Chapter 16
Ruth
“Idon’t know why Tucker thinks you need so many snacks.” I add his latest acquisitions to the cabinet where I store all the food in his office.
It’s only the second day I’ve come to work with him, and the man has already taken my daughter to the break room countless times to get her whatever she wants.
At this point I’ve stocked everything from chips to snack cakes, and instant noodles to shelf stable microwave meals.
I’ve never worked anywhere that provided their employees with so many options for free, and it’s sort of mind boggling to see.
As I learn more about Tucker, it’s also not surprising.
Tucker is always worrying about others. Whether it’s me and Birdie, one of his brothers, or one of his employees, he wants to make sure everyone has what they need.
It’s… Endearing.
It’s also causing me to run out of places to put things, which is why I’ve spent a good portion of my second afternoon at McKinley Security Systems reorganizing his office cabinets.
I’m sure the way it was made sense to him, but when I had to start finding room for piles of Twinkies and rows of Nutri-Grain bars, I discovered things were sort of haphazardly put away.
His filing cabinets appeared neat, but nothing was in an order that made sense. His office supplies were spread around the room instead of collected into one area. Almost like he tried to put things away, but ended up losing momentum and simply shoved them wherever they fit.
So, after getting Birdie snuggled up on his oversized leather sofa with a tablet playing her favorite show, I went to work.
Things definitely got worse before they got better, and at one point I was seriously regretting my life choices.
His beautiful office went from looking perfectly fine and well-maintained to complete and utter chaos in what felt like the blink of an eye.
I started to panic Birdie was going to get her afternoon zoomies and plow through all the piles I was working hard to collect into like items.
Thankfully, she ended up dozing off—probably due to the bellyful of stir-fried chicken and vegetables with rice Tucker ordered us for lunch—and I’m finally nearing the finish line. All I have left to do is put all Tucker’s desk items into their newly designated drawers, and it’s finished.
Now all I need is a dose of caffeine to get me through the home stretch.
Pulling out a paper coffee cup, I set it on the machine, selecting my favorite pod from the well-stocked selection, pop it into the designated spot, and set the machine to run.
I check on Birdie while I wait, getting her properly tucked under the cozy blanket Tucker keeps folded across one arm of the couch and making sure the throw pillow barricade keeping her securely on the sofa is still sturdy.
She’s big enough now it wouldn’t hurt her to roll off, but it wouldn’t be a fun way for her to wake up.
For either of us.
Confident she’s safe and comfortable, I go to collect my coffee. The door to the office clicks open as I’m pouring in a single-serve cup of half-and-half.
Tucker is quiet as he comes in, his eyes going straight to the couch where Birdie is enjoying her afternoon snooze. I almost think I see something that looks like fondness across his features as he looks at her, but it’s probably just a man who’s excited his plan is working out.
And it does seem to be working out.
I’ve met most of his brothers at this point, and everyone seems to be fooled.
The only one I haven’t crossed paths with is Walker, who I’m told is a cousin even though they act like brothers.
But I’m not super worried about him. No one else has batted an eye at Tucker announcing we’re in a relationship, so I’m sure Walker will be no different.
I’m still feeling a little panicky over meeting Deidre Bradshaw though. My mother could see through me in an instant, and I don’t imagine Tucker’s mother is any different with him.
But he is putting on a really good show. Yesterday, when he saw me being introduced to the three men from Alaskan Security, he did an amazing job of looking jealous. If I didn’t know better, I might have believed it myself.
The same way his current act of double checking the pillow wall and the blanket over my daughter would make me think he cares about her.
After adjusting one of the pillows to sit a little closer to where she’s curled up, Tucker turns to me, his eyes sweeping my frame from head to toe before shifting to the mess on his desk. His brows pinch together, but not in anger. More in confusion.
“I noticed things were a little hectic in your cabinets as I was putting away all the snacks you and Birdie brought back after lunch, so I decided to get it organized a little better for you.” It didn’t even occur to me that Tucker might be irritated I took liberties with his personal space.
He’s actually made it very clear I can pretty much do whatever I want.
And now the smile on his face confirms it.
“I might have to give you a raise.” He saunters toward me, looking like his normal easy-going—if slightly cocky—self as he closes in on where I stand. “Maybe a bonus of some sort.” He waggles his brows. “If you know what I mean.”
I feel like I’m always rolling my eyes at this guy. But now I’m smiling when I do it because he’s so freaking ridiculous sometimes. “Let me guess what sort of bonus you're offering…” I angle a brow, tapping a finger against my chin as he comes to a stop right in front of me. “It’s sex, isn’t it?”
I know Tucker doesn’t genuinely want to have sex with me. I think it’s just his personality to flirt with every woman who finds herself caught in his orbit. Some people crack jokes. Some people tell stories. Tucker Bradshaw flirts.
And he’s very good at it. I can absolutely see why so many women found their way into his bed. The man certainly talks a good game.
But lots of men do. And in my experience, none of them live up to the hype. I can’t imagine this one is any different.
“It’s whatever you want it to be, Ruthless.” Tucker moves closer, something we’ve both tried to do more regularly since we have to look comfortable touching. “I am but your humble servant.”
I snort, laughing a little. “Right. Because men love to service women while getting nothing in return.”
Tucker suddenly seems unusually serious. “Real men do.”
Right. Sure. “I must not know any real men then.”
Men have done nothing but disappoint me. Going all the way back to the one who walked away from my mother when she told him she was pregnant.
Growing up, I thought that was the worst thing someone could do under those circumstances. I was very wrong.
So very, very wrong.
Tucker’s eyes move over my face, studying me long enough I start to feel a little exposed. Like maybe he can see the shameful parts of my past. And will judge me accordingly.
But Tucker’s voice is soft, not even the slightest hint of judgment in it when he says, “That’s unfortunate.”
Is it though? “Not really.” I shrug, a little surprised to hear myself explaining more of my history than I ever intended to give him. “I’m better off on my own. No offense, but I’ve never found having a man around to be particularly useful.”
My mother tried to date a handful of times as I was growing up, and each one of them resulted in heartache. You’d think I’d have learned not to even try dipping my toe in the water. Apparently not.
And I almost drowned.
“Sounds like I need to work a little harder to prove my worth then.” Tucker brings one hand to rest against my hip, the heat of his palm sinking through the fabric of my fanciest leggings and the somewhat professional loose shirt I’m wearing over them.
“All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll be more than happy to show you how useful I can be. ”
His flirting might be all for the show, but it almost seems like he’s genuinely offering me sexual favors.
I think? Possibly?
Actually, I’m not really sure what’s happening right now.
“You mean like opening jars and reaching things on the highest shelves?” Because maybe I could actually admit it would be helpful to have a man around for a few very specific tasks.
Tucker’s lips lift on one side. “That’s the best you can come up with?” He shakes his head. “I expected you to be more creative than that.”
I’m not ever going to be a great flirt, but I probably need to try. At least a little. I can’t just keep rolling my eyes at him. “You’d be shocked how creative I can be.”
Tucker’s brows lift. “Yeah?”
I nod, worried over the way my mind is losing the plot. Because instead of coming up with something hilarious and off-the-wall for him to do, all my brain is thinking about is the way he seems to have moved even closer. Close enough the front of his body is now nearly pressed against mine.
Tucker leans down, bringing his lips close enough to my ear I can feel the warmth of his breath as he asks, “If you could ask me to do whatever you wanted, what would it be?”
Why in the hell did that question make my nipples tight?
Worse, why am I now thinking about all the things I could ask Tucker to do if we weren’t in the situation we’re in?
What would’ve happened if I’d met him before Birdie? Before William? If we’d found ourselves in the same bar on the same night. I wonder how different my life would be if it’d been Tucker I used to distract myself from the nagging ache I struggled to navigate after my mother died.
I would have one fewer man terrorizing me, which would be great. But I wouldn’t have Birdie. And there’s no amount of easier days that would make me willing to give her up. No amount of sexy, smooth talking Bradshaw brother that would make me second guess any decision that brought her here.
“It’s taking you an awful long time to come up with an answer, Ruthless.” Tucker’s hand flexes on my hip. “Is it because you can’t narrow down your options, or because you can’t come up with one?”