I know when Tucker says something he means it. He’s real. He’s honest. He doesn’t play games.
I wouldn’t be here with somebody who did.
He never would have told me he loved me if he didn’t feel it in the core of his being. He wouldn’t propose if he had even an inkling of doubt.
And when he touches me, he freaking owns me.
Tuck catches me watching him and stalks across the room, slides his hands into the back of my hair and pulls me forward for one more lingering toe curling kiss. “Don’t go anywhere, sugar.” He breathes the words, pressing his forehead against mine.
“Never.” I promise.
And then he’s gone again.
I’m overwhelmed at how his presence, his touch, like a magic wand eliminates all my doubts. I never could have said ‘no’ when he proposed. Once I allowed him into my heart, I was conquered.
And after touching my body, he’s ruined me for every other man. Oh, yeah. The damage is done. I stretch and stand up, luxuriating in the aches left over from our burst of passionate lovemaking.
I’m practical enough to know that life consists of more than one man. And I’m no introvert. I need friends. I need to have coffee with other girls, other women.
So, I’m gonna have to work this out with his mom and sister. The Cassidy woman? I’m not so sure about. But I have this feeling.
She doesn’t just resent me.
She hates me.
Yeah, I realize this sounds a little over the top, for somebody I’ve barely met for more than two minutes, but I’ve learned to trust my feelings on this sort of thing.
Hopefully I’m wrong.
I doubt it. But I can hope…
Not wanting to dwell on something completely out of my control for now, I locate my brush in Tucker’s amazing bathroom. Without more time, without my straightener and smoothing oil, the only way I’ll tame this mane is by putting it into a French braid. Not sure if it was the nap, or Tucker’s hands, but it’s quite the mess.
A benefit to having long hair. If it doesn’t do what I want I can tie into some sort of knot. My fingers quickly weave the braid down my back and I finish it off by pulling it over my shoulder. I’m pretty pleased with the effect.
Now my eyes.
Stupid of me to have given into tears. But… oh well. I dab at them with a cool wet cloth and then locate my make-up bag in the carry-on. Make-up bag always travels with me. I’ve lost my luggage too many times to make that mistake again.
A little moisturizer, some foundation, eye-liner and mascara.
Amazing what a little color can do for a girl’s mood. I’m just finishing up when Tucker knocks on the door.
“You decent?” He peaks his head around, seeing that I’m fully clothed, he opens the door further and oh, my gosh, it’s like a twin of Tucker walks in. Only this one lacks the intensity of my Tucker. Same dark hair. Same eyes. Different energy. Softer chin.
I blink my eyes and laugh. “Two of you!” And then I step forward holding out my hand. “You must be Colt. Tucker told me you guys all had similar looks but…” I stand back and laugh. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
Tucker’s ‘little’ brother glances at my fiancé and raises his brows. “Well, Okay, then. Now I see why you’re hankerin’ to get yourself hogtied.” He’s got one of my suitcases. Tucker has the other one. I wince a little when I realize they’re both sopping wet.
Before I can hide my expression, Tucker frowns. It’s only luggage. Why do I care?
I don’t.
Not really…
“Thank you. Both of you!” I force a cheerful note into my voice. “Sorry they’re so big.”
But Tucker’s shaking his head. “I’m surprised this is all you brought. I thought you checked twice as many when we flew out of St. Tom’s.”
