“No, you just implied it with the way you worded your sentence.”
Kenzie’s gaze shifted to Tucker.
Eyes closed, his head had dropped against the window beside his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.
Kenzie could relate. She generally felt that way around her own mother.
* * *
Perhaps Hollywood wasn’t sobad, after all. Tucker shifted, and his hand skimmed the side of Kenzie’s palm where it rested under her jacket. She pressed her hand closer to his. Gaze breaking away from the window, he caught the spark in her eyes and traced a fingertip in slow circles over her knuckles. A smile tickled the edge of her lips.
His parents were still yapping in the front seat, but right then he tuned them out. Focused on Kenzie.
Every nerve in his body was on alert. If she could do that to him with just a touch, he was done for if they ever managed to get naked together. She turned her hand palm-up and settled her fingers between his.
Contentment. That’s what this was. The same feeling he had when the notes flowed on a new song. God, it’d been forever since he’d felt content.
Mom pointed to a glowing Safeway sign. “Turn here, hon.”
“I’ll turn at the other entrance.” His dad jerked his chin ahead in illustration.
“No, that one spits you at the wrong side of the store. Do this one so you don’t have to go over those speed bumps.”
Parents distracted by parking lot decisions, Tucker leaned over so his lips met Kenzie’s ear and only she could hear. “Sleeping arrangements? My parents have a guest room for you at their place. I have a guest room for you at the ranch. Or there is plenty of room in my bed. Your choice.”
The skin of her cheek brushed his lips when she turned to whisper in his ear. “Not your parents’ place.”
His stomach dropped. In a good way.
Not his parents’ place. He could live with that.
They pulled to stop, and his mother reached for the door handle.
His father laid a hand on her arm. “Stay put, it’s icy.”
He was using his I’m-being-reasonable-so-please-cooperate tone.
Mom shook her head. “You’ll buy the wrong kind of ice cream.”
His face was weathered, wrinkled, from years of working outside. But when he looked at Tucker’s mother, the lines smoothed. Even if his words were gruff, his expression mellowed. “It’s the one with that rabbit on the side. I’ll remember.”
“No, we need spinach and avocados, too. I’m coming.” His mom turned to Kenzie. “I’ve been making celebrity diet shakes. Have you tried them?”
Heaving a breath, his father left the cab of the truck, circling around the hood to Tucker’s mother’s door.
“With ice cream?” Kenzie’s eyebrows puckered together.
“That wasn’t in the original recipe, but that one didn’t taste good at all. Add a little ice cream and it does just the trick.” Mom pushed open the door and scooted from the truck. His father handed over her crutches and pushed the door closed.
“Ice cream makes everything better.” Tucker squeezed Kenzie’s hand.
His parents disappeared through the sliding doors of the grocery store, past the inflatable Santa and the Salvation Army guy with the collection bucket ringing his bell.
Kenzie squeezed his fingers back. “I’ll have to try one of your mom’s shakes.”
“Kale, avocado, spinach, and ice cream. Yum,” Tucker said with fake enthusiasm.
Kenzie grabbed the notebook she kept with her, scribbling something on the pages.
