Tucker's Crossing (5 page)

He brushed her mouth with his, nibbling and savoring, his lips caressing as he briefly slid his tongue against hers. He tasted of belonging, of a time when her life was overflowing with happiness and love.

Shelby told her hands to let go of his shirt, so she wouldn’t wrinkle it; she tried to remind herself that this was Cody and he couldn’t be trusted. Because if he kept kissing her, she would forget the hurt he had caused.

Cody dropped one of his hands from her face, only to mold his fingers around her hips with a controlled gentleness that stole away every last hesitation and started a warm tingling sensation that settled between her legs. His thumb stroked the spot right behind her earlobe that always drove her crazy. And God it felt good.

Slowly, his hand ascended, rib by rib, until it stopped, a breath shy of where she wanted it most—and she heard herself whimper.
How could this be happening? And what had happened to that in-control woman she had become?

His thumbs teased higher, making her heart slam erratically against her chest. She said nothing, just moved closer, pushing her swollen mounds into his palms. His mouth curled up into the start of his oh-yeah smile, making her stomach flip just like it used to, as if the past had ceased to exist.

Cody sobered, his hands stilled. “I’m not doing this again. Not with you.”

“I agree, it’s too complicated.” But it was also too late. Something had happened. Something exciting and terrifying and incredibly stupid. Neither one of them could stop it. And neither one of them was happy about it.

“This will only blow up in our faces.” Cody pulled her to him and she felt the hard ridge of his erection throb against her stomach.

“But what an explosion it’d be.”

“Who knew anger could be such a fucking turn-on?” he whispered.

Shelby grabbed the front of his shirt, she’d iron it later, and yanked him down, wrapping herself around him, because the alternative was to crumple to the floor. Cody moaned, his desire completely unfiltered. Melding their lips even tighter, he kissed her silly, in that way that only Cody could do.

After he hoisted her up so they were more evenly matched, she wrapped her legs around his stomach and squeezed. He set her onto the counter, the bare skin on her legs pressing into the cool tile, the skirt of her dress catching on a line of grout, his legs pushing at her inner thighs.

He was hot and angry and turned on all at the same time and Shelby couldn’t help but smile against his mouth. This was one of those rare moments when Cody’s need for self-control got lost in the passion. Exposing the man who had stolen her heart, the one she had fallen in love with.

“You know what’s going to happen now, Shelby Lynn,” he whispered, his lips trailing lower, teasing her breasts. The pull of his mouth was so intense that her nipples ached through the cotton dress.

“What?” she whispered, her hands tearing at the buttons on his shirt. She’d just buy him a new one.

“I’m going to carry you up those stairs, toss you on that big bed.” His teeth nipped at her peak and she gasped. “And then you’re going to pack up your things and get your pretty little ass off my property.”

Shelby snatched her hands back. It was as if she had been doused with a bucket of cold water. The past came rushing back, destroying the fragile bond they had just created.

She was confused.

And hurt.

What had just happened?

What was she doing?

And why, even though he was being a domineering jerk, did she want to go back to kissing him? The only thing that made sense was that she was messing everything up.

Scooting off the counter, she shoved past Cody and straightened her dress. She felt every ounce of shame, not to mention a good dose of anger, as it crept up her body. Preston had said she was as passionate as an ice cube, and maybe she was trying to prove him wrong. Or maybe it just felt good, after so many years of being told how disappointing she was as a woman, to feel desirable.

Whatever the reason, one brush of his lips and she had been willing to forget the past, forget that heartache, forget the lies, forget why she was here. Forget he was wearing starch.

Shelby met his gaze head-on. She wouldn’t be bossed around by one more man. And she wouldn’t be intimidated into leaving the only place that had ever felt like a home. She was no longer that love-hungry kid, ready to shoulder the blame if it meant not being alone.

“Scare tactics won’t work. And wherever my
pretty little . . . backside
decides to go, is none of your business. Not anymore.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” A long, tense moment passed before Cody threw his hands up in surrender. “You know what, you’re right. You, thank God, are no longer my problem. Bottom line is—you’re trespassing and you need to leave. Now.”

“If you came all this way just to tell me to get out, you wasted a trip,” Shelby said, her voice low and calm. “This is my home. Silas gave me permission to stay on as long as I like. And until you and your brothers . . .” she trailed off, eyeing him accusingly.

At least have the decency to look embarrassed, she thought. He had lied to her about so many things—well, left out crucial parts of his past, which to her was as bad as lying. Finding out he had a whole family that he’d never told her about, been too embarrassed to introduce her to, had hurt the most.

“Until you finish out your twelve months, the house remains in probate, and I am free to stay.” Shelby rested her hands on her hips, a sign that she wasn’t going anywhere. And made a note to thank Gina for the legal jargon.

“Damn it, Shelby Lynn.” Cody ran a hand down his stubbled jaw. “I don’t want you here. Too much is going on right now.”

She ignored the familiar sting. “Well, too bad, I’m staying.”

“You don’t belong here.”

That would leave a mark, she thought. The full impact of his statement cut as deep as if it had been a physical blow. Everything in her brain seemed to freeze as she stood paralyzed, in the middle of the kitchen, staring up at him, and willing her eyes to stay dry.

To Shelby, it seemed she’d spent her whole life trying to belong, to find a place that was hers. And for a brief moment, all those years ago with Cody, she’d stupidly thought she had. Then came the pain of rejection and the realization that in the end she wasn’t enough to make him happy.

Her heart still bore the scars.

The screen door’s hinge squeaked on its axis with enough force to combat the stiffness of a half century of openings and closings. Shelby forgot about Cody, forgot about their fight, forgot about everything the moment she saw Jacob standing there.

Dropping his backpack to the floor, his eyes narrowed in challenge.

How much had he heard?

If the stubborn set of his jaw and the way he stormed across the floor, placing his body between Cody and herself, were any indication—too much.

Jake looked much older than his nine years. Seeing him face-to-face with Cody broke Shelby’s heart. Until he’d been born, she’d never experienced the wonderful feeling of family. And to this day she never understood how Cody could have walked away.

Jake’s eyes settled on Cody, hard and unyielding. “What did you say to my mama?”

Shelby’s heart turned painfully in her chest. Dear God, this was not how it was supposed to happen.

Cody stood in his mama’s kitchen, his own scared eyes looking back at him, and the past was closing in with every breath he took. His mind raced through all of the implications.

The cute nose, cornflower eyes, and dusting of freckles might have been Shelby’s but everything else was his. Right down to the stubborn gleam flashing in the kid’s eyes and the thick, dark curls he and his brothers had hated growing up. Even the protective jut of the boy’s chin, which said he’d take on anyone who tried to mess with his mama, was a carbon copy of his own.

Son of a bitch. He had a son.

Cody Tucker, the guy who’d sworn off ever having kids for fear of the kind of man he was deep down inside, was a father.

This is
my
son.
My
own flesh and blood. A feeling too difficult to articulate and so unfamiliar overwhelmed him. Until he saw the accusation staring back at him.

Bile rose up, churning with anger and sheer impotence. Doing a quick calculation, Cody estimated the boy to be around nine. Nine years of bedtime stories, tossing the ball around, riding the range—gone. Nine years of his son not knowing who, or where, his father was.

Why the hell hadn’t Shelby ever told him?

An image flew into his head, bringing with it a harsh slap of reality. He remembered the terrified look in Shelby’s eyes as he straightened her clothes and grasped for the words to make what he’d done okay.

Scared and drowning in Tucker rage, Cody had just come back from The Crossing, where he’d found Beau a bloody mess. And for the first time in his life, Cody had given his old man a taste of his own temper.

Silas had been a mean bastard ever since Cody’s mom had died, starting with humiliation and swiftly moving on to fists. But nothing had prepared Cody for the mess that his dad’s final drunken rage had made of Beau.

After knocking Silas out cold, Cody packed up his kid brother, only seventeen at the time, took him to the hospital, and prepared to make good on his vow never to let Beau go back to that house.

With Noah stationed overseas, and not wanting Beau to wake up alone, Cody had kept a silent vigil by his bed, only leaving when the nurse convinced him to go home and clean up.

High on adrenaline and amped with fear, Cody pulled into Shelby’s place long after midnight. The minute he saw her standing there all warm and welcoming, worried out of her mind—over him, covered in two generations of Tucker blood—he’d lost it.

His self-control snapped and instead of showing her what he hadn’t been able to tell her with words, he took her against the wall. No finesse. No foreplay. He took her hard and fast and frantic and probably scared the shit out of her. She never once complained, but that look on her face said it all.

Too ashamed to look at her afterward, he’d zipped up his pants, straightened her nightgown and bolted. Checked into a motel, showered and returned to Beau’s side, scared that deep down he was just like his dad. And that even if he hadn’t managed to hurt her this time, the day would come when he would. It was in his blood.

But how would he reconcile
this
?

“Cody.” Shelby’s voice jerked him back. She placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder, as if trying to offer him the courage to get through the next few minutes. He saw her eyes mist over and her throat work to swallow. Looking over the boy’s head, she softened her features, pleading with him to make this okay. “This is Jacob.”

Jacob.
The backs of Cody’s eyes burned. Shelby had given their son his middle name.

Still numb and scrambling to act normal, Cody squatted down on his haunches and extended a hand toward the boy, figuring the best place to start was with respect. “It’s nice to meet you, Jacob. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Jacob said, giving Cody’s outstretched hand nothing more than a glance. When Shelby nudged him from behind, he dutifully added, “Sir,” in that polite kiss-my-ass tone only a Tucker could pull off. And if Cody hadn’t been concentrating on the fact that he was face-to-face with his own son, he would have laughed.

Jacob turned to talk to his mom, presenting Cody with his back. “Coach said anyone who’s late today has to give him a monster for
every
year old they are.”

With mock horror obviously meant to ease the growing tension between the two, she said, “Well then, I guess we better get a move on. Wouldn’t want you to have to do nine whole monsters!”

After a casual ruffle of his brown curls, one that made Cody feel like more of an outsider than he could have ever imagined, Shelby crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge. “How about I pack up a cheese stick and juice box while you go feed Bandit and grab your gear?”

“Okay. But hurry.” Jacob gave Cody one last glare, grabbed his backpack and an apple, and let the screen door slam on its hinges behind him.

Cody and Shelby stood silent, each second more painful than the last.

“This isn’t how I wanted it to happen.”

What was he supposed to say to that? Genuine regret or not, she’d just served him up a blow harder than anything his old man had ever dished out. Still reeling, he didn’t realize Shelby was leaving until she was halfway through the door.

“Hold up. You can’t drop that on me and then just walk out. I want answers.”

She stopped at the threshold. “You don’t think I know that? I get it, trust me. But right now I need to be Mama to a confused little boy.” She finally turned to address him, her eyes hollow. “Besides, I’ve never had a problem with running. That’s your M.O.”

“Eat up, kiddo, you still have to shower and do homework,” Shelby said, more to start a conversation than to speed up supper.

She wouldn’t mind stalling until she was good and sure Cody had eaten and they wouldn’t be forced to sit at that table in strained silence. Or worse, get into it in front of Jake. Which was partially why she’d brought Jake to The B-Cubed, so they could talk without having to hold back. Not that he was talking.

“Not really hungry,” Jake mumbled, smashing a fry with his finger.

Normally after a day of school and football, Jake inhaled a meal twice his size. Tonight though, he seemed sullen and withdrawn, picking and pushing at, more than eating, his food. He’d been this way since they left The Crossing and Shelby didn’t have to guess why. But it still hurt her heart.

Jake was a kid who liked to see what was coming. A side effect, Shelby thought sadly, that came from living with a man like Preston. If Jake knew what to expect, he could prepare himself for the letdown.

Cody showing up, right after Jake had accepted that his daddy wasn’t coming, had been hard to take. Especially on the heels of losing his grandpa. But to see his parents together for the first time, only to have them arguing . . . well, Shelby would just add it to her ever-growing list of stupid decisions where Jake was concerned.