Chapter 21 #2
The words hadn’t even completely left my lips when they stopped dead in their tracks as the one man who’d lived inside my head for the last month stepped in from the mud room.
“Tallie, your chickens sure are cranky. One of them pecked the shit outta… me.” He was adjusting the flat bill hat on his head as he entered, but his words trailed off slightly as he caught sight of me across the room.
I felt it as our eyes locked onto each other. The pull. The draw. It wasn’t like it’d ever truly receded for me in the past three days, but seeing him this close again was like plucking at a tight string, the vibrations of that connection filtering out to us both.
I was distantly aware of Tallie eyeing us before she put her hands on her hips and addressed Tucker. “You probably did somethin’ stupid.”
That snapped his attention to her. “Excuse me?”
“With my girls. You probably did somethin’ stupid like bumble your way into their coop and make a real fool of yourself.”
“I—”
“You gotta be gentle with ’em. Treat ’em like the ladies they are.” Tallie continued. “Not just stomp into their home like some broody giant. Imagine you had some big, scary man bustin’ into your house. You’d be real feisty, too.”
Tucker flushed as though maybe that’d been exactly what he’d done and scowled. “They’re chickens.”
“They’re ladies,” she corrected. “I know those aren’t your preference, but a Southern boy like you still ought to know how’ta treat one.”
I was just about to slink backward out the door and hide away to drink my coffee on the porch—or my truck—when Tallie turned her attention on me. “Right, Jackson?”
“Huh?”
“Your momma taught you how to treat a lady, right?”
“Uh,” I hedged, glancing between her and Tucker. “I suppose?”
Tallie brightened at that, clapping her hands together.
“Well, ain’t that just fine!” She darted over to Tucker, swiping the basket of eggs he’d brought in from him.
“Jackson can teach you all about treating a lady away from my kitchen. Go on now. Scoot.” She gave him a quick shove against his back with her free hand, and Tucker stumbled forward a little dumbfoundedly.
“Now, Tallie, what the hell?” he protested.
“Aht—” Tallie stuck a finger up at him. “Don’t you be cursing at me in my kitchen, Tucker Legare.
I said scoot, so get.” She widened her eyes meaningfully, glancing between the two of us, and I cleared my throat.
Whiskey eyes landed on me, and I struggled for a second to remember how to breathe, but I managed to tilt my head toward the kitchen door.
Tucker sighed, low and defeated, adjusted the brim of his hat to cover his eyes, then he brushed past me.
I watched him step out into the dining room, then turned back to Tallie.
Truthfully, I was hoping she’d be forgiving and let me continue to sip at my morning brew in silence, but she flicked her fingers at me in the universal sign to get lost. Steeling myself, I lifted my mug to her in a bid farewell and followed Tucker.
He wasn’t in the dining room when I passed through the door, and I had a split second where I’d wondered if he’d actually left.
But as I stepped out onto the porch, unexpected relief washed through me to see Tucker’s form illuminated against the darkness from the light inside the foyer.
He was leaning against the railing of the porch, his head between his arms, looking so reminiscent of that first day when he’d told me the story of Raleigh’s death.
My heart clenched inside my chest. I still wanted this man, and I wasn’t ready to face the reality that I’d fucked up any chance with him. But time had run out.
“I gotta confess, my momma raised a cattleman. She didn’t teach me any more about how to treat a lady than she did to sew my own clothes,” I said, breaking the silence suspended between us as I came to stand beside him. “Guess I’m shit outta luck, too, huh? With the chickens?”
When Tucker didn’t respond, I tried again. “Did they get’cha good? Any battle wounds?”
At that, he stood up a little more and looked at me. “What are you doing, Jackson?”
“Making conversation?” It came out more as a question than a statement.
“Why?”
“Well, as I said, I don’t know much about treating ladies unless they’re cattlewomen, so I can’t quite give you the guidance Tallie was expecting of me—”
“No.” He cut me off. “Why do you want to talk with me? Aren’t you pissed at me?”
I blinked at him. Pissed? I had a whole lot of emotions swirling inside me when it came to Tucker Legare but pissed wasn’t one of them.
Slowly, I shook my head. “I’m not mad at you, Tucker.
Mostly I’m sorry.” At his confused look, I shifted to lean my elbow against the porch railing.
“I feel like I pressured you into what happened the other night. I realized I’ve been pushing you from the beginning, and I’m sorry.
You shouldn’t feel forced into something you’re not ready for. ”
Those amber hues looked me over, his normally grumpy expression so unreadable in the dark shades of the early morning gloom, and I held my breath while I waited for what he’d have to say.
Finally, Tucker spoke. “You didn’t pressure me, Jackson.
I was the one trying to force things. I thought you’d be pissed at me for taking advantage. ”
“What do you mean?”
Tucker opened his mouth to speak, but tires on gravel alerted us just before the twin beams of headlights pulled up to the front porch. Granger hopped out of his truck, looking at the two of us with interest as he strode up to the house.
“We havin’ a party an’ I wasn’t invited? I’m hurt,” he drawled, taking the porch steps two at a time.
“No party. Just catching him up on Goldie.” Tucker grunted.
I lifted my mug to him in greeting and took a long sip instead of offering any explanation of my own.
Granger glanced between us again but lifted his hands placatingly. “Fine, keep your secrets. I’m getting coffee.”
When the front doors snicked shut behind him, I let out a slow breath through my nose, glancing at Tucker from the corner of my eye.
Would he pick up our conversation again?
Small slivers of light were beginning to poke through the murky gray of the overcast sky, which meant more people would be making their way to the farmhouse for breakfast. After several long seconds of silence where neither of us said anything, I stood up straight, rasping a knuckle against the wood of the porch.
“I really am sorry, Tucker. I hope you can forgive me, and if you’ve ever ready one day to talk about more for us, you’ll know where to find me. ”
He didn’t say anything in response, so I took that as my cue and moved to make my way back inside.
But just as I was about to leave, Tucker’s hand wrapped around my wrist, halting me in my steps.
The heat of his hand was such a stark contrast from the icy feel of it from the other night, and it sent a shiver along my spine.
“Come to my cabin tonight. After dinner.”