Another deep sigh. “I left so everyone else would leave, so you two could talk. Not so you could take off to God knows where for two hours. The girl loves you. You love her. Both of you are too hardheaded to see it, but that’s how it is.”
Did he love her? Could a guy fall in love with a girl in the short amount of time they’d been together?
Maybe?
Holy shit. He did.
Sonofabitch.
“She doesn’t have what you have in a family. She only has herself. Are you going to let it stay that way?” Dad asked.
No, he wasn’t. “I’ll go talk to her. Is she still with Mom?”
“No. She left. An hour ago. While you were out lollygagging around, a car came and picked her up.”
Tucker’s throat felt covered in grit, his heart a weight in his chest holding him down. “I’ve got to find her.”
“First you’ve got to get her a decent Christmas present.”
Yes, yes he did.
And he knew just what to do.
* * *
Darkness had already fallenwhen Tucker pulled up to the condo in Vail. Kenzie’s mother was having her annual Christmas party. Tucker hoped his invitation was still valid.
He’d had Jessica find out where Kenzie had gone.
He’d spent the day perfecting Kenzie’s song. Driven two hours. And he was here.
To win her back.
It was below freezing, but Tucker was sweating.
Now was the time.
He stepped from the truck, his cowboy boots seeping into the slush. The valet took his name. Checked over the list. Then he took Tucker’s keys.
Tucker climbed the steps to the building like a man scaling a mountain. Slow and steady. One step at a time.
The butler opened the door and the party was in full swing. Champagne flowed while tuxedo-wearing waiters swirled through the room and Christmas music played.
He spotted Kenzie by a window talking to her manager, a glass of what he knew was untouched seltzer water in her hand. His heart tried to stop beating at the sight of her. He liked her polished up like this, but he liked her better with messy hair he’d mussed himself. Right now, he’d take her however she’d give herself to him.
He tipped the hired piano player two hundred dollars to take a break. Then Tucker sat at the keyboard, the thin sheen of sweat no longer just a sheen.
His fingers found the keys, he closed his eyes, lifted his lips to the microphone, and he sang for Kenzie.
Her song. The one he’d written for her that day.
Her Christmas present.
The room went quiet, as he’d known it would. Tucker McKay singing at a Christmas party didn’t happen.
This wasn’t for them, though. This was for Kenzie.
He put everything he had into the music.
