“Thank you,” she says, and looks down at her hands.
I can see that she’s wringing them nervously. When I carefully place my hand on hers, her eyes dart up at me. I instinctively move my hand away but I can see she’s shaking her head.
“It’s okay,” she says, and the smallest of smiles appears on her face again.
This time I take her hand in mine and hold it. I can’t get over how tiny it is. And how soft.
“I’m Tucker Wilde.”
When our eyes meet, I’m overwhelmed by the intensity of her gaze. How can someone so small wield so much power with her eyes?
“I’m Gracie Parker,” she replies in a voice that’s so small I have to strain to hear it.
Gracie. The name suits her perfectly. Grace is loveliness and beauty. But it’s also kindness and mercy. I can see all of those things as I peer into her grey eyes.
“Is there someplace I can take you?” I ask.
She shakes her head and looks down at the floor. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”
When I turn and look over at the bar, I notice that Jake and Harley are watching me intently. My brother looks pissed but I’m not concerned about him right now. I’m concerned about Gracie.
She furrows her brow and it looks like she might start to cry again.
“What’s wrong?”
She swallows then says, “I don’t have any money.”
“Would you like to stay with me?” I know the offer is rash. The girl doesn’t even know me and has no reason to trust me. But she’s been through an ordeal and I feel like I need to help her. “I live with my brothers but our house is big. There are plenty of guest bedrooms.”
She looks up at me through her lashes. “Really? What about your brothers? Will they be mad?”
My older brothers, Jake and Cooper, have had their share of women stay at our house. They’d better not be mad when I invite someone to stay with us. And it’s not like I’m planning on sleeping with her. I invited her to stay because she doesn’t have anywhere else to go.
“It’ll be fine,” I assure her.
As I stand, I pull her up with me. “I’ll introduce you to my brother, Jake.”
“This is Gracie,” I state as I lead her over to the bar.
I’d like for him to at least make an effort to shake her hand but he doesn’t seem to be in a welcoming mood. He rakes his hand through his shaggy brown hair instead.
“This is Jake and Harley.” I motion to the two of them. They’re still gawking at Gracie like she’s a circus sideshow attraction.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Jake asks.
“Yeah.” I know that’s probably a hint to take our conversation into the back room but I don’t move. My therapist says I’m passive aggressive and I know it’s something I still need to work on. I have no intention of starting now, though.
“Somewhere other than here?” Jake adds.
“Fine,” I state as I march towards Jake’s small office near the back.
Once we’re out of earshot, Jake grabs my arm to stop me. I flinch and Jake immediately pulls back. Since I’ve been back from Iraq, my nerves have been completely shot. I react to nearly everything. A touch, a loud noise, even a sudden movement is enough to send me over the edge.
“Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”
“I invited Gracie to stay at the farm.”
Jake’s brows shoot up into his hairline. “You what?”
I frown. “You heard me.”
“I heard the words. They just didn’t make sense coming out of your mouth.”
I take in a deep breath. I really don’t want to get into this with Jake right now but he’s not giving me much of a choice.
“Do you even know this girl?” Jake pushes.
I have to laugh at his hypocrisy. “You have several girls at the house every weekend. How many of them do you really know?”
“I don’t have several every weekend,” he fires back.
“Yeah, right. I have eyes and ears. It’s a revolving door of blondes with big breasts in and out of your bedroom.” With my brother, there’s never a shortage of women but he’s not one for much variety. Every girl he’s with is like a clone of the last and every one of them looks exactly like Harley.
“We’re not here to discuss me,” he hisses.
“Because you know I’m right.” I’m not going to let him off the hook that easily.
He points a finger at me. “You’re only right if you include Friday as part of the weekend.”
“There’s a reason they say people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” I don’t give him the opportunity to reply. I just turn and walk away.
“We’re not done,” I hear him yell.
“We are for now,” I yell back as I make my way over to Gracie.
Two
Gracie
It never occurred to me to take a winter coat with me when Dex said we were headed to New Jersey. I’m not sure why. I guess living in Florida for so long, I forgot about winter and how cold it actually got up north. Not that I have a winter coat that still fits. The last time I lived in New Jersey I was twelve.
I start to shake as icy wind rips through me.
“My truck’s right over there.” Tucker points to a Chevy pick-up. When he glances over at me, his jaw drops open. “You’re freezing.”
He has so much concern in his eyes it rattles my foundation just a bit. I can’t remember the last time someone truly cared about me or my well-being. It was probably one of my elementary school teachers.
Before I can protest, Tucker has his leather jacket off and placed over my shoulders. I can’t believe he’s given me his coat especially when he’s only wearing a T-shirt underneath.
“Now you’re cold,” I observe.
He frowns. “I can handle it.”
Tucker looks like a lot of the guys I know. Dex’s friends. He’s big, tough-looking, and tattooed. He looks like a guy you should be scared of. But he doesn’t act like the guys I’m used to. He’s kind, gentle and really seems to care about other people. What’s on the inside doesn’t seem to match what’s on the outside at all.
He unlocks the passenger door and helps me into the truck. Then he hurries over to the driver’s side and hops in. I can see he’s shivering and I immediately feel guilty for taking his jacket. “Let me give you your coat back.”
He shakes his head. “It’s yours.”
“Mine?” I’m confused. “I can’t take your coat.” The leather jacket looks almost brand new and very expensive.
“Do you own a winter coat?” He looks at me expectantly.
“No,” I admit. I don’t want to tell him that I really don’t own much of anything at all.
“It’s yours,” he states again.
The leather jacket is huge on me but it’s also well insulated and extremely warm. A big part of me doesn’t want to give it back to him even though I know I should.
Tucker lets the truck warm up for a while and I watch as the thin film of ice covering the windshield begins to melt.
“Give me your hands,” Tucker says. He’s looking at me expectantly again. He seems to be used to people doing what he says as soon as he says it. It doesn’t surprise me. I doubt very many people ever tell him no. He looks like someone who could snap a person’s neck like a twig and not think twice about it. But I have a feeling Tucker’s more the type of person who would rather die than hurt another person.
When I carefully place my hands in Tucker’s, I can’t help but notice the tremendous size difference between them.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asks, as he wraps my hands in his.
I shake my head.
“Not at all?”
“No. Should I be?”
“Most people are.”
“Maybe they shouldn’t be.”
He smiles then moves our hands up to his mouth and tries to blow some warmth into them. Next, he rubs them vigorously. When he’s done, my hands do feel war
mer.
“Thanks.”
Tucker just nods then puts the truck into gear.
***
My jaw drops when Tucker pulls up next to the most enormous house I’ve ever seen. I mean, I’ve seen houses like this one in movies but I’ve never been this close to one before.
The house looks old, like one you’d see in a Civil War movie, but it’s obviously been restored.
“You live here?” The words pop out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Tucker gives a nervous laugh. “With my brothers.”
“How many brothers do you have?” I image he must have ten or twelve based on the size of the place.
“I have three brothers but only two of them live here with me. The other one lives in New York with his fiancé.”
I’m not sure what to say. I’m not even sure I should be staying here. I don’t want to cause any trouble. But if Dex comes looking for me, there could be big trouble.
The problem is that I don’t have any options. I don’t have any money and I don’t have anywhere else to go.
“We’d better get you inside,” Tucker says. “It’s getting colder.”
“You’re the one without a coat. You must be freezing.”
“I can handle it,” he fires back.
“Is that your answer for everything?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is there anything you can’t handle?”
When Tucker looks into my eyes, it’s almost as if he’s searching for something. “Maybe you,” he admits. “We’ll have to see.”
Before I have a chance to respond, he’s already out of the truck and opening my door to help me out.
The inside of the house is even more amazing than the exterior. There’s artwork and antiques everywhere. I almost feel like I’m in a museum. Not that I’ve been in too many museums but I visited a few on class trips when I was in elementary school.
“Do you want to take off your coat?” Tucker asks.
I shake my head. I’m not ready to give up Tucker’s jacket. I like how warm it makes me feel and how protected. I also like that it has the faint scent of his spicy aftershave.
“I can turn the heat up if you’re still cold,” he suggests.
“I’m fine,” I state, as I look around the massive house.
“I can show you where the guest bedrooms are and you can pick one.”
“Okay,” I agree.
Tucker leads me up a wooden staircase lined with old photographs. I like that he’s quiet and calm. He doesn’t have to talk all the time to prove that he’s strong and in control. Tucker just is.
“You have your choice of rooms,” he offers.
I look down the long hallway and there are a number of doors. I’m not sure what to do, so I just open the first one. It’s a lovely room that’s accented in purple and lilac.
“This is okay,” I say, as I make my way over to the huge bed filled with overstuffed pillows.
Tucker shoves his hands in his pockets and gives me a quick smile. I like how freely he seems to smile around me. I didn’t see him smile that much when we were at the bar.
“You can make yourself at home,” he says. “Use any bathroom you’d like. Just make sure you lock the door. Don’t want one of my brothers to accidentally walk in on you.”
“Thanks,” I say, as I take a seat on the bed. I’m not much of a sleeper. I’ve had insomnia since I was twelve. But this bed looks so inviting I almost can’t wait to curl up in the pile of pillows and go to sleep.
“If you’re hungry I could make you something to eat. You didn’t eat much at the bar.”
I don’t want to tell him it’s because Dex never wants me to eat. He likes his girls skinny. He always told me if I got fat, he’d throw me out. Whenever he thought I’d eaten too much, he’d always say, “Remember, I don’t do fat chicks.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. I’m not even sure why. Maybe it’s become a habit. I guess I’m just so used to feeling hungry I don’t even think about it anymore.
Tucker is giving me that look again. Like he’s searching for something in my eyes, trying to figure me out. Good luck with that.
“Do you want to sit down?” I motion toward a spot next to me on the bed.
Tucker looks at the bed then looks at me. He seems hesitant. Almost like he’s afraid of me. But why would someone like him be afraid of someone like me?
“I promise I won’t bite,” I joke.
He laughs and takes a seat next to me.
We both look at each other. I don’t know why but when I look at Tucker, when I look deep into his eyes, I see so much pain. He tries to cover it with a tough exterior and maybe that works to hide it from most people. They don’t look beyond his scary image. But I can see it. In some ways, it’s almost like looking in a mirror because I have my share of pain, too.
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked me about my limp yet,” Tucker says. “Most people do. It’s usually the first thing out of their mouths.”
“What limp?” I’m baffled. I try to think back to the times we were walking or that I saw him walk. Was he limping and I didn’t notice?
“Come on.” He’s looking at me like he can’t believe what I just said. “You’re kidding right? Or are you just trying to be nice?”
“I really didn’t notice.”
He shakes his head. “How could you not notice?”
I would be insulted by the remark if I didn’t see that his eyes were getting moist. He starts to blink a little faster then turns away.
When he turns back to face me, and our eyes lock, I’m overwhelmed by the exchange of energy between us. I almost can’t breathe.
“Why haven’t you asked me about my scar?” I fire back.
He’s taken aback by my question. Now he’s the one with the puzzled look on his face. “What scar?”
I’m not sure how he didn’t notice the huge red scar running down the side of my face. Dex liked to remind me how ugly it was every day of my life. But maybe I’m doing a better job of hiding it with my long hair than I thought.
“Now you’re the one who’s trying to be nice,” I say.
“I really have no idea what you’re talking about. Where’s the scar?”
I pull my hair back away from my face to allow him a better view of the horrible thing. He blinks for a few moments then moves in closer as if he’s inspecting it. I quickly push my hair back in place in order to hide the scar again.
Tucker just looks at me. His eyes seem to be searching inside of me again. I almost feel as if he’s trying to dig deep into my soul with his gaze. It’s unnerving.
Then to my surprise, he reaches over and tucks my hair behind my ear, exposing my scar. I almost feel naked even though I’m fully clothed and still wearing his leather jacket.
“I’m damaged goods,” I mutter. My throat is so tight, I feel like I can barely get the words out.
“I’m the one who’s damaged goods,” Tucker insists. “You’re beautiful.”
Beautiful? No one has ever said I was beautiful before. “I’m not.”
“You are.” He moves his hand to my face and very gently runs his hand down the length of my scar. “Beautiful.”
My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest as Tucker’s eyes meet mine and the energy between us almost consumes me.
The ring of the phone startles both of us. We both look over to the nightstand where the phone continues its disruption.
“I’d better get that.” Tucker hops from the bed.
As he walks over to the nightstand, I watch carefully for any signs of the limp he seemed so concerned about. It’s slight at best.
“Do you have me on speaker phone?” the voice on the other end of the line says.
“Yeah,” Tucker replies.
“Is she there?” the guy says.
“Her name is Gracie.”
“Fine.” The guy does not sound happy. “Is Gracie there?”
“Yeah, why?” Now Tuck
er’s the one who doesn’t sound happy.
“There’s a guy here looking for her. And he’s really angry. You need to get down here.”
Tucker takes the phone off the stand and it’s no longer on the speaker. “Call the police,” he says. “I’m on my way.”
When Tucker hangs up and turns back toward me, his face has turned to stone.
I quickly jump from the bed. If Dex came back for me and found out I wasn’t there, there’s going to be trouble. I can’t let that happen. I’m not worth it.
Tucker is frowning at me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Back to the bar.”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“But Dex—if he’s angry—he’ll cause trouble.” He’ll hurt someone. Maybe even kill someone. “It’ll just be easier if I go with him.”
Tucker searches my face again. “Do you want to go with him or are you just afraid of what he’ll do if you don’t go?”
I gulp. Then I look at the floor. I don’t want Tucker to see my face because he’ll know if I lie.
Then the words won’t come out of my mouth. It’s so easy to lie to Dex but most of those lies are to protect myself so he won’t hit me or do something worse. But I know Tucker won’t hurt me. He’s trying to protect me. So I can’t lie.
“I’m afraid he’ll hurt someone if I don’t go with him,” I admit.
“Then you’re not going anywhere. You’re going to stay here, where it’s safe, and I’m going back to the bar to take care of Dex.”
“But,” I can feel my throat start to close. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. You don’t even know me. You don’t have to protect me.”
I swipe at the tears I can feel streaming down my face. I have to stop crying. Dex used to slap me whenever I started to cry. That always stopped me pretty quickly.
When Tucker comes toward me, I immediately flinch. I know it’s just a reflex because I know Tucker won’t hurt me the way Dex does. But my quick reflex startles him.
“It’s okay,” he whispers as he approaches me more slowly and carefully.
Instead of hitting me, he tenderly wipes the tears from my cheek with his thumb.
The Wilde One (Old Town Country Romance) Page 2
