Chapter 8 #2
“I’m no chef,” I tease. “Maybe here.” I bend to pull open the lower drawer and—voilà—a large sauté pan. I tug it free. “This is perfect.”
“Perfect,” he murmurs.
There’s something in his voice that makes me pause. When I straighten, I catch him looking—not at the pan. His gaze drags slowly upward from where I was bent, heat unmistakable. My breath catches despite myself.
He clears his throat quickly. “Uh. Yeah. Busted. Sorry.”
He doesn’t look sorry. I laugh it off, though my skin feels warm. “You know we can’t.”
“I do.” He runs a hand through his hair and gestures to his eyes. “But around you, these have a mind of their own.”
God. When was the last time a man ever made me feel so wanted…so desired? I turn back to the stove before he can see the effect that has on me. Butter hits the pan with a soft hiss.
“Focus, Tuck.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
The boys’ laughter drifts in from the other room. I hum softly as I cook, the rhythm of it soothing. Tuck sets the table—silverware clinking, plates sliding across wood—and then disappears down the hall.
Seconds later I hear shrieks. The unmistakable sound of boys discovering something exciting. I shake my head, smiling. He’s shown them the games room, no doubt. Then I hear heavy footsteps overhead, Tuck giving them the grand tour, showing them where they’ll sleep.
I cook in the quiet that follows, my mind wandering to homework, schedules, logistics. To reality. Twenty minutes later, I call out, “Dinner.”
My three guys all come running.
Three…
With Tuck in the mix, the words echo in my head differently tonight and I can’t deny that I like the sound. Why does it feel so natural to loop Tuck into that? To picture him in the middle of us like he belongs there?
They come racing in, Tuck right behind them, grinning like a kid. Josh clutches Marbles protectively to his chest.
I point immediately. “Rule number one. Marbles does not eat at the table.”
Josh groans dramatically but obeys, settling Marbles onto the little bed in the nook off the kitchen. “Be a good boy,” he whispers.
We all sit, and beneath the small table, Tuck’s knee brushes mine. I inhale sharply. Neither of us moves away.
He gives me a soft smile and inhales. “This smells amazing, Maria.”
“Dig in,” I say, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel.
“Mom, this is so good,” Lucas announces around a mouthful of chicken.
I wag my finger. “Do not talk with your mouth full, Lucas.”
Tuck grins at that, watching me like I’m performing some fascinating magic trick.
“What?” I narrow my eyes at him.
He doesn’t speak, just taps his lips and mimics chewing properly.
I laugh despite myself. “Okay. Rule number two. You do not ever just show up here without texting Tuck first. This is his space. We respect that.”
“Got it.” Josh gives a captain’s salute.
“How many times a week do you want them to come?” I ask, trying to keep things practical. Structured.
He leans back slightly. “I know you boys are busy with school and extracurriculars. What works for you?”
Minding his manners Lucas’s fork stalls an inch in front of his mouth. “We’re good Tuesday and weekends.”
“I have school Tuesday,” I remind them. “I need the car.”
Josh frowns, shoulders slumping. “So just weekends?” He glances at Marbles curled in a tiny ball. “Marbles won’t even remember me.”
The ache in his voice squeezes something inside me.
Tuck doesn’t hesitate. “When I don’t have a home or away game on Tuesday, I can pick you up and bring you here.”
Josh’s face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. “Really, Tuck?”
“If it’s okay with your mother.” His eyes shift to mine, as my boys look at him like he hung the moon…and that’s damn dangerous.
“I…we don’t want to put you out.”
He shrugs. “If I’m home, it’s not a problem.”
The boys are so excited. What can I say to that.
If I show resistance they’ll be suspicious, so I simply nod, half surprised that Tuck would do that, half not at all.
He’s always there for everyone on his team, the glue that holds them together, but getting close to my boys?
That’s a line he’s been careful about not crossing. And yet…here he is.
Here we are.
“Okay,” I begin, and we move through the rest of the rules, friends coming over, what happens when Tuck’s on the road, curfews, snacks, quiet hours… They agree to everything as we eat, and thirty minutes later, the plates are clean, and I start to rise.
“Nope,” Tuck says firmly, holding up a hand. “You cooked. The boys and I clean.” He gestures toward the hall with a playful smirk. “Why don’t you go get a start on your homework?”
“Are you sure?” I ask, skeptical.
He turns me gently and nudges me with his shoulder. I laugh. Damn. A girl could get used to this. But I know better. I start down the hall toward the library, the quiet stretching as I move away from the kitchen. Then—ding—the doorbell rings, startling me. I pause, tilting my head toward the sound.
“Maria, can you get that?” Tuck calls from the kitchen.
I hurry to the door and pull it open, only to be met with a whirlwind of voices on the front steps. Stella screams, “Where’s Marbles?” before barreling past me like a tiny tornado, followed closely by little Grant and Zoe.
“What…what was that?” I ask, laughing as Gina leans in for a hug, her laughter mingling with mine.
“That,” she says, gesturing at the chaos still spilling into the house. “Was chaos. Poor Tuck isn’t going to know what hit him.”
I greet Ash, Tanner, and Maeve as they tumble inside. Once the door is closed, the house fills with that warm, chaotic hum only kids and family can create. Tuck comes into the hall, dish towel draped over one arm, drying his hands.
“Hey guys, come on in.” He waves us toward him. “We’re all in here.”
I glance at him, and even as he disappears back into the kitchen, I can’t help myself. I keep watching, staring at the spot he just occupied.
“Uh…” Gina’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn to find her grinning mischievously. “Why are you staring at Tuck with your vagina?”