CHAPTER FOUR
Tucker
I shouldn’t have been at the clinic.
Again.
Two trips down the mountain in less than a week when I’d been avoiding the place for months. And for what? To drive Emily to pick up her car?
I should’ve just let the garage call her. I should’ve stayed on my mountain where I belonged.
But here I was anyway.
The parking lot was half-full when I pulled in. I sat in my truck for a solid minute, hands on the steering wheel, staring at the clinic entrance like it might disappear before my eyes.
This was stupid. Unnecessary. I’d already crossed too many lines with her.
Ordering her not to come back on my mountain.
Stopping to help her when she’d disobeyed.
Fucking kissing her.
I couldn’t get the feel of her out of my mind. Her taste. Her scent.
And the image of her sitting on the hood of her car, eating an apple like she had all the time in the world. The way she’d pushed back when I’d tried to intimidate her. The self-doubt I could see bleeding through every time I got too close.
In short, I couldn’t get Emily Carr out of my mind.
Her soft body and sharp tongue and those eyes that saw too damn much. She was the kind of woman most men were too stupid to appreciate.
And I had no business being one of them who did.
After I’d dropped her off, I’d gone back to my cabin, paced for an hour, then called Joe’s Garage. I’d had her car towed, her tire patched and told Joe to keep his mouth shut about who’d covered it.
Then I’d laid awake most of the night trying to convince myself I’d done it because it was the right thing to do. Not because the thought of her stranded on that road made something inside me want to move mountains to protect her.
And certainly not because I wanted an excuse to see her again.
I climbed out of the truck before I could change my mind and headed for the entrance.
Inside, the clinic hummed with activity—patients in the waiting room, staff moving between rooms.
Mandy looked up from the reception desk, her eyes widening when she saw me. “Tucker Barrett. Back again. Should I be concerned or impressed?”
I ignored the commentary. “Emily working?”
Her eyebrows rose, and I saw the knowing look on her face. The same look she’d had last time. Like she could see right through me. “She’s finishing up with a patient. Want me to let her know you’re here?”
“Yeah.”
“This medical or personal?”
My jaw tightened. “Personal.”
That earned me a full grin. “I’ll let her know.”
I waited by the door, trying to ignore the curious looks from the waiting room. It was a small town and everyone in it would know the scared mountain man had been here within the hour.
Let them talk.
The hallway door opened, and Emily walked out. She stopped when she saw me, surprise flashing across her face before something warmer—something that looked almost like happiness—replaced it.
She was wearing scrubs again. Pink today, with her hair in that braid, and a few curls were already escaping around her face. She looked tired but pretty, and when our eyes met, I felt that same pull. That same magnetic draw that terrified me.
“Tucker?” She walked toward me, concern already forming in her expression. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
Before that genuine worry in her voice could undo me completely, I cut her off. “I’m fine. I came to give you a ride.”
Her brow furrowed. “A ride? To where?”
“Joe’s Garage. Your car’s ready.”
Understanding dawned in her expression, followed by confusion. “Wait. I haven’t even called them yet. How is my car—” She stopped, her eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”
“I had it towed last night. After I dropped you off.”
I watched emotions flicker across her face—surprise, then understanding, then something that looked like frustration mixed with something softer.
She placed her hands on her hips. “You had my car towed.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Tucker—” She stopped, glanced around at the waiting room where people were definitely listening, then lowered her voice. “Can we talk about this outside?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Your car is fixed and I’m here to take you to pick it up.”
Her jaw set in that stubborn line I was starting to recognize. “I need to get my purse.”
“No, you don’t.” I knew she’d be pissed when she found out I’d bought her not one, but two new tires and had Joe put them on already.
“Tucker.” The way she said my name—exasperated, firm, with just a hint of something else—made my chest tight.
“Fine. Get your stuff.” She disappeared back down the hallway, and I saw Mandy watching me with barely concealed amusement.
“What?” I growled.
“Nothing. Just enjoying the show.” She grinned. “Emily’s got you all kinds of twisted up, doesn’t she?”
I didn’t dignify that with a response.
Emily came back a minute later, purse over her shoulder, jacket in hand. “Okay. Let’s go have this conversation somewhere private.”
I followed her outside, aware of the looks we were getting and that the gossip mill would be working overtime tonight. I realized I should care about that more than I did.
The second we were in the parking lot she turned on me. “You can’t just do things like that without asking.”
“Like what? Help?”
“Yes.” Her voice rose slightly, and I saw color creep into her cheeks. Not from embarrassment—from genuine frustration. “You can’t just have my car towed and my tire fixed without asking me first.”
“I didn’t ask permission to stop and help you yesterday either.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because—” She stopped, searching for words, and I could see the frustration building in her. “Because that was just being a decent person. This is too much.”
“Getting your car towed and fixed is too much?”
Her eyes flashed. “Yes! You had no right to—”
I took a step closer, and I saw her breath hitch. “From where I’m standing, you needed help, and I provided it.”
“The point is I can take care of myself.” The words came out sharper than I think she intended. I saw her take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I’m not some damsel in distress who needs rescuing.”
Something in the way she said it—the defensiveness, the hurt underneath—made me pause. It made me really look at her.
“Who made you feel like accepting help makes you weak?” My hands tightened at my sides. “Some ex-boyfriend? Because if that was the case—”
She looked away, jaw tight. “That’s not what this is about.”
“Yeah, it is.” I moved closer, close enough that I could smell that floral scent again. Close enough to see the way her pulse jumped in her throat. “Someone made you feel like you have to do everything alone. Like needing anything from anyone is a failure.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” I let the question hang between us.
“Because I’m looking at a woman who drove up a mountain alone to deliver medication.
Who sat on the side of the road with a flat tire trying to figure out how to handle it herself.
Who’s fighting me tooth and nail right now because accepting help—the little that I gave—feels like weakness. ”
Her eyes snapped back to mine, and I saw the vulnerability there. The truth I’d hit without meaning to.
“I’m used to taking care of myself,” she said quietly. “I raised my brother while my mom worked two jobs. I paid for nursing school by working doubles at a diner. I don’t know how to... not be the one handling everything.”
The admission did something to me. I wanted to pull her close and tell her she didn’t have to anymore. That someone wanted to take care of her for once.
And that someone was me.
But I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t promise things I didn’t know how to give.
“Then let me make it easy,” I said. “Get in the truck. Let me drive you to Joe’s. That’s it. Nothing more.”
“Why?” she asked quietly. “Why does it matter to you?”
Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because you walked into my life and made me want things I’d given up on. Because the thought of you stranded on that mountain makes me want to break things.
But I couldn’t say any of that. So instead, I said, “Because you helped me. When I didn’t want it. When I was being an ass about it. You pushed past all my bullshit and did it anyway.”
“That’s my job.”
“No. Your job was to drop off medication. Everything else—the way you didn’t flinch when I told you to leave, how you helped me at the clinic—that was you being a good person.
” I watched her face as I spoke, saw the way color crept into her cheeks.
“So let me return the favor. Let me do something for you without it being a big deal.”
“But it is a big deal,” she said softly. “To me.”
“Why?”
“Because no one...” She stopped and bit her lip. “Because I’m used to being the one who takes care of everyone else. People don’t usually... they don’t think about me.”
The vulnerability in those words hit me harder than it should have. Made me want things I had no right wanting.
“Then they’re idiots,” I said flatly.
She blinked up at me, surprised.
“Get in the truck, Emily.”
For a moment, we just stood there. Then she nodded. “Okay.”
She climbed into the passenger side, and immediately the cab felt too small. Too full of her—that scent, the soft sound of her breathing, the way she tucked a loose curl behind her ear.
The drive to Joe’s was quiet. Not uncomfortable but loaded with everything we weren’t saying. I could feel her looking at me, could sense her trying to figure me out.
Good luck with that. I was still trying to figure myself out.
We both got out once we reached the lot and Joe emerged from the garage, wiping his hands on a rag. His grin widened when he saw us together.
“Tucker! And you must be Emily. Car’s all set.”
“Thank you so much,” Emily said, moving toward her car to inspect it. “How much do I owe you?”
“Already settled up.” Joe shot me a look that was pure amusement.
I watched Emily’s back stiffen. She turned slowly to face me. “You already paid.”
“Yes.”
“Tucker—”
“It’s done, Emily.”
“I don’t care if it’s done.” That fire was back in her eyes, the stubborn set to her jaw. “I’m paying you back.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
Joe was openly grinning now. “You two want me to give you some privacy for this?”
“No,” I said at the same time Emily said, “Yes.”
Joe laughed and disappeared back into the garage, still chuckling.
Emily turned to face me fully, hands on her hips. “You had no right to pay for my car without asking me first.”
“I didn’t need your permission.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“How what works?” I took a step toward her, and she held her ground.
“This. Whatever this is.” She gestured between us, frustrated. “You can’t just... do things for me and expect me to be okay with it.”
“Then learn,” I said, closing the distance between us. “Starting now.”
She looked up at me, eyes wide, lips parted like she was about to continue to argue. And I couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t stand the space between us. Couldn’t fight what I’d been feeling since the moment she’d knocked on my door.
I grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her.
She made a sound—surprise or protest or need, I couldn’t tell—and then her hands were on my chest. Her mouth opened under mine, and I deepened the kiss, pouring days of wanting into it. Days of trying to convince myself to stay away.
She tasted sweet, like bubble gum, and when her tongue touched mine heat shot straight through me. I angled her head, taking the kiss deeper, harder. Her body was soft against mine, curves pressing into me in ways that made my blood run hot.
She was making soft sounds now. Her hands lid up my shoulders, nails digging in through my shirt. I had to fight the urge to lift her up, wrap her legs around me and take this somewhere private where I could explore every inch of her.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. Her eyes were dazed, her lips swollen, and the sight of her like that—flushed and wanting—nearly undid me.
“Tucker,” she whispered.
I tilted my head back, eyes closed, trying to think past the want still coursing through me.
We stood there, her hands still gripping my shirt. The rest of the world had disappeared—Joe’s garage, the parking lot, everything. It was just us and this moment and the truth hanging between us.
I wanted her. God, how I wanted her.
But I knew I couldn’t have her. For so many reasons. Starting with the fact that I wasn’t a man who could love her like she deserved.
I took a step back, forcing myself to let her go before I did something stupid. Kiss her again. Pull her into my truck and take her back to my cabin and—
“Go back to work, Emily.”
She blinked, still looking dazed. “What?”
“Go. Before I change my mind about letting you leave.”
Color flooded her cheeks, and I saw the moment she understood. It didn’t help my control when the same heat coursing through me flared in her eyes.
“This isn’t over,” she said quietly.
“No,” I agreed. “It’s not.”
She climbed into her car, started the engine. I watched her pull out of the lot and stood there in the parking lot trying to process what had just happened.
I’d kissed Emily Carr. Twice now. This time, I had grabbed her and kissed her in broad daylight where anyone driving by could have seen.
And she’d kissed me back. Again.
She’d pulled me closer instead of pushing me away and made those sounds that would haunt my dreams.
I climbed into my truck and sat there, hands gripping the wheel, trying to get my body under control. Trying to think past the want.
This was dangerous. Being near her, tasting her. It was making me want things I’d given up on. It was making me feel things I’d thought were dead.
Making me hope.
And hope was the most dangerous thing of all I man like me could have. It broke down the walls I’d put firmly in place between me and the world. Between women like Emily. Sweet, innocent and so damn sexy my body ached every time I thought of her.
But as I drove back up the mountain, back to my empty cabin, all I could think about was the way she’d looked at me after that kiss.
Like I’d rocked her world.
Like maybe, just maybe, I was worth the risk.