Chapter 18
Ruth
Ihad a lot of expectations for tonight. Most of them were bad. Some terrifying. A few made me want to throw up in my mouth. Not once did I expect I would end up pressed against the side of a UTV, making out with my fake boyfriend.
So now, instead of just being terrified, I'm also flustered, unsettled, and unable to look Tucker in the eye. Which is a huge issue since I'm supposed to be madly in love with him.
Which is another problem.
I'm starting to kind of see how easy it would be for a woman looking to fall in love to end up having those sorts of feelings for Tucker Bradshaw. Because instead of making me feel weird about what happened earlier, and how I tried to climb him like a tree, he’s acting like it's no big deal. Just a normal thing.
For him, it probably is. He did admit to partaking in sexual escapades in his parents’ powder room. Letting me suck on his tongue in the yard is probably nothing on his scale of zero to a big deal.
I hate to admit how much I don’t like that. How something that’s affecting me so much could be nothing more than a few minutes of good natured fun for him.
"I'm going to need you to stop thinking so hard, Ruthless." Tucker's words are soft in my ear. "It looks like you're starting to melt down, and my mother’s going to notice and try to hug you."
That gets my attention and has my eyes snapping to his face. "Seriously?"
Deidre has been very busy since we got here.
She rushed around the kitchen finishing dinner while making sure to check in with each of her sons as well as Mariah and Brooke.
Birdie’s high chair was situated next to her for the meal and Deidre handled making sure she got a little of everything, cutting anything problematic into bite-sized pieces.
Once dinner was over, she whisked Birdie away to clean her up before taking her to play.
I've actually felt like she might not have even remembered I was here, so hearing she would notice my current expression is a little hard to believe.
"Seriously." Tucker's thumb strokes my shoulder, his arm a steady weight around me just like it’s been since we sat down at the table.
"She's behaved herself pretty well so far, but I can promise you she’s dying to smother you with maternal affection.
" He tips his head, wincing a little, like he feels bad about what he's about to say. "It's sort of her thing."
A tiny twinge of something flares deep inside me. I’ve been the one doing all the mothering for so long, I almost forget what it’s like to be mothered. How it feels to be taken care of. Doted on. Loved and appreciated just as I am.
Tucker’s right. Deidre does dish out that kind of affection like it comes from a bottomless well. Tonight, I’ve watched her bestow it on her sons, on Brooke and Mariah, on the twins and Birdie.
Everyone but me.
I lean close to Tucker, keeping my voice low so no one will overhear. "Do you think she doesn't like me?"
Honestly, Deidre wouldn’t be the first person who wasn’t a fan of mine. I've probably been called bitch more often than I've been called kind, but assumed that had more to do with my reserved nature than anything. I know I'm not warm and fuzzy or outgoing, but I’m not mean or spiteful. I’m just…
So very different from Tucker’s warm, open, friendly self.
Tucker's head snaps my way, confusion pinching his brow. "What? No." He looks me over, like he’s seeking evidence of my claim. "Why would you think that?"
"I don't know." I roll both lips inward, pressing them together like I can seal off the rest of this conversation before it escapes my mouth.
For some reason it doesn't work.
"Maybe I'm not what she expected. I’m the first woman you've ever brought home. It's possible she assumed I would be some sort of amazing, gorgeous, brilliant woman brimming with personality."
Tucker's head tips, the confusion on his face lingering. "I feel like I shouldn't have to tell you this, but you are all those things."
All the thoughts circling my brain trip over each other, collapsing into a jumbled pile that leaves me unable to form any response other than, "Oh."
I'm working real hard to avoid admitting that I’m starting to like Tucker, but I don’t know how much longer that’s going to last. It seems like every word that comes out of his mouth makes him more and more appealing to me.
Which is worrisome.
Almost as bad as letting him press me up against the side-by-side while we make out.
I've been able to easily discard any other physical interactions we've shared as necessities. They simply had to happen to ensure we looked comfortable touching each other. They were performative. Done for the sake of whoever happened to be watching us at the time in order to convince them we’re actually in a relationship.
But no one was watching us outside. There was no audience. No one to convince.
And no way to claim it was just us trying to get comfortable. It's very evident we’re more than comfortable with each other at this point.
Tucker reaches up, pushing a lock of hair away from my face before curling it behind my ear. “To be honest, my family probably had no clue what to expect when they heard I found someone.”
“That’s because you’ve never kept anyone around for longer than a night, so no one got a glimpse at any of them.” I try reminding myself who Tucker really is. The way he handles his social life.
But I’m having a hard time reconciling the man I’ve heard so much about with the one who’s so sweet to me and my daughter. The man who is clearly dedicated to his family. The man who works his ass off, and knows every employee in his family’s gigantic business by their first name.
He’s so committed in every other aspect of his life, that I’m struggling to understand why he is so resistant to having a romantic relationship. He’s clearly built for it, and there’s certainly no lack of willing women.
Also, he's a very good kisser, so I have to assume he’s at least moderately decent at everything that comes after that.
It just doesn’t make sense.
A strange shadow passes over Tucker’s normally bright and open expression. It’s nothing more than a flicker, but it’s a familiar one. An emotion I’ve seen in the mirror many times.
Pain. Not the physical kind, but the sort you can’t simply bandage up and wait to heal. It’s the type that lingers. Sometimes festers. Turns from an ache to a breath-stealing stab at the most inopportune times.
Recognizing something in him that I fight on a daily basis must make me temporarily forget everything else, because without meaning to, I lean forward, pressing my lips against his.
It’s a genuine kiss. Not an act I’m putting on for anyone else. It’s not planned or choreographed in any way.
Worse, it’s not even driven by the same sort of biological needs I’m pretending led to our moment outside. It comes only from understanding. The need to comfort. Empathy. Affection.
And—most terrifyingly—connection.
I quickly lean back when my senses return, lifting the tips of my fingers to rest against the lips that were just on Tucker’s.
We stare at each other, him looking just as surprised as I am by what just happened. By what I just did.
I swallow hard, not sure how to recover from my momentary lapse in judgment. But recovery doesn’t seem likely, so I try an excuse. “Your mom’s looking over here.”
Utter and total lie. I don’t even know where his mother is right now. Probably somewhere with my daughter seeing as how she’s toted her around the entire night.
“Smart thinking.” Tucker leans closer, the hand not resting against my shoulder coming to cradle my face. “We don’t want her getting suspicious.”
His thumb strokes against my cheek, sending a flurry of butterflies loose in my stomach. I’m so distracted by my reaction to him, that I barely have time to prepare for his lips coming to mine.
Up until this moment, kissing Tucker has been either a task or a sudden, unplanned interaction.
This one falls right between those two. landing in wholly uncharted waters.
Waters that are calm enough I can’t help but notice how firm but soft the line of his mouth is.
The slow drag of his fingertips as they slide along my scalp and spear into my hair.
The warmth of his breath against my skin.
How easy it is to lean closer, seeking something I can’t quite put a name to.
It’s not comfort, but it’s close. It’s not safety, but it’s in a similar vein. It’s a feeling I’m struggling to identify, but can easily see myself wanting more of.
“Gross.”
My eyes pop open just as what looks like a leftover dinner roll bounces off the side of Tucker’s head. I turn to find Trevor—who is now carrying my daughter around—staring at us with his lip curled.
“Get a room.” He grabs another roll, lobbing it at his brother. “There are children present.”
When the next roll hits Tucker right in the center of his forehead, my toddler starts cackling like a maniac.
It’s all the encouragement Tucker needs to grab the most recent attack roll and chuck it back at Trevor. These guys must all have wickedly great aim, because he manages to hit him right in the middle of the throat, not even coming close to where my daughter is.
Trevor makes a choking sound, which Birdie finds absolutely hilarious, turning her cackling into full on belly laughs.
A sound the rest of the Bradshaw brothers must find irresistible, because the next thing I know rolls are flying everywhere. And I’m super grateful my daughter’s wearing a diaper, because she’s laughing so hard I’m sure she’s peed her pants by this point.
Honestly, I’m probably not far behind her. Because seeing five grown men assaulting each other with bread bombs in an effort to amuse my daughter is pretty freaking hilarious.
And annoyingly adorable.
Deidre does not seem to share my opinion, because she’s very quickly in the middle of everything, shooting dirty looks at the grown men making a mess of her dining room. After stealing my daughter away from Trevor, she—in a pretty impressive mom voice—tells her sons to clean up their mess.
Watching the Bradshaw brothers grumble and complain while doing exactly what their mommy told them to do is almost as adorable as the roll fight.
As I go to work collecting the empty plates and used flatware from the table, I watch the dynamics unfolding around me.
It was always just my mother and me, so seeing how a big family functions is interesting.
It’s definitely very different from what I had, but I can for sure see the appeal.
It almost makes me wish I could have another child someday.
Give Birdie a sibling to throw dinner rolls at.
But I can’t see a way where that will ever be in the cards for me. I saw how much my mother struggled to date when I was a kid, and remember how hard it was for me to watch. I won’t put Birdie through that. It’s not worth it.
As I carry the dishes into the kitchen, my mood starts to tank. Dragged down from a point so high it feels like I’m falling off a cliff.
Setting everything into the sink, I go to work rinsing away smears of gravy and bits of mashed potato, deciding to take a minute to myself. A second to get a handle on the conflicting emotions and expectations warring in my head.
But I don't get the time I need. I’m barely through the second plate when Deidre strides in.
Her eyes go straight to where I’m working. “You don’t have to do that, honey. Ted and I will get those later tonight.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” I look from side to side, knowing a woman as smart and successful as Deidre would most certainly have her dishwasher well within reach of the sink.
Unfortunately, everything in this room looks like a cabinet.
It’s gorgeous, but makes it difficult to identify appliances.
“Could you point me in the general direction of the dishwasher?”
Deidre studies me for a minute. I’ve convinced myself she’s about to kick me out of the kitchen, when she rounds the island, grabbing a hidden handle on the cabinet closest to me and pulling downward.
“There’s one on the other side too.” She takes one of the plates I’ve rinsed, racking it up.
“With five growing boys eating all the time, I needed both of them to keep up when they were kids.”
“I have a hard enough time keeping up with Birdie's appetite. I can’t imagine what it was like to deal with that many starving teenage boys.”
I try to envision Tucker as a teenager, but it’s not easy. I just end up with the same guy in a scrawnier body. Maybe that’s because Tucker’s laid-back and kind of goofy, always going with the flow, making him a lot like a teenager right now.
I like that about him. My life is so serious and difficult and stressful. Having him around to lighten things up has been nice. It’s kept me from feeling like I’m drowning in a sea of worries. They’re still there of course, but I at least now I can swim.
“They aren’t much better now.” Deidre smiles softly. “And I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I like feeding them.” She collects the rest of the plates, lining them in with the first. “Thursdays are my favorite days. I get to see all my boys and take care of them like I used to.”
My throat gets tight, and I try to swallow, hoping to relax the clog of emotion collecting there. My mother would’ve loved having me over for dinner once a week. Spending time with Birdie and me. Taking care of us. Loving us.
But she never got the opportunity, and it really, really sucks.
Clearing my throat, I manage to croak out, “I can imagine.”
And I can. I can imagine what it will be like someday when Birdie is all grown up and living her own life. How much I’ll value the time I still get with her. The way I’ll always want to take care of her.
The way I wish my mom could have taken care of me.