddy would like that too.”
Err, what? “Why do you say that, bud?”
“He smiles a lot now that you live with us.”
Give this kid an award for the number of times he’s able to make my heart pound harder without even realizing it.
“I don’t know about that,” I murmur, waving a hand in front of me.
“It’s true,” Tucker persists.
Goddamnit, I don’t need to know that.
“Let’s finish our lunch, so you can get back to being an artist,” I say as steadily as I can, my stomach in knots.
God-fucking-damnit.
Now Finn and his beautiful freaking smile are front and center in my mind.
I’m doomed.