He nodded and went to the corner to retrieve his guitar case. In the pocket was a notebook where he jotted down ideas. He had the melody for a song but was still working it out.
He was playing with his eyes closed, waiting for some inspiration, when he felt the sofa shift.
“That’s amazing,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“That you can play the guitar with your eyes closed.” For the first time since he was a little kid, she wasn’t looking at him like he was an annoyance she was being subjected to.
She was actually quite beautiful when she wasn’t acting all uppity. He’d known she was beautiful a long time ago but had forgotten. He smiled at her comment.
“I’m not really playing anything. I’m just fooling around, trying to work out a melody.”
“That wasn’t a song?” she said in confusion.
“No.”
“Wow. It sounded like a song to me.” She shook her head. “That is such a gift, Tucker. I hope you don’t take it for granted.”
He’d never really given it much thought before. He tilted his head while he considered it being a gift.
“You help people heal. That’s a better gift,” he allowed.
“That’s a skill. I went to school to learn how to do that. This just comes out of you. That makes it a gift.”
“I thought you agreed not to make me feel stupid.” He raised a brow at her but smiled.
“I don’t see how that’s possible when you can do that.” She gestured toward the guitar in his hands. “I’m so jealous.”
“Really?” He grinned.
“When I was younger, my mother insisted I learn a musical instrument. She made me choose between a violin and a cello. After a few months, though, she was okay with me playing a triangle.”
“A triangle?” He laughed.
“Don’t knock it. It takes a special talent to play the triangle.”
“So it’s not just hitting the side of it with the little stick?” he asked with his brows creased.
“Okay, maybe that’s all there is to it.” She laughed. Not her fake laugh, which she put on for people, but a real one.
For the first time in a long time he felt something other than irritation when he looked into her blue-green eyes.
“Let me teach you how to play the guitar,” he suggested and held it out for her.
“No!” She backed away, as if the guitar was an infant that shouldn’t be entrusted to her.
“You’re not going to break it, Nic. Just rest it on your leg and hold it like I’m doing.”
“You’re left-handed. This isn’t going to work.”
“I’ll teach you left-handed. You won’t know the difference. Besides, it’s the best way anyway.” He winked at her, and after a huge sigh, she took the instrument from him.
“Take this.” He handed her a pick from his case. “We’re going to start with some chords and your strum pattern.”
“I’m not going to be able to do this, Tucker. I have absolutely no musical ability whatsoever.”
“What you don’t have in musical ability you seem to make up for in a bad attitude.”
She let her shoulders fall in defeat. “What do I do?” she asked flatly.
He moved closer and caught a whiff of some delicious smell coming off her body. God, she smelled like vanilla frosting. He swallowed and focused on his task.
“Hold the pick like this.” He demonstrated with another pick and she mimicked him perfectly. “Then glide the pick lightly over the strings.” He held her wrist and guided her, filling the room with sound. “That was a strum.”
“It didn’t sound so bad.”
“No. You can’t really mess it up unless the guitar is out of tune.”
“Tune? I don’t know what that is.” She laughed.
He showed her how to hold her fingers to make a G chord, and then she strummed again. Her face lit up when she did it successfully.
“Did you fucking hear that?” she said, making him laugh. “Watch out, Tuck, I’m going to want to join your band now.”
“I don’t have a band anymore.”
“That’s right. What happened?” She seemed genuinely interested, and not just for dirt to throw back in his face.
“Life.” He shrugged it off. He didn’t want to go into details.
“What’s next?” she asked excitedly.
She had mastered three chords by the time Tucker’s stomach started growling.
He picked up his phone to see it was nearly one and he had a missed call.
“Damn it!” he said. “The guy never showed.” He held the phone up to his ear to hear the message. “It’s the tent guy,” he told Nichole, who was looking at her own phone now.
“Hi, this is Jake Nethers from Tent-n-Rent. I’m not going to make it up there today. The ice is too bad. Best not to risk it. I’ll call you back tomorrow to reschedule.”
“Ice?” Tucker was saying to himself as he watched Nichole on her phone.
“The electrician isn’t coming because of the weather,” she announced, pointing at her phone in confusion.
He glanced over at the rain-streaked windows and frowned. Then he went to the front door and pulled it open, staring at the sight in front of him.
The shiny red Corvette was even shinier with an inch of ice covering it. Power lines and trees were all burdened with four-inch icicles.
“Shit,” he said before he turned to Nichole. “This is probably where you’re going to blame me for not bringing the Land Rover.”
Chapter 4
Nichole wasn’t going to blame him. She hadn’t wanted to drive, and though she had made fun of the Vette, she’d been secretly hoping he would let her drive it on the way back.
Not very likely at this point because they were probably going to die there.
“Do you think we can get out of here?” she asked with hope in her voice.
“I don’t think I would want to risk it.” He ran his fingers through his hair and stepped back inside. “These roads up here don’t even have guardrails. What if we went over and you got hurt?” He shook his head again and she stared at him in surprise.
She thought he was worried about the car, but he was worried about her? Apparently, Tucker Matthews had grown up some in the three years since she’d seen him.
“I’ll call Cooper,” she said and went across the room to the wall of glass. Tiny drops of ice were tapping against the large windows where they refroze, forming a shell around the cabin.
“Are you the sole survivor of the trip?” Cooper asked with a laugh.
“No. We both made it. But we might not make it back down today. The rain turned into ice and now the road is a mess.”
“Did he insist on taking the Vette?”
“Yep.”
“Please don’t run over my baby brother with his own car,” Coop asked.
Cooper had always been forced to play referee between Nichole and Tucker. The really strange thing was that both she and Tucker disliked each other because they were looking out for Cooper and found the other one unworthy of his affections. It was quite the triangle of dysfunction, now that she thought about it.
“I won’t,” she promised.
“I appreciate it.”
“I hope it’s not like this on Saturday for the wedding.”
“The weather up there changes so fast, who knows what it will be doing? It might be ninety degrees.”
“Do you want to talk to Tucker?” she offered.
“Sure.”
She gave her phone to Tucker and went to the kitchen to check out the food supply.
After a few grunts, Tucker came in to join her.
“He says there should be plenty of food to get us by for a day or two.”
“A day or two?” she squeaked.
“Coop says it sometimes takes a while until they can put sand down.”
It was fairly rural here. She decided it could be worse. They could have slid off the side of the mou
ntain and died. She took a deep breath and focused on the contents of the refrigerator.
“There’s wine and beer; which would you like?” she asked.
“Neither. I’m fine with water.” He held up his half-empty bottle.
She eyed him suspiciously but shrugged and took out a bottle of red wine. After searching a few cabinets and drawers, she found the glasses and a corkscrew.
He leaned against the counter, watching her struggle with the cork.
“Seriously?” she huffed as he smiled.
“I’m standing right here. Why don’t you ask me to help you?” He laughed and bumped her out of the way with his hip. “You’re so stubborn. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Numerous people. Apparently, I’m too stubborn to pay attention.” She smiled widely at him and then gave him an exaggerated “Thanks” when he was done.
They sat in the living room, and she watched as Tucker made them a fire.
“So that one time I dropped you off for Boy Scouts is finally paying off.”
“Actually, it was two times.” She tilted her head, trying to remember the second time but shook it off. He had always been her best friend’s pesky younger brother. She hadn’t given him much thought when they were younger. When he was a teenager, he became a handful for Cooper, and she was constantly telling him to let Tucker sink or swim on his own. After all, no one had been there to bail Cooper out of trouble.
Granted he hadn’t ever been in any trouble, but still, he didn’t have a father either.
But Cooper was always there for Tucker. Working out issues with his teachers, setting up interviews, and literally bailing him out of jail. Well, juvenile detention, but it was the same thing.
Then he’d thanked his older brother by dropping out of college. Multiple times. As far as Nichole knew, he’d never even offered to pay Cooper back.
That was the reason Nichole couldn’t stand Tucker. He was a user. And from what she’d seen during his ten minutes of fame, he’d been using up as many naïve girls as would throw themselves at him.
She sniffed out loud at the thought, and he turned from the fire to look at her.
“What? Am I doing this wrong, too?”
“No. Sorry. I was thinking about something else,” she said. She picked up the guitar and the pick and practiced the chords he’d shown her so far. It wasn’t like they had a television to watch to pass the time.
He sat next to her and rested his arm against the back of the sofa so he could lean in closer to position her fingers. She could feel the heat coming off his body. It wasn’t a bad feeling.
“Very good. Are you ready to mix it up?” he asked.
“Probably not,” she said honestly.
“You’re so adventurous.”
“All right. Tell me what to do.”
He held out his hands for the guitar and she handed it over. As he moved, she noticed he smelled nice. She had noticed it earlier but hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on it. Now, as he strummed the guitar, she took a moment to inhale his scent.
It was some light cologne and soap. There may have been some hair product mixed in there, too. His shaggy hair fell a little too perfectly to be naturally styled. She guessed he probably paid a pretty penny to some fancy salon in New York to have it fall just so.
She watched his long, dark lashes against his cheeks as he looked down at the guitar. When his gaze moved up she could see his brown eyes—lighter than his brother’s—with flecks of gold shooting out from the irises.
His full lips pulled up in a smile.
“You got that?” he asked.
“Uh. Can you show me one more time?” she stalled because she hadn’t been paying attention.
He instructed her again, and this time she nodded and took the instrument from him, ready to give it a try.
She fumbled her way through and he was very generous with his praise.
“Not too bad for your first time. You’ll have the whole song down in no time.”
“That was a song?”
He chuckled lightly. “Yes. ‘Stairway to Heaven.’ It’s a rule that you have to learn that song first.”
“And you’re all about following the rules now?”
“I’m trying.” He shrugged and took the guitar back to show her the next part while she took a sip of her wine. His water was gone.
“Are you ready for a beer?” she asked, nodding to his empty bottle.
“No, I’m fine right now.”
She tilted her head. “What’s up with you? As I recall, the last time I saw you, you had a bottle adhered to your hand.”
He squinted at her as he looked up.
“Cooper really didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“I’m almost a year sober. I went through a very grueling couple of months in rehab for drugs and alcohol.”
“Oh, shit.” She squeezed her eyes closed and looked at her empty glass of wine. “I’m so sorry, Tucker. I had no idea. You must think I’m a total bitch for making you open that bottle. Why didn’t you say something?” She pounded her palm into her forehead. “I’m such an idiot.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay, Nic. I’m fine. If you want to have another glass, it’s really okay. I don’t mind.”
“No way.”
“Come on. I don’t want to be the reason you’re not drunk and more fun.” He grinned up at her, and she realized he was incredibly sexy. Not just the gold-brown eyes or the shaggy hair but his smile and the way the muscles in his forearms flexed as he strummed the guitar randomly.
She also noticed the leather cuff on his right wrist. Yes, very sexy.
He raised a brow at her while she stared.
“It’s okay, really. Go get more wine. It’s not like I’m some hungry vampire who’ll lose control or something.”
“You’re sure?” she checked.
“One hundred percent. Besides, wine was never my thing. I had a problem with whiskey and pain killers and a little coke mixed in.”
“Coke?”
He smiled.
“Not Coke like the soda. Cocaine.”
Of course that’s what he meant. It was just that her brain couldn’t reconcile the idea of Tucker Matthews snorting cocaine. He’d always broken the rules, but that was beyond what she thought he was capable of.
“Oh!” She stared at him, seeing him more clearly.
“Please don’t look at me like that. I’m not a zoo animal.”
“Right. Sorry.” She turned and went into the kitchen. She got the wine and filled her glass, thinking about the man in the living room and what he’d been through.
Almost a year sober was definitely an accomplishment. Something he would have had to do on his own. Cooper wouldn’t have been able to help him through that. She wondered why Cooper hadn’t mentioned it. Had he been embarrassed by Tucker?
Or was it that Cooper, knowing how much Nichole disliked his brother, probably hadn’t wanted to add fuel to the fire?
She felt the guilt weigh heavily on her shoulders as she carried her wine back into the living room and sat down next to the man she had a newfound respect for.
He was playing random notes and humming as she walked in.
“What is that you’re playing? I like it.”
“It’s a new song I’m working on.”
“You do new stuff?”
“Yeah. Then I sell it to other artists.”
“You don’t perform on your own anymore?” She couldn’t imagine creating something so personal just to let someone else take it as their own.
“Nope. As much as I hate the idea of being a one-hit wonder, that’s all I’ve managed so far.”
“You had other songs.” She remembered having one of his CDs.
“Yeah, but only that ‘Fire and Ice’ song made the charts.”
“Oh.” She sat down next to him. “What is this song about?” she asked.
“Not completely sure yet. I haven’t worked out the words. I have a few
ideas, but it’s not coming together right.” He nodded toward a notebook and she picked it up.
“Can I look?”
“Sure.” He grinned. “I’m not sure if you can read it.”
The notebook was open to a page with cramped, tiny handwriting. She held it out and laughed, but then focused on the words. Compared to reading doctor’s writing, this was easy.
“ ‘All I have is yours. All I am,’ ” she read.
“Don’t read it out loud,” he said, embarrassed.
“Why not? It’s good.”
“I said it wasn’t done.” He frowned.
“I like this part: ‘You make me want to be better, do better.’”
“It goes like this.” He played it and sang the words to the music.
“Yeah. That’s nice.” When he sang, his voice turned low and gravelly. Very sexy.
“I don’t know where it goes from there. I keep coming back to ‘you complete me.’” He laughed and she laughed along.
“Yeah. Don’t do that.”
She read the words and then said, “ ‘Can I be enough for you? All I am I give freely. Is it enough?’ ” He froze and looked at her blankly. She could feel her cheeks flush and closed her eyes, wincing. “Forget it. That sucked. That’s why I played the triangle.” She opened her eyes, expecting him to laugh, but he didn’t.
Instead he reached for the notebook and wrote it down.
“That was awesome, Nic. I’m using that.”
“Really?” she said in surprise.
“Yeah. It was perfect.” He strummed and then sang it. He was right; it did sound perfect.
“Wow.”
“What else?” he asked, nudging her with his arm.
“I don’t know. It’s harder when there’s pressure.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” He smiled, his brown eyes warming over. She couldn’t help but get lost in them.
“‘Your eyes are home. Invite me in. I want to stay forever,’” she said out loud without meaning to.
His mouth opened slightly, and once again he was staring at her.
She didn’t know what was happening. She hadn’t meant to say those words, but they were right.
She waited for him to write them in the notebook, but he didn’t. Instead, he put the guitar down slowly and wet his bottom lip with his tongue. His gaze never moved from hers.
Nick Of Time (Blue Ridge Romance 2) Page 4
