Molly shook her head. “Did it work, Number Three? Is Andrew Heller a family man these days?”
Amanda’s mouth went dry. She could barely force a swallow. Her grandmother’s expression changed. She looked her age...and very sad.
“June and I didn’t talk much after that. Maybe she thought if she tried harder to be the perfect wife raising three perfect daughters he’d stop his philandering ways.” She looked up. “Did he quit fooling around on the side?”
Amanda started to come to her father’s defense but the words wouldn’t form in her mouth. Snippets of fights she’d heard over the years, her sisters’ worried whispers, rumors repeated behind her back at school—softly enough for her to pretend she didn’t hear—flashed through her mind. “They’re in Europe right now,” Amanda said, as if that made everything okay. “Mother says they’re having a wonderful time. A second honeymoon.”
Molly gave a chortle that sounded like she was choking. “Are you really so naive? Didn’t those older sisters of yours teach you anything?”
No. “We’ve never been close.”
“Why would you want to? Your mother sent them to me the summer before you were born. Did you know that? They were seven and nine. I called them Anastasia and Drizella.”
“The stepsisters from Cinderella?”
“Exactly. Spoiled, pampered little princesses who thought dirt was evil. I did my best to show them a slice of real life, but they wept and pouted and begged to go home. Your father showed up one day...with his pretty young secretary...to take them back.”
Pretty young traveling secretary? My father was cheating on my mother while she was pregnant with me?
“Look out, now. Apple cart filled with road apples flipping all around. The truth doesn’t smell too pretty when you step in it.”
Amanda actually smiled picturing the image Molly’s words brought to mind. “How do I know your version of history is true?”
“You know. Deep down.”
Molly took a bite from the daily brownie Amanda brought her. She’d found a local baker who added extra nutritious ingredients to make the sweet a beneficial treat. Molly chewed carefully. A sign the old woman’s false teeth weren’t fitting well?
Amanda made a mental note to take her grandmother to see a dentist.
Before Amanda could muster a reply, someone knocked on the open door. “Anyone home?”
“Tucker,” Amanda exclaimed. “This is a surprise. What can we do for you?”
He stepped into the room, looking halfway dressed up in navy-blue cargo shorts and a button-up shirt. “I missed you at PT today, Molly. I heard you’ve been moved to the mornings.” He produced a small bouquet of tulips from behind his back. “You look lovely, by the way. I like what you’ve done with your hair.”
Amanda’s heart did a little flip when she spotted her grandmother’s blush. Positively school girlish.
He carried a vase in his other hand. He stuck the flowers in a few inches of water and set the arrangement on the little table beside Amanda. “Isn’t anyone going to comment that I’m not using crutches?”
Amanda’s jaw dropped. Standing upright, he looked more like the man on the video. A lot more like the man on the video.
“Are you all healed?” Molly asked, filling the void left by Amanda’s sudden inability to swallow, let alone speak.
“No, Ma’am. Not completely. I have another couple of weeks of PT. But I’m doing so well, my doctor gave me a new walking cast.” He lifted his right knee to display his normal-looking foot encased in a high-top sports shoe that matched the one on his other foot. He pointed to two barely visible support straps. “It’s going to be uncomfortable if the weather warms up too fast around here, but it’s a step forward,” he said, winking broadly at his silly pun.
“A wiseacre,” Molly said. “I like a man who can make me laugh. Are you the one fixing up my place?”
Tucker bowed with a flourish. “Merely keeping an eye on things while your granddaughter tends to the more important goal of getting you back home.”
“A smooth-talking wiseacre,” she corrected. “You could do worse, Amanda. And he’s nice looking.” She leaned forward in her wheelchair. “Do you play poker?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Got any money?”
“Just enough to get in trouble.”
Molly threw back her head and cackled. “How ’bout you, Granddaughter? You got money...or are you betting on the come?”
“‘On the come?’ I’m not familiar with that term.”
Molly’s expression turned serious. “Did your folks pay you to be here or are you banking on getting a share of my estate once I’m gone?”
Amanda hadn’t expected such a blunt question. Nobody in her family knew the meaning of the word: transparent. “I’m not here for your money, Molly. I’m here because I’m between jobs and my mother asked me—” Ordered me. “—to make sure you were being taken care of properly. She’d gotten conflicting reports from your doctors and there was something about a lawsuit, which I’ve been told has been dropped since your insurance company settled with the driver whose car you hit with your scooter.”
“Weenie,” Molly muttered. “A bump. It was either him or the cop car. Never hit a cop car if you can avoid it,” she told Tucker.
“Truth,” he said starting toward them. “I hate to ask, Molly, but I need to borrow your granddaughter for a couple of hours. She’s my only set of wheels until the doc says I can drive. Would you mind?”
“Can you take me home first?”
“Not yet, Molly. The back deck is all torn up at the moment. They had to pour a new foundation so Paul Zabrinski’s crew could make room for a laundry room so you don’t have to go into the basement anymore.”
Molly didn’t look thrilled. Amanda wasn’t sure her grandmother had any idea what they were talking about. “You should rest, Grandma. I’ll be back in the morning to take you to your appointment.” She started to get up but realized they hadn’t talked about the letter.
“May I take this with me? I’ll call Mother to see what it’s all about. I’m sure she’s looking down the road.”
Molly made a gesture that appeared both defeated and exhausted. Amanda felt a fist squeeze her heart as she dropped a kiss on her grandmother’s crown. The white curls smelled of hairspray and a fruity shampoo. Despite the coiffure, her grandmother had never looked older and frailer.
She and Tucker left a few moments later.
“We need to get that work done as soon as possible,” she stated, hurrying through the exterior door. As much as she liked being able to spend time with Molly, she found the place depressing and emotionally draining.
A pleasantly cool breeze greeted them as they reached the parking lot. When Tucker didn’t say anything, she looked at him. A strand of hair danced across her face and he reacted before she could, gently catching the piece between his nimble fingers and looping it behind her ear. Then, he did something unexpected. He pulled her into a hug.
She didn’t come from a family of huggers. Air kisses? On rare occasions. Vocabulary, not touch, was their means of communication.
She stiffened out of habit, but Tucker didn’t seem to read body language. His big hands patted and stroked while his arms kept her from jumping away. Or, was she staying put because she liked this feeling? Body heat and shelter—not from the pleasant weather but from the turmoil brewing inside her? How did he know?
“Where have you been all week?” she wanted to ask, but instead she hit the remote to unlock the doors. “Where are we going?”
“It’s happy hour at Grey’s. Flynn and Kat and the SAR folks are coming in, and I owe them all a round.”
He grabbed her hand and led the way to Molly’s car, his limp masked by his obvious excitement.
The man was the biggest bundle of contradictions she’d ever met. And, as ridiculous as it seemed, she liked him.
“Don’t you think you should try a cane?”
Tucker eased h
is butt into the passenger seat and closed the door. The new brace looked more streamlined, but it rubbed against his anklebone. He probably should have tried to get the fit tweaked before the weekend, but he hadn’t wanted to miss this chance to hang out with Amanda in a social situation with other people.
His doctor had recommended Tucker use a cane for a couple of weeks, but Tucker couldn’t look at a cane without thinking about phone sex with Amanda. The woman had ruined him for cool walking sticks.
“As long as I don’t jog, play tag or break dance, I should be okay. My physical therapist is really pleased with my progress.” Amazed might be a better word.
“You’re a freaking superhero, dude,” the man said. “Whatever you’re doing in addition to what I told you to do, keep it up. At this rate, you’ll be dancing at the grand opening of your zip line.”
An old-fashioned barn dance had been one of Amanda’s ideas for the grand opening. And since they’d erected a temporary corral for the SAR Horse Troop that came to search for Brady Robinson, she’d suggested inviting the wranglers back to either give rides or be available to talk to the public.
“With any luck, we can solidify things with the horse people tonight.”
“You’re expecting someone from the horse unit to be at Grey’s?” she asked.
“Flynn said he’d call Austen Zabrinski. If Austen can’t make it, he’ll send someone else.”
“Cool.” She looked at him. “I like your friends. Flynn’s a really decent guy. And Kat’s called a bunch of times to see how Molly’s doing. You don’t see that a lot where I come from.”
New York City. His mom’s turf.
Mentioning the place brought back a conversation he’d had with his grandmother earlier in the day. She wanted a favor from him. “Your mother is going to be the soloist at a special event in early October. I’d like you to take me to it.”
Shock had robbed him of a voice, but she hadn’t really given him time to answer. That was Ona’s way. When she wanted something done, it got done. “George’s granddaughter is helping me this summer. I’ll have her make all the reservations. She’ll call you when she needs your credit card information.”
He’d laughed at that.
“You’ve been talking about taking me on a cruise for years. I live beside the water. It’s too late to change my relationship with the sea, but I’ve wanted to visit New York for a long time. This will be perfect.”
Perfectly onerous. He’d faked a pleasant response and agreed to think about it. “I have a lot going on with the zip line, Ona. It doesn’t look like we’re going to be able to open until the second week in July. I was shooting for July 1, but some of our safety gear—the kind of stuff you can’t zip without—is on backorder.”
He’d nearly punched his hand through the canvas wall of Justin’s tent when he heard the news. “Can you believe that, Ona? I put in my order months ago, but, apparently, when I asked them to delay delivery because I don’t have an empty warehouse to store this kind of stuff, they decided to sell my crap to someone in Japan. Japan. Is that wrong or what?”
She’d sympathized, of course, but his grandmother firmly believed things happened for a reason. Only one reason made sense to Tucker: Someone up There hates me. Or maybe Ona’s charm got put in the hole wrong side up.
“Anyway. I don’t know about October, Ona, but I’ll try.”
What else could he do? Ona didn’t ask him for much and he owed her everything. He could handle a meet and greet with his estranged mother, too. What the hell? His whole life was fake, what difference could a few hours with Caroline Mayhue make?
“You’re kind of quiet tonight,” Amanda said as they turned on Main. “Is everything okay with the house?”
Tucker took a deep breath and looked around. They’d reached Main Street. Time to get his Party Animal mask in place. “I’m good. They delivered the new washer and dryer today. High end. You have expensive taste. I know these things because Flynn used to be married to a woman who, in his opinion, had caviar taste on a civil servant salary.”
As she waited for a dusty pickup truck to open up a parking place, she gave him a look that said, “Seriously?” He fought the blush that worked its way up his neck. He needed a new strategy where Amanda was concerned. Avoiding her had been good for his ankle, but no amount of working out made him want her less. And, it would appear, picking a fight wasn’t happening, either.
“My mother ordered the set online,” she told him sensibly. “I gave her the size opening as per your notes. Hopefully, they fit.”
She hit her blinker, parked and turned off the engine.
Before Tucker could open the car door, she reached out and put a hand on his bare arm. “Can we clear the air before we go inside?”
He gave her his patented “It’s all good, Cher” smile. “Everything’s cool. I just need a beer.”
She rolled her eyes. “So, that’s how you want to play this?”
“Play what?”
She made a back and forth gesture. “This thing between us.” Her shoulders slumped momentarily, but he knew the moment she made up her mind not to give in to fatigue or frustration or the emotional quagmire of her family drama. “Never mind. A beer sounds great.”
She was gone before he could collect his balls and do the right thing. He muttered a profanity that felt good for half a second, but provided no real satisfaction. Only one thing would do that—making love with Amanda Heller. A complication he’d foolishly thought he could handle. But from the moment she’d appeared in the doorway of her grandmother’s guesthouse with two suitcases and half a dozen cloth tote bags filled with stuff she’d accumulated in her brief stay, Tucker knew he was doomed.
He got her. The tiny flashes of vulnerability that gave him a glimpse into the real person under the façade fueled an addiction he fought with all his might. In the past week, he’d pumped a million or so pounds of iron, seen an acupuncturist, a cranial something or other, and a massage therapist, in addition to his regular physical therapy. And when he wasn’t abusing his muscles, he’d hobbled around the remodeling project, trying to convince himself he was being helpful.
Exhaustion should have worked—it always did when he was on the fire line or caught in the middle of some artistic squabble at American Male. But, instead, he’d wrestled his sheets into submission every night, his body searching for the body he desired beyond logic.
He opened the big, heavy door and got out, taking a moment to get his balance. When he closed the door and started toward the bar, he spotted Amanda waiting by the curb, probably thinking he’d need her help. Screw that. He marched to her.
In her new flats, they were eye level. “You want truth and emotional honesty?” He snaked an arm around her back and pulled her hard against his chest. “How ’bout we start with sex and see where it goes from there?”
He kissed her the way he would have if he’d been in her room at the Graff that night. She kissed him back with a passion he’d seen glimpses of but hadn’t fully experienced. They kissed until some wise guy shouted, “Get a room,” from a passing car.
She pulled back, eyes wide. “Now, I really need a beer. And a shot.”
He laughed and stepped up to loop one arm across her shoulders. “First one’s on me.” Not that he had any intention of drinking. He’d perfected his party boy image years ago. He knew exactly how to drink without really imbibing.
Amanda grabbed the door before he could. An emasculating habit he would have to break her of. “What the hell is wrong with the men in New York City that they don’t know the proper way to show respect for women?”
His question earned him a low, sexy chuckle. “Worried that someone will question your masculinity?” She leaned in close to trail her fingers across his pecs. “I think you’re safe. And, in answer to your question, New York women learn pretty fast to open doors themselves if they want to get inside.”
He heard more to her comment than a clever quip. Personal pain? Frustration? He didn�
�t get a chance to follow up, though, because the moment they walked into the bar, a table filled with friendly faces—some familiar, some new—gave a shout. “Over here, you two.”
You two. A novelty. One he’d avoided for thirty-two years. Strangely, he didn’t mind being thought of as half of a pair when Amanda was at his side. Flynn had a new lady—and her son—in his life and seemed over-the-moon happy. Loner Justin might always be content with his single status. Unlike Tucker, Justin never needed to fill the void of his lonely nights with any warm body that asked.
Although those days were long gone. Tucker had given up on groupies a couple of years back when a beautiful young thing stole his Rolex and cash while he was in the shower. They hadn’t even made it to bed, dammit.
And the worst part? He couldn’t identify her to the police because, in all honesty, the frisky young groupies all looked alike to him.
“Hi, everybody,” Tucker said. “Who’s new here?”
He pointed at a pretty redhead sitting beside Kat. The woman raised her hand. “I’m Serena James. Austen asked me to fill in. He’s still in Helena.” She scooted sideways and pointed to two chairs she’d apparently been saving. “I think we may have met at some Zabrinski function, but I haven’t had a chance to make Amanda’s acquaintance.”
Tucker made the connection, of course. He knew a lot about the Zabrinski family since Flynn’s brother, Ryker, was marrying Mia Zabrinski on July fourth—a mere two weeks from tomorrow. And, with any luck, the grand opening of Mountie’s Marvelous Montana Zip Line would take place the weekend after the wedding.
Please, God, let Ona’s charm work.
“Where are your crutches?” Flynn asked, his tone all big brother.
Tucker patted his pockets. “I have a note from my doctor explaining that I’m ahead of schedule—recovery-wise. Honest. I do.”
Kat clapped. “Good news. What are you two drinking?”
Two hours flew by in a blink. Amanda seemed thrilled by Serena’s enthusiastic ideas to help make the zip line’s grand opening a stellar event. Other people contributed ideas of their own. Amanda’s fingers flew across the screen of her tablet. After Flynn and Kat excused themselves to play a little pool, and the others scattered, Tucker ordered a plate of nachos.
Montana Rogue (Big Sky Mavericks Book 7) Page 9
