I don’t know if thereisany getting my shit together. Like she said, that ship has sailed.
Straight to California. It’s gone. Someone smarter than me docked it and locked it down.
A slow smile works on my mother’s face. “I have faith in you.” She crouches down, giving Copper a little pat. “I’m sure you can figure it all out.”
I watch her walk back out my front door into the rain where her UTV is waiting with Gunnar in the passenger’s seat, looking a little bedraggled himself. I wave as she pulls away, the guilt in my gut gnawing harder.
The woman has way more faith in me than I do.
Because I’m not sure I can figure this out. I’ve tried for the better part of the decade and always end up circling back to the same place.
An empty house and a lonely life.
3
Tucker
“MORNING SLEEPY HEAD.”
I jerk awake at the unexpected feminine voice whispering in my ear. It takes me a second to remember I didn’t go to bed alone last night.
When I open my eyes, the pretty brunette perched on the edge of my bed gives me a sweet smile. “I made you breakfast.”
This is… unusual. Not only that my alarm didn’t wake me up, but also that this woman is still here. Normally they hop, skip, and jump their way out the door before I even crawl out from under the covers.
I’m not entirely sure how to deal with the situation, so I push on an easy grin as I wait for my sleepy brain to come back online. “That was awful nice of you.”
I’m starting to worry over the expression on her face. It looks a whole lot like excitement, which is… not great. I make my position clear to the women who find their way into my bed. They know it’s going to be a ‘fun time, but not a long time’ sort of situation.
I still try to do right by them. My own version of right anyway. I lay down clear expectations and solid parameters.
I doubt it would make my mother proud, but?—
“Fuck.” I fling the covers back, jumping out of bed as I scan the room for my phone. “Where’s my phone? What time is it?”
The brunette—any hope I had of remembering her name is gone thanks to panic—goes wide-eyed. “Is something wrong?”
“Yeah, something’s wrong.” I grab the duvet I didn’t pick out and fling it around in search of the thing that should have woken me up.
Instead it signed my death warrant.
“It’s Thanksgiving.” I pause, frantic gaze leveling on the woman in my room, wondering why in the hell I’m the only one worried about this. “Isn’t your family celebrating?”
“Not until later.” She lifts one shoulder in a shrug, her smile coming back. “I figured we could eat breakfast now and still be hungry for that.”
We? Oh no. No, no, no.
“I think we’ve had a misunderstanding.” My mind scrambles through last night’s events as I try to piece together what in the hell could have given this woman the idea I’d be open to joining her family’s holiday. “This was just a?—”
“Tucker Bradshaw.” My mother’s voice carries up from the main floor. “Don’t tell me you’re still in bed too.”
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
As the baby of the family I’ve always been able to get away with shit my brothers could never do, but I don’t think that position is going to save me now.
“Damn it.” I race out the door, making it halfway to the stairs before realizing my dick’s swinging in the wind. Reaching into the hall bathroom, I yank one of the towels from the rack and sling it around my waist, tucking it into place as I rush down the stairs to find the woman about to give me the world’s most disappointed glare.
