“Here, Tuck.”
“Hold this guy for me, I need to help Nora.”
The next thing I know, hands are under my arms, and he pulls me into his chest, blocking the scene in front of me. “Come here.” His powerful arms are around me, and he’s guiding me behind the bar.
Big, rough hands cup my head, and his face is just inches from mine. I don’t know what to do with my hands, they won’t stop shaking, and they seem to just want to hang in the air in front of me.
Hazel eyes are locked on mine, and I focus on the spots of gold in front of the green. “That’s right, sugar, look at me.” His voice is low and soothing, and he takes a deep breath. “Can you breathe with me?”
He takes another breath, his chest rising, and I try to match his, but my lungs need air faster than he’s breathing, so I try again.
“Good. Again. Try again.” He keeps taking long, deep breaths and encourages me to do it with him.
It takes a minute, but I’m finally able to get a full breath, and the whooshing in my ears is quieting down. He lets go of my head and wraps his fingers around mine. “Your hands are like ice.” He presses my palms together between us and envelopes my hands with his. “Keep breathing with me.”
Just as my heart is beating at a normal rate again, and the shaking in my hands is at a minimum, I hear the police come in, and there is even more noise. I try to look around, but he says, “No, not yet, keep looking at me.”
I’ve never seen his face this soft or heard his voice sound so… sweet.
He’s the bravest and most handsome man I’ve ever known.
His smile splits his face. “Well, thank you, sugar. It’s nice of you to say so while you’re in the middle of a panic attack.”
My eyes go wide as my face flushes scarlet, and I breathe, “Did I say that out loud?” Oh God, I actually said that out loud!
His smile is still wide, and he winks at me. “It’ll be our secret.”
A slight pain is slowly tapping on my forehead, threatening a monster headache. I don’t even realize I’m crying until Tuck lets go of my hands and cups my cheeks, swiping his thumbs under my eyes. “Everything’s okay, sugar, I promise.”
Leaning forward and letting my hands rest on his sides, I set my forehead against his chest and fist the material of his shirt in my fingers. He wraps his arms around me, and instantly the world is right again.
He dips his chin next to my head and presses his lips to my temple. “I’ll need to talk to the police, but I’m taking you home after.”
Stony closed the pub after all the customers cleared out and everyone gave their reports to the police. Then he told me and Sammy to go home.
In the break room, Sammy nudges me with her shoulder as she grabs her purse. “That boy’s got it bad for you. I’ve known Tucker Harlow for over ten years, and I’ve never seen him act with any woman the way he acts with you.”
Reaching into my locker, I keep my eyes focused in front of me. As much as I want to fall into the feelings I have when he’s near me, I know it’s useless. I’m leaving as soon as my car is fixed. I have to. “He’s really nice.”
She clucks her tongue. “He’s more than nice, honey, he’s got hearts in his eyes every time he looks at you.” She turns as if she is about to leave and bumps me again. “I’ve been watching.”
Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I remind myself that I can’t develop feelings for Tucker. I think it’s too little too late because the pinch in my chest as I think about pushing him away tells me I already have feelings for him. Deep feelings. The tapping behind my forehead has turned into a dull thump, and I press my fingertips right in the middle to see if pressure will help.
Then I realize that the extra ache is not coming from my head, it’s coming from my chest.
Stepping out of the break room, I almost walk into Tuck. He’s leaning against the wall outside the door, and I wonder if he heard what Sammy said before she left. His hands are in his front pockets, and his head jerks up when he sees me.
“Ready?” He pushes off the wall and stands at his full height, making me look up.
“Yeah.” Looking in his eyes, I try to see what Sammy is talking about. He does look at me differently; his features are softer than they were when I first met him, as if his grumpinessis gone, and the big, thick wall that was around him seems not so intimidating.
How could I not be attracted to the quiet strength that effortlessly pulls me into its safety every time he’s around me? When he’s next to me, the exposure and paranoia I’ve carried with me the last six months seem to dissolve.
It might be ridiculous after just knowing him a few weeks, but he feels like the home base I’m supposed to run to, to keep away the threats chasing me. But I don’t want to be the damsel in distress he needs to take care of, I want to be the strong, beautiful woman he can’t resist.
Considering all the shit in my wake, it would be impossible for me to just be someone he can’t resist. Like it or not, I’ve got too much baggage. I don’t want to put that on him. It’s not fair to put it on him.
“Hey.” He rests his palm on my cheek, even his rough calluses are gentle with me, and pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. “You sure you’re okay?”
