Chapter 4
TUCKER
MY LEG is fucking killing me. The physical therapist pushed hard today. I told Kinley not to pull over when we saw the woman standing in front of her car on the side of the road.
Her exact words were, “Take the fucking stick out of your ass, Tuck, I’m not leaving a woman stranded on the side of the road. Especially at night.” She even punctuated it with a huff and cursed under her breath about men being self-centered assholes sometimes.
In my previous life, the one before the bomb that upended everything, I would have steered the truck to the side of the road myself. Then, I would have flirted with the beautiful redhead to see how far things would go.
But now, I’m in too much pain, and I don’t have the energy or the desire.
It’s no use arguing with my sister, though, she’s going to do what she wants, all the while giving me the middle finger if I give her too much pushback. There was a time when our behavior was so similar that we almost mirrored each other.
When she turned the truck off, she grabbed my arm before I reached for the door handle. “Let me get out first and put her at ease before your grumpy ass walks back there. I want to help her, not scare the shit out of her.”
Proof that there is some hospitality left in me, however small it is, I sat in the truck and waited for Kinley to walk back there. All the while, I watched our surroundings like a hawk to make sure there was no danger to my sister and unborn nephew.
When I tell the woman nicely that she stupidly drove all her fucking coolant out of her car while ignoring the engine light, I feel the shift in atmosphere. I can sense fear like it’s a living, breathing thing coming from the woman standing next to Kinley.
Fear is an emotion I’m familiar with. I’ve watched it drain from the eyes of dying teammates, and I’ve felt it myself when I thought they were going to cut my leg off.
Becoming hyper-alert, I straighten to protect my sister if it’s needed, looking around the area for a threat. Only the woman is staring at my waist with wide eyes, and fear is in every line of her face.
Kinley steps between me and her, her hands up. “It’s okay, Tucker was in the military, he always carries a gun.”
The woman’s smooth pale skin practically glows in the dark, and I wonder if she’s gone pale from fear, or if her skin is always milky white like that.
A long, thick red braid hangs down her front to her curvy waist, the baggy cream-colored sweater hanging off one shoulder accentuates the curve of her hips from her waist.
If I didn’t hate my life so much, I would be trying to pick her up right now.
Her eyes move over Kinley’s shoulder to look at me before she looks at Kinley again. She takes a step back like I’m some kind of threat, like I’m going to shoot her or something. Anger washes over me, and I want to give her a piece of my mind.
The woman swallows, her delicate throat moves with the action before she clears it. “Does he need a gun?”
Narrowing my eyes at her, I cross my arms over my chest. Of course, I’m going to keep my gun on me on the side of the goddamn highway at night.
“How would I know you’re not a threat to my pregnant sister when she stepped out of the truck trying to be nice?
Against my better judgment. It goes both ways, lady.
Not to mention possible bobcats or coyotes.
” My tone is sharper than I intended, but for fuck’s sake, I’m not in the mood for this tonight.
Kinley waves her hand, snapping her knuckles on my chest to stop me from talking. “Don’t mind him, he’s just being cautious. It’s true, though, it’s good to be careful at night when the coyotes are out looking for food.”
Her eyes dart around us, looking out into the dark like something might jump out at her.
She’s definitely not from around here. If not a little overly jumpy.
Another sharp pain travels up my leg to my hip, and all I want to do is go home so I can soak in bath salts with a strong fucking drink and go to bed.
I don’t have time for this judgmental bullshit. It’s not my fault or my problem that she thinks I’m a threat to her. She’s the one in a dangerous position on the side of the road at night, unprotected. That ignorance is all on her.
“Whatever.” I grumble and wave my hand toward the motor under the hood. “Look, lady, this car isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, you’ve got some major repairs ahead of you. Do you want a ride or not? I want to get home.”
Kinley slowly turns her head to glare at me over her shoulder and then turns back to the beauty in front of us. “We can drop you somewhere, where would you like to go?”
She cautiously looks away from me to answer Kinley. “Is there a nice hotel close? The gas station clerk said Claremore would be my best bet, but I don’t know how far away I am.”
“Yes, I know just the place. My friend owns a cute little bed-and-breakfast in town, we can drop you there. Do you need help getting anything from your car?”
Fuck me. Now I have to carry shit.
An unintentional growl rattles my chest, only because I’m in so much pain right now I could win a fight with a bear. When both sets of eyes look at me like I’m an asshole, I feel like shit, but not enough to apologize.
Kinley narrows her eyes at me and glares like she could pummel me and slowly turns around again.
But when I look at the woman, she seems to fold in on herself a bit.
She’s obviously scared and probably feels totally alone, and I’m making it worse like a giant asshole. So, I look away and keep my mouth shut.
She clears her throat again. “Uhm, just one bag, but it’s not heavy, I can carry it myself.”
Guilt twists in my gut, and I clench my teeth. Kinley tells me all the time that I’m acting like an asshole, but most of the time I ignore her. This is one of those times I can feel her thinking it, and it makes me feel like a prick.
“We’ll wait for you right here,” Kinley says, her voice polite and sweet. As soon as the woman is at the back of her car, opening the hatch, she turns on me like a cat having its tail pulled and whisper-hisses. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Is it too hard to be nice?”
Shifting my eyes to her, I take a deep breath as I lift my cap off to scratch the bill against my head. “I’m sorry, I…” I don’t get to finish because the hatch slams closed in the back of the SUV, and the woman walks to the driver’s side to get some stuff from the inside.
When she steps to the front of her car with a duffel bag over one shoulder and a backpack over the other, Kinley says, “All set?”
She nods and walks past me to the passenger side of the truck. I set my cap back on my head and try to pull the duffel off her shoulder to help, but she clasps her hand around the strap, pulling away from me. Without looking at me, she defensively says, “I got it.”
It’s official. I’m a grade-A asshole.
Opening the back door for her, I stand back as she puts her things on the bench seat and climbs in. I get in the passenger front seat and wait patiently for Kinley to climb up and get comfortable, her big, round stomach barely fits behind the steering wheel.
Every time I go to physical therapy, my leg hurts so much after that I can barely drive back home, so Kinley has been driving me in my truck.
She insisted. Her husband, Rhys, told her that when her foot can no longer reach the pedal because of her stomach, her driving days are over until the baby comes.
He already doesn’t like that she takes me, but telling Kinley what to do never goes over well.
She gets situated and starts the truck as she looks in the rear-view mirror. “It’s not far, maybe ten minutes.”
We drive in silence for a few minutes before Kinley can’t take it anymore. “So, Nora, what do you do?”
She clears her throat again, and I wonder if it’s a tic. “I’m a freelance copy editor.”
“Oh! I’ve never known anyone who does that. What do you edit?”
Another shot of pain moves up my leg, and I grab my thigh just above the knee with a soft hiss. Grabbing it doesn’t help, but the controlled pain I cause with my fingertips around the muscle somehow feels better than the uncontrollable pain that seems to come right from my bone.
Kinley turns her head to look at me, and I can feel the pity and concern in her gaze. I avoid the look and stare forward as I cup my jaw with my hand and lean my elbow on the door.
There is silence for a moment before our passenger speaks up. “I edit mostly fiction.”
We’re getting closer to town, and traffic is picking up. Kinley signals to turn onto the main street.
“Everything? Or do you specialize in certain genres?”
“My preference is on the romance side, but I get some romantasies. I edit some non-fiction, but it’s usually hard to get into, so I let the author know if I don’t think it’s a good fit after our first conversation.”
Silence falls over the cab again. I can feel the worry Kinley is feeling for me, and it pisses me off. There’s also the nervous tension coming from the back seat.
Our passenger is definitely not much of a talker, but I’m okay with that.
When we get to the bed-and-breakfast, I get out to open her door for her, and she pauses before she walks away. Without looking at me, she quickly says, “Thank you for your help.”
Soft floral perfume tickles my nose, it’s pretty. Like her. It’s my turn to clear my throat as I nod and mumble, “Anytime.”
Guilt is sitting heavy on my shoulders for making her feel like a bother, but when I get back in the truck and another pain shoots through the steady throb, I forget about it.
When Kinley gets back in the truck, she lays into me. “I know you hurt and your life sucks right now, Tuck, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed to be your sister.” She practically huffs her disappointment before she straps her seatbelt across her small frame, tucking it under her belly.
Her head is swiveling back and forth to look for traffic as she backs out of the parking space, and when she puts the truck in gear, I can see irritation etched into every line on her face.
Taking a deep breath, I cup my chin and look out the window at the businesses whizzing by. “I know, I’m sorry. I was an asshole.”
Her irritation melts away, and her worried eyes glance at me. “Are you okay? Is it worse than usual?”
Pushing my palm up and down my thigh, kneading the muscles, I say, “It’s probably the weather. Don’t worry about it.”
She’s quiet until we pull off the highway onto the dark two-way road that leads to the ranch. Her slim fingers wrap around my arm. “I’m sorry I said I’m embarrassed to be your sister, that’s not true.”
Without looking at her, I set my hand over hers. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.”
We travel the rest of the way home in silence. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I find the contact for my friend who owns a garage in town.
Me: 19:22 - Gray SUV on WB shoulder of Highway 20 outside Pryor. Tow to your location and send bill to me. Owner at Allison’s B&B, let her know where it is and leave me out of it.
Ryder: 19:27 - 10-4