Tucker (The Family Simon) (18 page)

He cleared his throat. Ran his hand through the hair at his nape, hair that he’d let grow out. Hair that only last night she’d gripped between her fingers when they’d made love.

Damn. They’d been so close. As close as a man and woman could be without…

Without saying the three words that could bring them even closer. I. Love. You.

Suddenly overwhelmed, Abby turned away and muttered. “Never mind.”

When does he have time for someone like you?

Those had been Tucker’s words. Words that pretty much said it all. Someone like you. Someone who doesn’t matter. And that’s exactly what this was about. At least for her.

Abby was smart enough to know there was a whole lot more going on than a few choice words that hurt. Ever since that first night that she’d stayed over at Tucker’s, she’d been walking on glass. Afraid to be happy. Afraid of not being happy. Afraid of being afraid.

Afraid of loving him.

Afraid of never being loved in return. It was exhausting, pretending that everything was perfect, because perfect was nothing more than an illusion. She loved this man and he— She had no idea what was going on inside his head.

“Hey.” His voice was low and had that bit of roughness she loved. She felt his warmth at her back and closed her eyes, wishing that she could melt into him and forget it all. But she couldn’t. Abby had her pride.

His hands were on her shoulders. “I acted like an asshole.”

“Yep.”

“But Kendrick pissed me off.”

She wiggled out of his hands and turned around so that she could face him. “Why?”

His dark eyes studied her for the longest time, and then he shrugged. “I don’t like him touching you. I was…I was jealous.”

“Jealous,” she repeated. That something inside her flipped around causing her heart to speed up and her face to burn. She had to shut that stuff down right now, because jealously didn’t mean any more than a loss of control. It wasn’t love. It was the fear of losing a possession.

“He had his hand on you, and I didn’t like it.”

“So you decided to throw me over your shoulder like fucking Tarzan and tear out of the Terrace Room of The Plaza Hotel in front of, I don’t know, 350 guests?”

“400.”

“What?” she snapped.

“There were 400 guests.”

Silence fell between them, and then Abby spoke, clearly and concisely. Mick would have been proud. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Abby.” He moved forward, but she moved back a step. “What the hell are you saying? I acted like a dick. I admit it. I was jealous as fuck and acted like a goddamn fifteen-year-old.” Tucker’s face was dark and intense, and he crowded her until the back of her legs pressed against her bed.

Couldn’t he see what was inside her? Why couldn’t he see?

“You’ve surprised me,” Tucker said, almost to himself.

“What do you mean?”

Jesus. Just tell him to leave and get it over with.

His hand was now in her hair, and it took everything that she had not to lean into his touch. His other hand crept up and cupped her jaw, his thumb rolling over her bottom lip in a slow, sensual way.

She was falling. There was no other way about it. She would fall into a puddle at his feet, and he could stomp all over her.

“You, my friend, have knocked me on my ass.”

“Take your hands off of me, Tucker. I can’t think straight when you’re touching me.”

He grinned at that but didn’t let go. Instead he lowered his head until he was so close to her that she could count every single eyelash if she wanted to.

“Abby, I was jealous as fuck because I don’t want another man touching you. I don’t want another man looking at you, and I sure as hell want to know if you’re having conversations about art with Dean Kendrick.” He drew in a ragged breath and Abby watched him, her heart pounding crazily. He had to see what was in her eyes. He
had
to know.

“This thing between us has gone way past casual. It’s so far past casual that I’m…”

“You’re?” Hope flared inside her. She couldn’t help it.

“I’m thinking things that I never thought possible again. Ever.” His hands slid back along her jaw and he dipped his head so that his warm breath fell against her earlobe.

“I’m thinking of the future. I’m thinking of a future with you in it.”

Startled, Abby blinked rapidly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that the last month has been incredible. I’m saying that when I wake up in the morning and you’re not there I don’t like it. I’m saying that the highlight of my day is when I come to the bar and watch you work, or meet you for dinner and then we go back to my place and have lots of hot sex.”

She was breathless. There was no air inside her.

“I’m saying that watching the way your eyes shimmer when you’re about to come because I’m inside you is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” His mouth moved up her jawline so slowly that her toes curled by the time he made it to her lips.

And then he murmured against her.

“I’m saying that I want you to come up north to the cottage with me to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family and that when we come home…”

God, she couldn’t think straight. “What?” she whispered into his mouth.

“I want you to move in with me.”

***

>“So you’re heading up to Canada with Tucker?”

Abby cleaned out the lemon tray and nodded. “Yep.” It was the Tuesday night before the long weekend and the bar had been hopping. New York had seen its first snowfall and the city was coated in several inches of the white stuff. It was crisp and clear, and, for now, clean outside.

With Christmas decorations twinkling from windows and Thanksgiving two days away, most of the city was in a good mood. Heck, Abby was in a great mood. She’d be in an even better mood once they were closed up, because she was off until after the holidays.

She glanced up at her brother Mick, whose frown was as dark as the thick waves on top of his head.

“Jesus, Mick, have you looked like that all day or did someone just now shit in your cornflakes?”

“Very funny.”

She shrugged and grabbed the lime tray.

Her roommate Lisa, slid up to the bar and sat her butt down. She was still nursing a beer, peeling the label back while she waited for Abby to finish.

“Did she tell you that she’s moving in with him?” Lisa said quietly, eyes still on the label of her beer bottle.

Abby’s head shot up, and if looks could kill, Lisa would be minus a head right now. She knew her roommate was worried that things were moving too fast between Abby and Tucker, but still, this was Abby’s decision, not Lisa’s. Besides, it’s not as if she was giving up her apartment.
That
would be stupid.

“Abigail—“

“Don’t start, Mick. I’m a big girl.” She narrowed her eyes as she glanced across the bar at Lisa. “And I haven’t made up my mind yet, but…”

“But,” Mick prompted.

“I’m thinking about it.”

Mick tossed his rag onto the bar. “What the hell do you see in that guy? Jesus Christ, I know he’s pretty. I know he’s filthy rich, but Abigail—“

“I hate when you call me Abigail.”

“It’s your name.”

“You sound just like Dad.”

Mick grabbed her hand—gently—and she looked up at him, eyes shining, heart bursting inside her.

“I love him, Mick.” There. She’d said the words out loud. “I
love
him,” she said again.

Mick’s hand fell away. “Wow. I knew you were in deep, but I sure as shit didn’t know you were all in.”

Abby let the tray fall back into the sink. “I’ve pretty much loved Tucker Simon since that first night he walked into this bar.” She nodded toward Lisa. “He sat there, he smiled up at me and I just…I just knew that he would change my life.”

Oh. God. To hear the words come out of her own mouth. To own those words…that was life changing.

For a moment there was silence, and then Mick spoke gruffly. “His situation is complicated.”

She nodded.

“I’m pretty damn sure he’s still married.”

Again she nodded. As far as Abby knew, his wife, Marley, had never been legally declared dead.

“Does he know that you love him?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Does he love you?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you’re going to spend Thanksgiving with him.”

Slowly, she nodded.

“Well,” Mick said, his arm sliding across her shoulder. “Guess it’s time you figured that shit out.”

Abby leaned into her brother, eyes on her best friend, Lisa. She was anxious, scared and trying like hell not to be too hopeful. It was hard. Tucker had asked her to think about moving in with him. He’d mentioned the word future, and that had pretty much bounced around her head for the past few days.

Heck, who was she kidding? It was
all
she could think about.

“But Abigail, if he breaks your heart I
will
hurt him.” Her brother wasn’t teasing and she knew him well enough to know that he would try.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Okay.

Chapter Twenty-one

The Simon family home in Gravenhurst, Ontario on the banks of Lake Muskoka was one of those places where Tucker always felt comfortable. God, but he loved it up here. There were no cameras. No paparazzi. No business meetings. No distractions. Nothing but the fresh air, the lake, and a house large enough to fit the entire Simon clan.

Although as he gazed down at the chaos in the kitchen, he wasn’t so sure it would survive all the add-ons.

The add-ons being, Betty Jo Barker. His sister Grace’s current romance du jour, some trendy hipster named Harry who refused to take his beanie off. Jack’s girlfriend, Monique. And well, the one add-on he couldn’t take his eyes off of, Abby.

His brother Teague was somewhere in South America—nobody knew where exactly—and Tucker’s hope of seeing his twin was long gone. The last time he’d talked to Teague had been the week before, but even that conversation had been short. Tucker hadn’t even had the chance to tell him about Abby.

And now it was Wednesday, closing in on nine o’clock and dark as sin outside. Not one star in the sky. He and Abby had arrived a few hours earlier. They’d met up with Grace and Harry at LaGuardia, flown to Toronto and then driven up north. The family had indulged in some beers and Chinese food, and while Beau and his father were busy getting the fireplace going, the girls were relaxing in the kitchen and Tucker had escaped upstairs for some quiet.

But he wasn’t alone.

Jack leaned over the second floor railing and gazed down at the kitchen as well. The great-big-ass-room, as they called it, was massive, open concept, with a full bank of windows that overlooked the lake. All of the bedrooms fed off an upper walkway that extended three quarters around. When Tucker was much smaller, he and his brothers would have epic spitball wars, shooting anyone who walked into the room.

God, those were the days.

Jack cleared his throat and shook his head. “How is it that you can pull the kind of stunt that you pulled at the fundraiser and still manage to convince that girl to come up here with you?”

Tucker grinned. “My charm?”

Jack stood up, arms crossed over his chest as he continued to gaze below. Dressed in a plain white T-shirt, old worn jeans, and sporting more than a couple days of growth on his chin, Tucker’s older brother looked about as far removed from Washington as one could get.

Tucker kinda missed that look on him.

“Christ, I don’t know what Monique would do if I pulled a stunt like that.”

Tucker’s eyes swung to Jack’s girlfriend. The woman was perched on the edge of a sofa, trying to look interested in what Betty, Abby, and his mother were discussing. But even from here, it looked as if the woman was bored as hell. Guess they weren’t discussing the color of paint on the walls or what would look better on the windows, some of that frilly see-through shit or California shutters.

“Why is Monique even here?” Tucker asked suddenly.

Jack’s head swiveled his way. “What do you mean? It’s Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah. Thanksgiving. A time you spend with your family. Those who matter.”

Jack’s eyebrows knitted together, and he unfolded his arms. “Say again?”

Tucker shrugged. “I just don’t get you two is all. Actually, I don’t get a lot of the women you’ve dated over the past five years. They’re nothing like—“

“Don’t say it,” Jack bit out.

“Donovan.”

Tucker studied his brother. Jack’s face was dangerously pissed off, and his hands were clenched at his sides. Huh.

Donovan James was an outrageous, sexy as hell singer with a bit of twang, a bit of rock and roll and a whole lot of attitude. She’d ridden that attitude all the way to the top of the charts in more countries than you could count on both hands, and graced as many trashy magazines or even more than their brother Beau. A few years back and more than a lifetime ago, she’d been the love of a very young Jack Simon’s life.

She was, in Tucker’s opinion, the one that got away.

“Don’t go there with me, Tuck,” Jack warned, sounding seriously pissed off.

Tucker shoved away from the railing and faced his brother. “Look, I don’t want to start something, but Jack, Monique isn’t the right girl for you. She’s nowhere near what you need, and if you don’t watch out, you’ll end up married and miserable. Just saying.”

“That’s pretty ballsy of you to be handing out relationship advice. From what I’ve heard, you’ve been banging a shit-ton of women in the city for the past year. And yeah, I know Mom’s all about you getting back out there, but I think you’re going about it all wrong. What’s Abby? Just another body in your bed while you try to decide whether or not you want to live a real life without Marley?”

“This has nothing to do with Marley.”

Tucker clamped his mouth. A muscle worked its way across his cheek as he studied his brother.

“Are you sure, Tucker? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like it has everything to do with Marley.”

Tucker glared at his brother. He glared at him for so long that his shoulder muscles stretched and tightened.