I looked up at the window as we backed out of the driveway, and Cam gave a small three-finger wave and walked off. My jaw would’ve hit the floor if Tucker weren’t sitting right next to me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
* * *
The bar was the kind of place you wouldn’t expect to find tucked between familiar streets. I’d always assumed I’d been to every bar around, but this one felt like a secret I’d somehow missed. The moment you walked in, warm amber light wrapped around you, glowing from old-fashioned fixtures and neon beer signs that hummed softly against the walls. Framed photos lined the walls, telling old western stories without saying a word.
To the left, a wide dance floor pulsed with movement. Couples moved in easy rhythm, boots sliding and stomping in unison as they line danced, laughing when someone missed a step but quickly falling back into place. The sound of country music filled the room, blending with the shuffle of feet and the occasional whoop of excitement.
A few worn wooden tables sat between the dance floor and the mechanical bull pen, their surfaces scarred with initials and ring stains from years of spilled drinks.
The mechanical bull stood surrounded by a low fence and onlookers, waiting for the next brave soul to climb on. Straight ahead, stretching across the back wall, was the bar itself—long and solid, polished smooth by countless elbows. Bartenders moved confidently behind it, sliding beers down the counter,shaking drinks, calling out orders with practiced ease. Their smiles came easily, as if they knew everyone or were ready to.
People filled every corner—locals in denim and flannel, dusty cowboy boots and ball caps, couples leaning close to talk over the music, groups of friends crowded together, drinks raised in mid-conversation. I slowly turned in place, eyes wide with amusement, taking it all in. There was a hum to the room, a sense of belonging and freedom all at once. I loved this atmosphere—the noise, the warmth, the way it felt alive.
I looked up at Tucker, who was already watching me.
He bent down so closely that his lips grazed my ear, “Where to first, darlin’?”
A shiver traveled through my body. “I could really use a Long Island Iced Tea.”
Tuck stood to his full height and bowed his head slightly, “Your wish is my command.” He grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers, and pulled me to the bar. I sat on a stool, and he did the same. Tucker ordered my drink and a whiskey on the rocks for himself.
We sipped our drinks, and he pointed to the dance floor.
“Do you know how to line dance?” His eyebrow was raised as he took another sip of his whiskey.
“Uh, can't say that I do. Have you ridden the bull before?” I asked, pointing over my shoulder at the mechanical bull.
“A couple of times, yeah. Though I may be better at line dancing. I could teach you if you wanted?”
God, he was so sweet. I held up my forefinger and chugged my drink. It took longer than I intended since it was practically full. I set my glass down with vigor and gave him a reply.
“I’d love it if you taught me how to line dance!”
“Harper, I’m sorry. I am normally much more of a gentleman, but I have to be honest with you…”
Shit. How did I already fuck this up?
“I think that was the hottest thing I have ever seen a woman do. C’mon, Sugar. Let’s dance.”
14
CAM
Ididn’t expect watching Harper leave my house with another man to hurt so bad, but it did. I don’t know why I waited a fucking week to say something to her. Even now, the text I sent her wasn’t enough. I swear, when it came to Harper, I didn’t know how to act or think.
I walked back to my room, lay on my bed, and wondered why I let a good thing slip through my fingers. After everything, I still wanted to be with her, but I needed my head to catch up to my heart. I should’ve explained that to her. I want to be with her, but I don’t think I deserve her, and I don’t know if our siblings would approve. Not that it mattered really, we are all adults. At this point, these were just excuses.
Last year, when we were helping Harper move into her new house, I overheard her conversation with Wren about how attractive she found her contractor, Tucker. He spent a lot of time in that house redoing the interior to her liking. He was the one who suggested the reading nook in front of her living room window and the built-in bookshelf.
The four of us spent quite a bit of time together, and occasionally I would help Tucker tackle a project while Wren andHarper decorated or worked on something else. I didn’t know him all that well, but what I did know was that Tuck was thoughtful and kind. Anytime I was there, I was greeted with a handshake and a fulfilling conversation. I just didn’t know her calling him about her house would rekindle a fire in her that had always burned for him.
He was clearly into her, too, from day one, but I never cared until now. If it came down to him or me, I knew her choice would be him. I was the guy who made her wait a whole year after a kiss to tell her how I felt. I was the guy who swooped in when she was sad, told her I wanted to be there for her, and wasn’t. For being thirty-three, I swear I acted more like I was thirteen sometimes.
I mean, I could totally get why she’d go after him. He was exactly what Lena, Wren, and Harp called him, a hot cowboy contractor. Tucker was a few inches taller than I, which always made it feel like I was looking up to him when we spoke. His eyes reminded me of a fresh-cut lawn on a summer day. They were this shade of green that just made you feelsomethingwhen you looked into them. He had a similar build to mine, tall, lean, and muscular. Tuck was covered in tattoos but kept his left arm pretty bare. His long, dark hair was straight and always kept in a bun or hidden under his old cowboy hat he wore on days he worked outside. Tucker had a full, dark beard that was so tidy. I swear, man never had a hair out of place. And his lips were…
Wait… Why thefuckam I thinking about the dude’s lips? I shook the thought out of my head and concentrated on my thoughts of Harper.
