She moved back so their gazes met.
He quirked an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
“What I mean is, when I’m not at an event, it’s just me. I’m just me.” Just disappointingly me.
Something that looked a whole lot like desire sparked in his eyes. He was really close. She should just kiss him. It’d be fun. And that was what this was about. Fun. Also, getting her career back. Why not have some fun in the process?
“Then what do you taste like, exactly?” He leaned back as though nothing had passed between them, his attention totally focused on his chocolate.
Well, she didn’t taste like peach lip gloss, that was for sure.
A feeling she’d become accustomed to when she was around him settled in her stomach. The little hairs on her arms raised, telling her someone was watching them. A camera shutter was about to snap.
It didn’t matter, they weren’t doing anything they weren’t supposed to do. As a matter of fact, a baggage claim kiss caught on camera was probably something Leah would commend her for.
Still though, that feeling.
Of all the drippings of fame she hated most, this was it.
His phone buzzed. He held it to his ear.
“Where the hell is my truck?” Tucker said into the phone.
He’d lost his truck? That wasn’t good.
“You caved?” His expression held firm, the little line over his eyebrow ticking in time with his pulse. “I cannot believe you did this.” He shoved his finger against the little red icon on the screen and used an inventive string of profanity.
“You okay?” Kenzie asked, cautious.
Tucker glanced up, looking past her, and his face fell. “Shit.”
“What’s the matter?” She turned, expecting to see a slew of paparazzi or—given Tucker’s expression—a pack of rabid squirrels.
None of that. Instead, it was a woman in her mid-sixties shuffling toward them on a pair of crutches with her ankle in a huge, black soft-cast boot. A scruffy-looking guy in a flannel shirt—no coat—strode beside her, his arm against her elbow even though she stopped every few feet to shoo him aside. He wore a cowboy hat. A real one. And he wasn’t even on a movie set.
“Brace yourself,” Tucker said under his breath.
“For what?” Mackenzie turned her focus to him.
He caught her gaze, rubbed a hand over his face, and shook his head. “For my parents.”
Kenzie turned back to them.
These people had given birth to Tucker? Mackenzie studied them closer, a slow smile spreading all through her. Not that she was surprised that these two particular people had created him. It was more that he had parents at all. Tucker was larger than life. A living legend.
Kenzie stood.
“Mom doesn’t know about us,” Tucker said quickly and quietly. “About our arrangement. Dad figured it out, but he won’t say anything.”
“Oh. Okay.” It hadn’t felt very much like an arrangement just then.
“Mom talks to the press. Her name is Lori,” he continued. His words were coming at the speed of light but so quiet she could almost believe they weren’t being said at all. “Watch what you say. She means well, but she answers their questions without thinking. Dad’s safe. He doesn’t talk to anyone. The rest of the family keeps their lips sealed, too.”
“What’s your dad’s name?” Kenzie asked.
“Clint.” Tucker stretched his fingers then curled them back to his palm.
“Tucker.” Kenzie put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. They’re people. I’m a person. I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”
