by Doyle, Jen
He got to Deacon’s at the tail end of the lunch rush, and it pleased him to no end that she smiled and waved from the back corner booth when he walked in. Zach twisted his head around to see who she’d waved at. The look on his face was both comical and concerning. Tuck didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that hadn’t quite lifted off the ground—and might not ever—for Karen’s sake as well as his own. But he couldn’t deny he had a big, wide grin on his own face, too, as he headed over to the bar to wait for her to be done.
Deke noticed, of course—the man noticed everything that happened in his place—and although he didn’t do much other than nod from the other end of the bar right away, when he finally made his way over, his grin was bigger than Tuck’s.
Oh, shit.
The man winked as he wiped down the bar. “What can I get you? A little tequila to bolster up those nerves? Or should we just head right into oyster and chocolate territory?”
“What makes you think my nerves need to be bolstered?” Just because Tuck didn’t put all his business out there for everyone to know, didn’t mean he didn’t have any. Not that he came close to Deke’s pre-marriage days, but still.
He’d apparently done a poor job at keeping the irritation out of his voice, because Deke just laughed and held his hands up in surrender.
Damn right. Although Tuck had coached Deke at both Little League and basketball back in the day, there were only a few years between them and Tuck could still put the hurt on Deke’s whole crew at their weekly basketball games. “No worries. I don’t need any extra protein to wipe the floor with you on Saturday.”
“Looking forward to it, Old Man.” Deke’s eyes tracked past Tuck’s shoulder and he turned to see Karen and Zachary standing there.
“You’re a sportsball player, too?”
From the way she asked, Tuck couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad thing. Typically, he’d say that the way she scanned his body would be good, but her gaze was nearly clinical as she took everything in. Or, at least, it was clinical until it shifted to Deke, at which point her expression grew warm.
The flash of possession hit so hard Tuck wasn’t sure what to do with it. He wanted to throw his arm around her shoulder, pull her to him, and growl, Mine, to Deke. Since he was coming to understand she reserved her warmth and humor for people she specifically kept at a distance, he instead tried to keep a bland smile on his face as Deke answered, “He’s the ultimate sportsball player. He taught us all everything we know. We, of course, then went on to perfect it and blow him out of the water.”
“So much bluster,” Tuck answered, “so little bite.”
“Ouch,” Deke said, his hands going to his chest as he staggered back playfully, right into his wife.
Fitz’s arms went around his waist as she looked up at him. “Oh, he’s got a lot of bite in him. In all sorts of ways.”
Even after a year it was strange to see Deke and Fitz together like that—hell, Fitz with anyone like that, considering how much she’d held in for so much of her life—but it was exactly the kind of thing Tuck wanted to shout to the rooftops about. He loved these people, and he was sure Karen would, too. If she got to know them.
Speaking of which... “Karen, Fitz oversees the Iowa Dream Foundation. She’s one of the people helping to pull things together for Taylor and Gabe.”
“Karen Carmichael?” Fitz asked in an almost overly polite tone, which seemed...strange. And at the sound of her full name, Deke looked up sharply.
Tuck could see the transformation in Karen as she put even more distance between herself and, well, everyone else. Especially Fitz, although Karen’s gaze didn’t waver one bit as she nodded.
Zachary may not have caught on, but Tuck did, and he was getting the sense it meant there was a connection there of some kind, one Karen didn’t fully want to acknowledge. So it wasn’t a complete surprise that Fitz said, “You should come out to the foundation offices when you have a chance. See what we’re doing.”
Nor was it unexpected that Karen hesitated before answering, although she did say, “How does later this afternoon sound?”
Fitz’s face brightened. “Perfect. I’m actually heading over there in about ten minutes, so anytime between now and 5:30 should be fine.”
Tuck didn’t say anything until they’d left the bar, but as soon as they were outside, he turned to her. “You know Fitz?”
That in itself wasn’t unusual. Pretty much anyone within a hundred-mile radius and who had been in the area for more than a week knew about the foundation. It had been started almost twenty years back by a group of guys—Nate Hawkins and Deke included—who made national news after their high school basketball team came out of nowhere to win State after a tornado had wiped out half the town. It had grown in magnitude as Nate’s major league baseball career took him into the stratosphere. And now it supported Inspiration in everything from instruments and sports equipment at the high school to, say, a local family going through a difficult time.
Karen glanced at him before her eyes slid away. “Not really.”
She wasn’t very good at straight-out deception. Good thing she seemed to feel strongly about being up-front with her patients. And, yes, the small town part of things meant that news traveled fast and Tuck was sure connections had been made between the doctor who had been at Justin’s basketball game, Zach’s brain surgeon cousin, and what Taylor Bradshaw and her family were going through. But for Fitz and Deke to have reacted that way...
“You made the $10,000 donation, didn’t you?”
That hadn’t been the best way to handle it.
Karen frowned. “It was supposed to be anonymous.”
Hell, no. Tuck wasn’t about to put Fitz on the firing line. “It was anonymous. Gabe told me about it. He thought one of Nate’s friends might have done it.”
Frankly, Tuck had, too. A lot of Nate’s friends were in and out of Inspiration often enough to have formed some connections, and most of those guys were loaded. Deke’s brother-in-law, another former Major League player, was as well off as Nate was. Not to mention all the guys from that original basketball team had money to spare.
But most people around here knew the foundation would take care of anything anyone needed. They would have stepped up if necessary, but it rarely was.
“Karen...” Tuck stopped and turned to face her. So maybe she didn’t feel entirely comfortable here. Maybe she needed a Benadryl to get over the county line. But she wasn’t uncaring. No, that wasn’t even the right word. He’d seen her with Taylor and Gabe. She definitely cared. But she seemed to go out of her way to keep it impersonal.
In a way that made perfect sense—the lines got blurry enough for Tuck and, even as a police officer, he rarely dealt with life and death the way she did. “Do you do that for all of your patients?”
She ducked her head down and stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Sometimes there’s a little extra money lying around.”
A lump formed in Tuck’s throat even as his heart surged. He didn’t have a high opinion of doctors. He, hands down, hated hospitals more than pretty much anything else on earth. But if she’d been his mom’s doctor, Tuck had no doubt he would have fallen in love on the spot.
He took a step back.
She didn’t want the same things he did. She started at one end of the line and he was way down at the other. But Tuck had learned a long time ago that what you saw on the surface barely even skimmed what was resting just underneath. And although he definitely liked that surface view, he was liking a whole lot more what was lingering just underneath.
His voice was gruff as he asked, “Should I drive?”
But it was strange. As they got closer to the high school, she shook her head and said, “Can we see the foundation offices first? I’d rather not see Justin quite yet,” and then she barely spoke again the whole way
there, looking instead out the window at the farmland they passed through. She perked up a little when they got to the grounds of the Iowa Dream Academy, which was where the foundation’s administrative offices were based.
Eyes wide, she turned to him. “What is this?”
Having been onboard with the plans for the Academy before the first buildings were there, Tuck had forgotten what it must look like to someone who had never been here. It was like a college campus, but with baseball and basketball at its center. There were four separate fields, six courts, and two field houses with more of the same inside. Not to mention the dorms and administrative offices that had been built so far. So he explained how it was Nate’s post-retirement project, and that it would be opening officially in June with summer camps for both games.
“Wow,” she murmured, leaning forward to take in the whole scope of it. “You really do like your sportsball here.”
He had to laugh. “Yeah. We really do.”
It wasn’t a stretch to notice she’d pulled away again, though, letting Fitz give her a tour that included displays about various projects the foundation was involved with, ending up in a big open room with a virtual assembly line going on as various members of the high school Key Club went about putting together care packages for soldiers overseas.
By the time they got back in the car, she’d retreated into her shell again. “You know,” she said, “maybe it’s better if I don’t see Justin after all.”
Tuck wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. So, yes, she cared about her patients—that had been well established. She went so far as to contribute money out of her own pocket to help a family that was clearly in need of it. But she kept that line there, backing away every time he got close.
Could he have pushed it without being a total jerk? Maybe. But he could read the writing on the wall, so, rather than try to talk her into dinner again, he just nodded and took the turn that went back to the center of town. They talked about the crisp fall weather the entire way.
It was pathetic. Awkward. Time of death of this potential relationship: 2:52 p.m.
When he brought her back to Bruiser and came around to open her door, however—which she let him do this time without any protestation whatsoever—she looked up at him. “Maybe you could come up to Ames sometime for a visit. One that involves, you know, food.”
He had to work hard at keeping his mouth from dropping open. He definitely hadn’t expected that. “Food, huh?” Although he made himself keep his distance, he couldn’t help but smile. “Like, as in dinner?”
“As in.” She shrugged as she looked down at the slush on the ground. “Provided you like takeout. I don’t cook much.”
He grinned. “Takeout is one of my favorite food groups.”
He was totally in.
Chapter Ten
Two full weeks later, Karen had just finished rounds and was waiting for the elevator to go up to her office when she got a text from Ryan: You’re needed at the nurses’ station. Stat.
Which was weird, because someone would have paged her. She checked her beeper, and nothing was wrong. Whatever. Her journals could wait a few more minutes.
Maybe it was just to remind her to eat again, since, yes, she’d forgotten even though she’d assured everyone when she was leaving the floor that she’d have a protein bar on her way to the elevator. She was even pulling it out of her pocket when she came to a sudden stop.
What was Tuck doing here?
What was Tuck doing leaning on the counter, laughing and flirting with the nurses?
Karen couldn’t decide whether to turn around immediately and punish Ryan later, or if she should go stake a claim even though she knew for a fact that that particular nurse was officially on the lookout for a husband and everyone was on alert for decent prospects.
A better woman would have given her Tuck’s name, or at the very least, not marched forward and interrupted their conversation. Especially because, a) Karen was not searching for a husband whereas Tuck was quite adamant on pursuing an actual relationship, and, b) even if Karen were interested in moving forward in that vein, the fact that Tuck had blown her off three days running would have pissed her off immensely. Did piss her off immensely, since if it were up to her, they would have just skipped the whole dinner sham and moved directly on to having sex again.
Except she’d kind of wanted to have dinner with him. Plus she had no illusions about her faults. So marching forward it was.
From the surprise on Tuck’s face, it was clear he’d had nothing to do with Ryan sending the text. Karen wasn’t sure what to think about that. It wouldn’t have been the smartest move to come to the hospital where she worked, visited the floor where most of her patients were, all the while hoping desperately to avoid her—and Tuck didn’t strike her as even close to clueless. But he could just have been visiting Taylor and Gabe and then attempted to sneak out but gotten caught by Ryan.
Tuck straightened up as she approached, and threw an apologetic glance at Misty. Who was, incidentally, a very nice woman, and Karen would redouble her efforts in helping her find a man. But she didn’t get Tuck.
Now it was Karen’s turn to ask, “What brings you to Ames?”
She should not have felt like she was hit with a shockwave when he turned to fully face her, and said, “You do.” Plus he was in his uniform, damn it, which gave Karen all sorts of feels.
“Me?”
And off she went, sliding down the slipperiest of slopes. Karen had spent over fifteen years studying the brain and yet she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what was happening to hers at the moment. She did not want to be drawn to him. She didn’t want to like him so much—to want to actually spend time with him. Tuck was the very opposite of “no-strings-attached.” She’d seen how connected he was in Inspiration. He was woven into the fabric of the town the way a spider wove a web around her prey.
Yet Karen had put herself out there only to get a voicemail from him while she was in surgery that he’d have to cancel on the first night they’d arranged. Then a text exchange in which they couldn’t come up with one potential mutually free two-hour time frame in a five-day period. And then, the worst as far as Karen was concerned, on the third night in a row of her actually getting as far as going to meet him at a restaurant only to have him cancel at the last minute, a call from the dispatcher saying Tuck had been called into an emergency Christmas Pageant meeting—had the Halloween costumes frightened all the elves away?—and he was deeply sorry, but could he take a rain check.
You can take a sex check, she had texted. This trying to date thing is too hard.
I don’t think I can take a sex check, he had texted back. I’m pretty sure that counts as solicitation and it would be grounds for arresting you.
“I brought you here?” She didn’t like that her cheeks felt a little hot. She wasn’t prone to blushing, but there was always a first time, and for some reason, she felt like Tuck might be it. Or, rather, like Ryan and the other nurses watching hers and Tuck’s exchange might be it.
Because it was not going to be a rain check. She’d given him his chance and he’d blown it. It was bad enough he’d gotten her to even consider actual dating. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned sideways against the counter. “Well, then, what can I do for you?”
“Oh, Karen, I don’t think I should answer that question.”
His low laugh sent a shiver through her and she made a note to herself to redouble her efforts in finding a replacement Tuck. Technically, she shouldn’t even have let it get this far in the first place. According to her diet she didn’t get to have sex again for two more months, which was the exact right amount of time for her to get down to work and identify her next prospect.
She glared at him.
It only made him grin. “I have something to run by you. Do you h
ave a few minutes?”
“Not reall—”
Brutus Ryan interfered again, interrupting her. “You didn’t eat yet did you?”
Seriously? And now Karen directed her glare toward him. “I’m in the middle of a conversation.” That he’d wanted her to have, incidentally.
Ignoring her irritation completely, he put his hand on her shoulder. “You always have an excuse.” Then he nudged her forward while at the same time saying to Tuck, “Could you do us all a favor and take her to the cafeteria while you’re chatting?”
“I brought my lunch.” She was really going to hurt him.
But rather than be deterred, Ryan just steered her the other way. “Fine.” He turned back to Tuck. “Could you take her to her office and make sure she actually eats her lunch?”
“Gladly.” And Tuck took her by the elbow and led her down the hallway.
She yanked her elbow away and put some distance between them. It was bad enough Ryan had gone to the dark side—he knew exactly how much it bothered her to fail at anything, much less something she didn’t want to be doing in the first place. Like dating. But what got to her even more was that the moment Tuck touched her all of her irritation began to slip away, only to be replaced by the memory of how it had felt to have his hands bruising her hips because of how hard he’d come. The delicious torture of him sliding into her.
She punched the button for the elevator. “You really don’t need to come to my office with me. I can eat my own lunch. I am an adult, you know.”
His eyes traveled down the length of her body and then back up. “I know.”
She jammed her hands in her pockets.
When they got to her office, she gestured to the chair while she went around her desk, took her lunch out of the bag, and started peeling an orange. She offered him a few pieces.
“I visited Taylor,” he said, somewhat distractedly as he looked around her office.
