Chapter 10
Ruth
Ishouldn’t be here. For one, it’s way too nice of a house for me to be able to so much as take my eyes off my daughter. But also, I shouldn’t be relying on Tucker Bradshaw to fix yet another problem for me. I just didn’t know who else to call.
Because there is no one else.
I lost all my friends when I was fired from my job—thanks to a liar looking to punish me for not doing what I was told.
Even if I hadn’t, I would’ve been forced to cut them off to keep them safe anyway.
It’s been isolating. Depressing. But most of all, it’s left me facing a situation I don’t know how to handle entirely on my own.
“What do you think, Little Bird?” Tucker crouches down, bringing himself eye to eye with my toddler. “Think you can handle staying with me for a few weeks?”
Holy crap. I wasn’t even thinking about how long I might end up being here. My only concern when I called Tucker was protecting my daughter. And while I wouldn’t trust him with my heart, I am starting to believe I can trust him to keep me and Birdie safe.
I don’t get to find out how my little girl feels about our current living arrangement though. Because instead of giving him an answer, she proves her unwillingness to be tamed by sticking a finger up his nostril—again. She moves so fast, Tucker doesn’t have time to avoid her violating digit.
The sneak attack must result in her managing to get it all the way up there, because he makes a weird snorting sound, followed by a choke as he tips backward, losing his balance thanks to her abrupt assault.
Birdie watches him fall then looks at the end of her finger, holding it up to me as she says, “Booger.”
“Gross.” I dig into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out one of the tissues I always keep on hand.
“That’s why you’re not supposed to be sticking your finger up other people’s noses, remember?
” I quickly wipe the offending particle off my daughter’s finger, wadding it up in the tissue before carrying it into what I assume is a small, attached bath.
Flipping on the light, I nearly trip over my own feet when the space in front of me illuminates.
I’ve seen enough of Tucker’s house that I shouldn't be surprised by the fully decked out en suite, but it’s still startlingly nice. No. Nice is gleaming white subway tile and a glass shower enclosure. This bathroom is downright decadent.
The vanity is all richly stained wood, gorgeous marble counters, and double sinks.
The matte gold faucets aren’t mounted on the counter, but are instead coming through the pale colored stone wall above it, the sweeping lines of the hardware elegantly shaped without being ostentatious.
Sconces positioned on either side of each mirror offer soft, flattering light, making the space feel like a spa.
It’s nicer than any bathroom I’ve ever seen, and that isn’t even taking the tub into consideration.
The large basin is not only surrounded by the same warm-toned, heavily veined marble as the counter, it’s also paneled on the front and set into the wall with an arching sort of opening, making it look elevated and insanely fancy.
Add on the matching faucets and coordinating overhead rain showerhead, along with freaking backlit cubbies for shampoo and soaps, and I’m a little scared to try to give my daughter a bath in here.
But boy am I looking forward to showering myself.
“Did she seriously have a booger on her finger?” Tucker stumbles in behind me, one hand over his nose. “Please tell me you didn’t have to pick one of my boogers off your daughter.”
I straighten, pretending like I wasn’t just gawking at this room like a weirdo.
“She totally picked a booger out of your nose.” Opening one of the cabinets beneath one of the sinks, I thankfully find a small trashcan on the first try and deposit the tissue inside.
I turn back to him, trying to act normal. “It wasn’t big though.”
“You looked at it?” Tucker comes toward me, leaning over one sink as he tips his head back to peer up his nostrils. “Was there blood?”
“Not this time.” I smile a little bit as he blinks away the watering of his eyes. “Next time you might not be so lucky.”
I never thought I’d be feeling like joking after what happened this morning, but it’s hard not to tease Tucker at least a little bit. He’s so goofy and laid-back, it’s honestly difficult not to relax around him.
Even though my whole life is crumbling around me.
“I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for her fingers from now on.” He rubs his nose a few times before giving me a lopsided smile. “I sort of thought you were exaggerating that nose thing a little. Thought she’d only try to touch my brain once and be done.”
I snort. “I don’t exaggerate anything when it comes to her.” I smile, thinking about my daughter’s determined spirit. “She is definitely a girl you don’t want to underestimate.”
And I hope it serves her well. I hope she stays just as wild and undaunted as she is right now. I hope nothing, and no one, breaks her down and makes her begin second-guessing herself. Questioning who she is or what she’s capable of being.
“I’m going to guess she gets that from her mother.” Tucker's smile slips, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious. “Because I’m assuming her father leaves a lot to be desired since he wasn’t the one you called today.”
Saying her father leaves a lot to be desired is a huge understatement. One I’m not sure I have the capacity to explain today.
“You would be assuming correctly.” I meet Tucker’s eyes, hoping he can see how truthful, and grateful, I am when I say, “Thank you for coming. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t show up.”
“As much as I want to take credit for saving the day—because I do love being a knight in shining armor—whoever was bothering you was long gone by the time I got there.” Tucker frowns. “Unfortunately. Because I would have loved to have gotten my hands on him.”
I shake my head. “No. Keep your hands to yourself when it comes to that. I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”
Tucker’s frown softens the tiniest bit. “You obviously don’t know how much I love getting into trouble.”
I’ve just been scared shitless and threatened. Had to leave my apartment and part of my few belongings behind. I’m worried I won’t get out of town fast enough to keep my daughter safe. And yet, Tucker Bradshaw has me laughing.
“Somehow, that doesn’t shock me.” I sigh.
“It seems I’m fairly decent at getting into trouble myself.
” I rub my eyes, forgetting I managed to get my makeup on this morning before all hell broke loose.
Pulling my fingers away, I groan at the sight of the mascara and eyeliner transferred to my skin.
“Great. Now I probably look as big of a mess as I am.”
Tucker’s brows pinch together. “You’re not a mess.”
This time my laugh is bitter. “You have no freaking idea just how messy I really am.” I close my eyes, letting my head fall back. “If you did, you never would have wanted me to be the one pretending to be your girlfriend.”
I am the last person he should have lined up for this job.
Not only am I still harboring a fair amount of generalized bitterness toward the male portion of our species, I’m also broke, have terrible taste in who to trust, and don’t know the first thing about how to pretend to be in a healthy, loving relationship.
I pull in a deep breath, opening my eyes to find Tucker staring at me intently.
“Do I need to point out how messy I am?” He shakes his head. “Because it seemed like you were well informed of my own life choices.” He moves closer, crowding me. “I might have some of my shit together, but if we’re being honest, you’re the one who should have run screaming when asked for help.”
I hold my breath as he leans even nearer, the broad expanse of his chest nearly brushing me as he closes in. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I should definitely stop it.
I just…don’t.
Because maybe he’s going to hug me again. Offer the kind of embrace I haven’t felt from anyone but him since my mother died. And right now, I’m weak enough I would take it. Happily.
But right when I think Tucker is reaching for me, he shifts, angling his arm beside me instead of around me.
The sink at my back switches on, and then he’s straightening, the sound of water still tinkling down the drain as he brings a damp rag to my face.
Holding my chin with his thumb and finger to keep me in place, he goes to work.
The washcloth is warm and soft as he carefully moves it over my cheeks. Eyes focused on his task, he wipes away the makeup I smudged everywhere.
Tucker’s voice is barely above a whisper when he says, “But I have to admit, I’m really glad you didn’t.”
Every brain cell in my head is zeroed in on where he’s gently rubbing away the mess I made, completely oblivious to whatever conversation we were having before his skin came into contact with mine. “Glad I didn’t, what?”
“Run screaming from me.” He tips his head, a smirk twisting his lips. “I do have a history of making women scream, but they're not usually running when it happens.”
I swallow hard. Tucker is a lot of things, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would boast without cause. And it has me thinking about all sorts of things I should not be thinking about.
In the beginning, I assumed a man who wasn’t interested in a relationship was selfish, and that behavior would carry over into his bedroom techniques. But the way Tucker has treated me and my daughter makes him seem anything but selfish.