Chapter 16 #2
I really wish it was the second option, but I must be ovulating or something, because my brain doesn’t seem to be in control of itself right now.
Everything running around inside it is squarely under the influence of my girly parts.
And they have definitely got plenty of ideas where Tucker is concerned.
Maybe if we didn’t have to touch, they would stay in their lane. Maybe if we weren’t sleeping under the same roof, they wouldn’t be giving in to temptation. Maybe if he didn’t smell so freaking good, I’d have an easier time reining them in.
Unfortunately, for myriad reasons, they’ve rallied forces and are hell-bent on breaching the perimeter I put in place.
“I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having.” I deserve a pat on the back for finding some semblance of reason while Tucker’s invading all my senses. Maybe a cookie or a bubble bath.
I wonder what Tucker looks like in a bubble bath. Skin all glistening and wet. Hair slicked back away from his face. Body slippery and—
“I think it’s important we have conversations of all sorts.” Tucker’s nose traces along the side of my neck as he breathes deep. “It will be difficult to appear comfortable together if we don’t know anything about each other.”
That’s true. But I am not going to be the one to make confessions first. I’ve been made a fool of by a man once, and I’m certainly not going to allow it to happen again.
“Maybe you should—”
My intention to turn Tucker’s question around on him stalls on my lips when the door to his office opens and his brother Trevor storms inside.
“Do you know what she’s done—”
His words die out when his eyes land on where Tucker and I stand together, looking every bit what we’re pretending to be. They move over us in an assessing way, only snapping away when Birdie suddenly sits up—horror movie style—and starts screaming.
“Shit.” Trevor looks genuinely distressed over waking my daughter. “I forgot she was here.” He goes straight for my toddler, hooking his hands under her reaching arms before freezing, his eyes coming my way. “Can I pick her up?”
I almost laugh, because my little girl is actively trying to climb up his forearms while he waits for my okay. “I think she might lose her bananas if you don’t.”
Trevor quickly hefts Birdie off the couch, his expression apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Little Bit. Uncle Trevor forgot you were taking a nap.”
Birdie isn’t crying anymore, but she does have her lower lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout as she milks the situation for all it’s worth.
After blinking a few times, managing to get a tear rolling down her cheek, she rests her head on Trevor’s shoulder and I watch as he visibly melts, thinking she’s being sweet.
Sucker.
Tipping her head back, Birdie looks up at him. Her voice is small and pathetic as she asks, “Snack?”
Now I’m rolling my eyes at a second Bradshaw brother as Trevor whisks her away to the break room, clearly oblivious to the fact that half the breakroom is currently occupying the cabinets of his brother's office.
I sigh. My daughter is probably going to end up stuffed with sugar and anything else Trevor can find to give her.
But I’m not mad about it, because Trevor’s sudden appearance managed to break the spell Tucker was casting on me.
I’m no longer thinking about the way his naked body would look covered in bubbles while he lounges in the tub.
Mostly.
I step around the desk under the guise of straightening things up, putting a little space between us just in case my lady parts manage to reclaim my better senses. “What time is dinner at your parents’?”
I’m still pretty nervous about family dinner night, but while at work with Tucker, I’ve been introduced to a few people I think will be in my corner.
Brooke is awesome, and knowing she’ll be there too eases a good amount of the panic I’m carrying over meeting Deidre Bradshaw.
Mariah is also great, but I know she’ll be busy with the twins, and don’t want to put the weight of helping keep me at ease on her.
Trevor is obviously on my side. Primarily because he might have already fallen in love with my little girl, but I’m going to take it.
Whatever will put me on the right side going in.
Which reminds me.
As I align the desk cover and pen organizer—even though they’re already in the perfect position—I ask Tucker, “Should we make something to bring?”
He rests one ass cheek against the surface now standing between us, his disarming smile in place. “Already took care of it after you and Birdie went to sleep last night.”
I blink, shocked. “You did? What did you make?”
Tucker has proven himself perfectly capable of operating a stove and assembling meals I’m happy to eat. I shouldn’t be surprised he made something. I’m just still wrestling with my expectations of him not aligning with reality. And it’s fucking with my head a little bit.
Probably why I’m still thinking about him in the bathtub.
Those guiltily sordid thoughts don’t abate any at all when he straightens, broad shoulders pushed back, looking smugly proud of himself as he teases, “You’re just going to have to wait and see what I’ve got for you.
” He gives me a wink that makes my stomach flip almost as much as his next words.
“But I promise you’re going to want to put it in your mouth. ”