21. Tucker
The cab of my truck was quiet, save for the soft click of Dakota’s crochet hook and the steady hum of the engine. We were parked at the edge of a gravel lot, the old farmhouse just barely visible in the distance through the trees. The property we were staking out had seen better days, much like every lead we’d followed this week.
I glanced over at Dakota, biting back a smirk. She looked absolutely ridiculous—and somehow, incredibly adorable—with my night vision goggles perched on her nose like an oversized pair of sunglasses. A blanket was draped over her lap, and she was half-hidden beneath it, her hands busy crocheting the scarf she’d been working on.
I still wasn’t sure if she was making it for me or just messing with me, but watching her focus so intently on each stitch was strangely... calming.
“So, is this a typical Friday night activity for you, Magnum PI?” she asked, not looking up from her yarn. The night vision goggles were starting to slip, and she pushed them up on her nose.
I let out a soft groan, choosing not to take the bait with that sass. I adjusted my seat and rested my hand on the steering wheel. “It depends. If you mean sitting in my truck doing nothing, then yeah, it’s pretty close.”
She snorted, finally glancing over at me with an amused smile. “So, you do a lot of stakeouts?”
“It’s a big part of the job,” I admitted, shifting my focus back toward the farmhouse. “Sometimes it’s long hours of just... waiting for something to see.”
Dakota glanced around the inside of the truck, her expression thoughtful as she pulled her blanket up a little tighter around her. “So, why’s your truck so clean? If you spend all that time in here, I’d expect it to be messier. Like... snack bags, old coffee cups, maybe a random sock or something.”
I raised an eyebrow. “A sock? Just one?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. You know what I mean. Just... lived-in.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “If I’m going to spend more time in this truck than in my house, it might as well not smell like old coffee or gym socks. Plus, I don’t like my space to be cluttered. It’s hard to focus, and I’ve gotta be on my game out here.”
Dakota nodded, her attention drifting back to the yarn in her lap as she adjusted the stitches on the scarf. “That makes sense, I guess. So what’s a typical day like for you when you’re not chasin’ down treasure or getting shot at?”
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a little tension settle between my shoulder blades. “Honestly? A lot more boring than what you’ve seen so far.” I shot her a quick grin. “Sorry to disappoint.”
She laughed softly. “Is it? That is disappointin’. Tell me more.”
“Well,” I started, glancing out the window again. “We get a lot of insurance fraud cases, suspected adultery. Companies hire us to find out if someone’s faking an injury for a big payout, and individuals hire us to figure out if their spouse is cheating. Missing people or objects aren’t as common, but they still happen from time to time. Usually not as exciting as it sounds.”
“Who would’ve thought your time in a town like this would be more excitin’ than usual?”
I shrugged, trying to ignore the twist in my gut as I thought about going back to that life outside of this town. The one without her in it. “Colt’s the more analytical one, though, and I’m grateful for it. He doesn’t mind handling the invoicing, coordinating with the local police departments, keeping our licenses current. He’s the guy who handles the paperwork, while I... well, I’m the one who spends hours sitting in a truck waiting for something to happen. We both do interviews, but usually, I’m the one who gets them to talk.”
“Because you’re such a people-person?” she teased.
I snorted. “I think we both know Colt’s the people person. But sometimes the people we deal with need a different sort of person to get them to open up.”
“Like a scary lumberjack ninja?”
Chuckling, I shook my head.
Dakota’s fingers paused briefly on the yarn, and she looked up at me again, her eyes soft. “Sounds like you two make a good team.”
I nodded, staring straight ahead. “Yeah. We do.”
But as the silence stretched between us, I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on me. This—sitting here, making small talk about my day job—this wasn’t the conversation we needed to be having. This was too safe. Too normal. Or, rather, it was reminding me that life after this case was closed would be as safe and normal as it ever was, before she came into my life.
And right now? That was the last thing I wanted.
Before I could stop myself, I reached over and plucked the crochet hook right out of her hand, holding it just out of her reach. Her startled gasp was almost comical, and she turned to me, her eyes wide with mock outrage.
“Excuse me!”
I didn’t give her time to grab it back. Instead, I leveled my gaze on her, my voice low and laced with more emotion than I expected. “Are we really not going to talk about what happened at dinner?”
Her smile faltered, and I watched as her expression shifted—confusion morphing into something more serious, more vulnerable. Dakota stared at me for a second, her eyes flicking between my face and the crochet hook still in my hand. I could see her trying to escape the conversation I was forcing, but I wasn’t about to let her get away with it.
“Talk about what, now?” she asked, trying to play dumb, her voice a little too casual.
I raised an eyebrow. “You know what.”
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in the passenger seat. “Tucker, c’mon. We’re on a stakeout. Can’t we just chitchat and have a good time? Talk about stuff that doesn’t matter?”
I shook my head, not ready to let this drop. “Meaning, you think this matters.”
She sighed, her lips pressing into a thin line as she glanced out the window, avoiding my gaze. “I mean… even if it does, what’s the point, Tuck? We both know how this ends. You’re leavin’, and I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
I clenched my jaw, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary as I turned my attention back toward the dark house in front of us. We were sitting in the middle of nowhere, in a quiet truck, on a stakeout. But the tension between us was louder than anything I’d heard in days.
“It still matters,” I muttered, my voice hushed but firm. “And we should still talk about it.”
“Why? Because you think it’s your responsibility to ‘fix’ things between us before you go?”
“No,” I said, turning my head to meet her gaze again. “Because you’re acting like you couldn’t care less that this is ending, and you clearly do. You wouldn’t be sitting here with me if you didn’t.”
She blinked, the impact of my words hanging in the air between us. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to argue—but she couldn’t. Not this time.
“What do you want me to say, Tucker? That I’m upset about it? That I’m not sure how to deal with it? Because yeah, I feel that way. Every day. But what good is dwellin’ on it gonna do us? It’s a lot more fun to just have fun with you than to talk about how much it’s gonna crush me when you leave.”
I’d started this conversation, but I wasn’t at all prepared for the weight of those words. So, even though I opened my mouth to reply, no words came out.
She leaned forward, shaking her head. “We both knew what this was from the start. So, we either keep things light and fun, or we keep havin’ these conversations that lead us in sad little circles, makin’ things harder than they need to be.”
I watched her, my chest tightening with every word she said, and I hated that she was right. We were stuck in a situation we couldn’t change.
But that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
Silence stretched between us for a beat. I could feel her pulling away, putting up her walls again, and it riled me more than it should have. The man I was when I came into this strange little town was so far from the man on this stakeout that I hardly recognized myself.
I didn’t want walls. Not with her. Not now.
“So what?” I asked, my voice almost bitter. “We just pretend like none of it matters? Like it’s all casual and fun until I pack up and leave?”
Dakota shrugged, her smile forced as she reached for the blanket on her lap, pulling it tighter around herself. “If it means I get to have fun with you for a little longer, maybe I’m okay with that.”
There was a twinge of sadness in her eyes, and even though I could tell she was trying to hide it, whatever this was between us meant she didn’t stand a chance.
I started to reply—started to tell her… something, even though I didn’t know what. But then she sighed dramatically, throwing her head back against the seat. “You know what? Maybe I’ll stop bein’ your partner altogether and start workin’ against you, instead. Maybe I’ll start sabotagin’ the case from the inside out, so you’ll never leave Charlotte Oaks. You’ll be stuck here forever tryin’ to figure out what happened to the treasure.”
I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head at her ridiculousness even as I was grateful for a little of that fun she was so fond of. “You don’t think I’d give up on the case eventually and move on to the next one?”
She smirked. “Nah, I think you’d be happy for a reason to stay in Charlotte Oaks. Who knows? Maybe this town would grow on you. Like mold.”
I laughed, unable to hold it back this time. She always had a way of cutting through the tension, of finding the humor even when things were heavy. It was one of the things that’d first broken down my defenses, and right now, I was having a hard time remembering why I’d tried so hard not to fall for her in the first place.
Oh, right, because I was leaving.
But…
I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a low rumble. “You don’t have to sabotage anythin’ to make me stay, Wildcard. I’ve already got more reasons than I know what to do with. All you gotta do is ask.”
Her breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, the air between us was thick with something unspoken. Her eyes flicked to my mouth, and I could feel the pull between us, that undeniable force that had been there since the start. The tension, the chemistry—it was all still there, humming between us like a live wire.
And just like that, the argument dissolved into something else. Something neither of us could deny.
I didn’t wait for her to make the first move. I closed the distance between us, my hand slipping behind her neck as I pulled her in for a kiss that felt like it had been building for days—weeks, even.
Her lips met mine, soft but urgent, like we were both afraid to let go. The weight of everything we hadn’t said hung between us—not to mention the offer I’d just given her that I wasn’t sure she took seriously.
After all, I gave her the chance… and she hadn’t asked.
But for now, the kiss was enough to keep the rest of the world at bay. It wasn’t a solution. It wasn’t an answer. But for now, it was enough.