And he did look better than anything I’d seen on the menu. His washed-out t-shirt was tight across his shoulders and chest, damp from the warm evening and leather jacket he’d been wearing. His ripped jeans would be a disgrace at one of my mother’s cocktail parties, but hugged his butt and toned thighs. I know because I’d looked.
As he turned the pages of the menu, a small frown notched between his eyebrows, I could see long lashes, much darker than his dirty blond hair. The smooth skin of his forearms and muscled biceps caught and held my attention.
“What?” he asked, glancing at the exact spot where my eyes had been burning holes. “I got something on me?” Then he looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Or are you checking me out?”
“I thought I saw a spider,” I defended. “My mistake.”
He laughed softly. “A spider? I knew I felt something crawling all over me. I thought it was your eyes. My mistake.”
I slammed my menu shut with a huff. “I’ll have the vegetarian lasagna.”
“Steak,” said Tucker, looking straight at me. “Burn it. I like what I put in my mouth to be heated all the way through.”
The waitress fanned herself with her notepad before writing down the order.
Tucker grinned at me, then used his hands to rake a lock of misbehaving hair out of his eyes.
Even though his hair was shorter than I’d seen it before, it remained untamed. Almost military length at the back, the stubborn, longer section at the front refused to stay in place. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day he decided to shave it all off.
His whole body was sculpted to my idea of near perfection, but he wasn’t vain—his body was like an extension of the bikes he rode, a highly calibrated, powerful machine. He cared more what his Ducati looked like than how he was dressed. His clean but ripped jeans and ragged t-shirt were a testament to that.
He settled back in the booth, his arms spread wide, as if inviting me to carry on checking out his honed, toned body.
Since attack is the best form of defense, I forced myself to relax and speak pleasantly.
“Thank you for coming tonight. I wasn’t looking forward to having dinner alone.
He gave me a small smile.
“You’re a lot like Kes,” he said.
“How so?”
“He can turn on the charm when he wants to get his own way.”
I wasn’t sure I liked that comparison, and really, wasn’t that an example of double standards?
“And you don’t?” I asked, more harshly than I’d intended.
His amused gaze softened. “Naw, I’m just full of shit, shine and hot air.”
I suspected that Tucker was smarter than he let on. He was never lost for something to say, and he made me laugh with his witty replies. But for some reason, he preferred people to think he was a dumb hick. I didn’t get why he wanted to be underestimated.
I decided to change the subject.
“How did you and Kes meet?”
This time his eyes smiled along with his mouth. I realized I was in danger of becoming addicted to that expression.
“I was working as a roustabout . . .”
“I’ve heard the term, but I don’t really know what a roustabout does. I’m assuming it’s not like working on an oil field.”
He grinned and shook his head. “No, in the carnival a roustabout is a jack-of-all-trades, a laborer. Doing whatever needs doing.”
“Such as?”
He shrugged. “Pitching the tents for the sideshows, hanging the lights and electric cables, working with the ride owners to put up the Ferris wheel or the rollercoaster, set up the dodgems or the carousel. Feed the animals if you have them or clean out their cages. Sometimes I’d set up a temporary corral for the rodeo acts. One time, I had to take care of a two-ton elephant called Phoebe. Man, that was some shit-shoveling.”
“I don’t know if you’re being serious or not.”
Tucker grinned. “I’m never serious. Except when it comes to three square meals a day.”
“Hmm. So how did you end up in the Daredevils?”
He scratched his eyebrow with his forefinger, as if contemplating the question.
“Well, one of the ride owners had a wall of death show: one of those stunts that takes place in a silo-shaped cage and you ride your motorcycle around it—you’re held in place by centrifugal force. I didn’t have a regular slot—I just kind of helped out sometimes. Kes saw me doing that and said he was going to start up his own stunt show. He offered me a job—I was ready for a change so I said yes.” He smiled again. “And here I am.”
“How old are you?”
He held his hand to his chest. “That’s a mighty personal question, Miss Hawkins.”
I shook my head in exasperation. “I’m 27. The same age as Kes. But you already know that.”
“I’ll be 30 on my next birthday,” he admitted with a grin.
“Wow, so old!” I laughed.
He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “And she aimed straight at my heart.”
I threw my napkin at him.
“Seriously,” I laughed. “The big three-oh. Any plans on how you’re going to celebrate that?”
“Me and Daisy will take a trip some place,” he said, an impish smile on his face.
I’m sure my expression said it all. “Daisy? Is she your girlfriend?”
“Is that a bit of green-eyed jealousy there?”
I cocked my head to one side. “Maybe. But I don’t hit on guys who have girlfriends.”
His smile deepened. “Is that what you’re doing? Hitting on me?”
I leaned back in my chair. I don’t know why I was so disappointed: Aimee had warned me that Tucker was the biggest manwhore out there. I’d seen the way he operated with my own eyes. I could just add ‘cheat’ to the long list of reasons why Tucker McCoy was a dog.
I took a sip of water and made my voice casual.
“I was hitting on you, Tucker. But it won’t happen again. I don’t like cheats.”
His eyes widened. “Hey! I’m not a cheat. I never promise a woman anything except . . .”
The words trailed off and a dull red crept across his unshaven cheeks.
“Except a night of unforgettable bliss?” I teased.
He smiled, but it was off—not the usual full wattage.
“I don’t cheat,” he repeated.
I stared at him. “That sounded almost serious. I thought you didn’t do serious.”
“I don’t,” he said simply. “I’m not serious about women—I don’t do relationships, so I never cheat either.”
“Just a series of one night stands.”
“Sometimes two,” he said with a wink.
“And what does Daisy think of your philosophy?”
He grinned. “She always plays along.”
Disgusted, I stood up, laying some bills on the table.
“Where are you going?” he asked, surprise clear on his face.
“I seem to have lost my appetite,” I said calmly.
Tucker was on his feet in a flash.
“Don’t go, TC. I was just messing with you. I don’t have a girl; I don’t have anyone. Daisy is my motorcycle. It’s a Ducati, or a Duke. So I call it . . .”
I laughed with relief at his explanation. “Daisy Duke—I get it!”
“Will you stay and have dinner with me?” he asked, his smile so sweet I could have gotten diabetes on the spot. “Please?”
“Fine, I’ll stay. But only because you begged me,” I snorted, taking my seat again.
Tucker laughed out loud. “Girl, you are a hard ass.”
I leaned closer, and Tucker automatically mirrored my stance.
“Woman,” I said softly.
He licked his lips, the same small frown tugging his eyebrows together.
The moment was broken when the server brought our food.
Tucker’s salad had surrendered before his enormous steak arrived and he dove into it with relish, attacking the slab of
meat with a knife and fork until it had disappeared and the accompanying baked potato was a distant memory.
“Hungry?” I asked, raising an ironical eyebrow.
Tucker looked almost guilty, as if I’d caught him doing something illicit.
“I just don’t like wasting food,” he said, with a casual shrug of his shoulders.
He grinned quickly, but his eyes darted away, another secret hidden behind his smile.
I hadn’t expected to find Tucker McCoy so intriguing.
Damn.
Tucker
I’d been surprised as hell when Tera had asked me to have dinner with her. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something as ordinary as eat a meal with a woman . . . other than Aimee.
I knew Tera was attracted to me, and I was definitely attracted to her, but that was the problem. She was Kes’s sister: she wasn’t someone I could fuck and forget. But I also suspected that she wasn’t a woman I’d be able to stop thinking about anyway, which made it doubly stupid for me to agree to have dinner with her.
I enjoyed her sass, the way she gave it back to me, and I admired her honesty, too. She wanted to have dinner with me so she just asked. No dropping heavy hints, no pouting and whining—just straight to the point.
Seeing her like this after all these months, it had knocked me off balance. I should have walked away, but I couldn’t ignore Kes’s sister completely. After all, I’d be seeing her several times a year for as long as I was a member of Hawkins’ Daredevils. It would make it easier if we could find a way to spend time together without me wanting to bend her over the Duke.
But talking to her, hearing her laugh, I wanted it even more.
Not good.
Kissing Tera would be a mistake.
Dinner had been more than fun—it had been exciting. She teased me and challenged me. It had been a long time since a woman had given me the same rush as pulling stunts on my bike. Why the fuck did she have to be my best friend’s sister?
But every time I tried to push away from Tera, her laughter, the glint in her eyes, the intelligence she showed with every sentence, it all pulled me back.
It didn’t help that she was on her fourth beer.
“My, it’s warm in here,” she said, holding the chilled bottle against her neck.
I was mesmerized as droplets of water rolled down her chest, disappearing into the deep vee of her t-shirt. And she knew it, the witch, a small, cat-like smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as I yanked my thoughts out of the gutter.
A minute later she was moaning and groaning again, rolling that damn bottle over her throat before taking a long swallow.
It was getting harder to remember why I couldn’t have this woman. Yeah, and that wasn’t the only thing that was getting hard.
“It’s late,” I said, nodding at the streetlights outside.
As if we needed them to know that twilight had come and gone, and stars were sparkling in the sky like fireflies.
“I’ll walk you back,” I said decisively, standing to make my point.
Tera grinned up at me, her eyes a little unfocused. “All the way across the parking lot? What a gentleman!”
Then she leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, giving me the money-shot view down her t-shirt.
God had given her beautiful tits—she could make a sucker out of me any time.
My eyes darted up to hers when she spoke again.
Damn, she could make jogging a spectator sport.
“Tucker, I like you, and I can tell you like me. We’re both single. I’m not asking you for a commitment—let’s just see how this goes.”
I sat down heavily. She was so damn fearless—just like Kes.
“TC, it’s not a good idea.”
She rounded the table and sat next to me, her thigh pressed to mine, leaning her head against my shoulder so her silky hair tickled my cheek.
So damn soft.
I could feel the heat of her skin burning through my t-shirt and my dick swelled, trapped sideways, the seam pressing painfully. I’d had a chubbie all evening, but now it was trying to climb through the denim.
“I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had,” she said, her voice quiet but clear.
“You didn’t think that at the bonfire last spring,” I reminded her. “You walked away from me then. Why aren’t you walking away from me now?”
“Because.”
I waited, but that seemed to be all the answer I was getting.
“Because what?” I prompted her.
“Because . . . because that’s what I’ve been taught to do. I’m supposed to wait for the right guy, then marry him and give up my career to make perfect little babies that my dad can kiss on his campaign trail.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad,” I hedged.
She shook her head fiercely.
“No, it doesn’t, but it’s not me either. I’ve met a lot of right men,” and she rolled her eyes, “but it seems as if it’s the wrong man that I’m attracted to. There’s something there, something between us.” Then she smiled brightly. “And I haven’t gotten laid in ages.”
My head dropped into my hands.
“You can’t say that to a guy!” I groaned.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling my head down with a fierceness that surprised me. Her pink lips flattened against mine, demanding, insisting, until her tongue was in my mouth.
Stronger men couldn’t have resisted her, and dammit, I’d always been weak.
I kissed her back, stroking my tongue against hers, my hands tangling in that glossy hair the way they’d wanted to all night.
Tera’s hands were at my waist, tunneling under my t-shirt, tracing her nails over skin that was suddenly sensitized.
She hummed against my mouth, then nipped my lower lip.
“Let’s take this somewhere private,” she whispered.
I glanced up to see the servers whispering together in the corner, and Tera giggled.
I nodded quickly and tossed down a pile of bills onto the table. I stood up to leave, but Tera grabbed the money and shoved it back into my pocket. I would have argued, but my brain was numb from the moment she touched my ass.
“I invited you,” she said.
“And told me I was paying!” I called after her.
But she ignored me, walking away swinging her hips.
“Damn it,” I grumbled to myself.
I grabbed my leather jacket and held it in front of me so my boner was hidden.
Once she’d paid, I followed her outside, her heels clicking across the parking lot as she strode at a rapid pace. I had no idea how she walked so fast in heels that high after four beers. Maybe she practiced.
As we approached the entrance to the Inn, she suddenly veered left toward a stand of pine trees, until we were hidden from prying eyes.
“TC, I don’t think we . . .”
But then she shoved me hard in the chest so I flailed backward, the breath whooshing out of my lungs as I thudded against a broad trunk. She was on me before I could take a breath, her hands were everywhere—one hand pushing up under my shirt, the other was shoved down the back of my pants, gripping my ass.
My body felt like it was on fire, and every argument in my brain shut down, wanting only this moment with this woman.
I spun her around, pressing her into the rough bark as the thin wall of my control exploded apart.
Without needing to look down, I knew my dick had grown even harder and was pushing against her thighs like a greedy fucker, trying to get closer.
Her tits pressed against my chest, and my breath caught in my throat. She was all soft, all woman, but aggressively taking what she wanted. I was in heaven.
I was in hell.
I pushed away, taking a step back, breathing hard. It was just enough room for her to cup my dick over my jeans.
Her chest was rising and falling hypnotically and I damn near had to tear my eyeballs from my head to look away. This woman was turning me in
side out, lust making me crazy.
“This can’t . . .” I began, waving my finger between us.
Her eyes turned glassy and for a horrible moment I thought she was going to cry. But then the blue turned to ice, and the temperature dropped a dozen degrees.
“Is it because of Kes?” she asked, her voice accusing. “That’s why you won’t let this happen?”
“Shit, Tera, he’s my brother!”
She pulled her clothes straight and tossed her long, shiny hair over her shoulder. “No, he’s not,” she snapped. “He’s mine.” And she stamped away, her hair glowing silver in the moonlight.
Before two seconds had passed, she’d disappeared through the darkness and into the hotel’s wide, glass doors.
Wow, I really managed to fuck up that conversation.
My cock was so depressed I thought he was going to whimper. But instead I was left with one hell of a boner and only myself to blame.
Fuck it! I had two really good things going on in my life: Hawkins’ Daredevils and now Tera. Of all the fucking luck that I couldn’t have both.
I rubbed the back of my neck, the tension from the last twenty minutes leaving me with a motherfucker of a headache.
I headed back toward where I’d parked the Duke then remembered that I’d left my helmet in the diner. Cursing myself for being such a dumbass, I walked back inside, smiling at the server who was clearing our old table.
I pointed at the helmet still laying on the bench seat in the booth.
“Any excuse to come back and see you,” I said, grinning.
“Oh, get on with it!” she laughed.
I winked at her and strolled back outside, allowing my smile to slip.
After this evening’s clusterfuck, I was looking forward to going back to the RV and having a quiet beer with Zef before . . .
“Nice bike. I always appreciated Italian design.”
I ground to a halt, staring at the beautiful blonde smirking at me from the Duke’s pillion seat.
“TC, what are you doing? We already had this conversation.”
She looked at me seriously.
“I know you think I’m a little princess, Tucker, but I’m not a virgin. There have been quite a few guys. In fact more than a few—maybe even a lot.”