“His things are all here in the bag,” Tuck says. “I wasn’t sure where you wanted to set up the scratching post or his bowls and bed. Why don’t you two have a look around and figure it out?” He glances around the open space. “Ash is bringing Zoe and little Grant over later, and Tanner is coming with Stella. Word’s gotten out that I adopted a cat for you two, and I think the guys all want to stop by to see it with their own eyes before they believe it.”
As if sensing me watching, he looks up. Our eyes meet. He smiles. Something in my chest flips.
I start down the stairs. “Okay, boys. I’m going to start dinner. After you get Marbles settled, we’ll show you to your rooms. And then we go over the rules.”
But I’m pretty sure my voice is just bouncing off the bare walls because they’re already gone—laughing, calling to each other, the sound of paws skittering across hardwood as Marbles darts down the hall after them.
I step into the kitchen and find the groceries unpacked and neatly arranged across the counter. Vegetables lined up. Meat set near the sink. Pasta boxes stacked. His organization skills make me smile. I glance toward the hall.
My boys race past in a blur, arguing about where the scratching post should go. Tuck turns slightly, watching them. He doesn’t say anything. Just leans toward the sound, arms folding loosely across his chest.
And then I see it. The way he listens. The way he lets their laughter wash over him. The tiniest smile tilts his mouth, almost like he doesn’t realize it’s there. It’s unguarded. And it’s shocking. Because this is the same man who clearly doesn’t want kids. Such a contradiction.
Strong but careful. Detached but gentle. Guarded but right now…here. Present.
He looks at me, catching me watching. He blinks, shaking off whatever was going through his brain, and walks toward me.
“Okay, I can’t just stand here and watch you,” he says, rolling his shoulders. “Tell me what to do.”
I smile at that. Most men I’ve known would happily sit and let me handle it. “I need a big pan and a wooden spoon.”
“Easy.” He heads straight for the cupboards with far too much confidence for a man who clearly has no idea what he’s doing, judging by the way the doors open and close. Drawers slide. One slams shut.
I laugh. “You don’t even know where the pans are.”
He glances over his shoulder with a sheepish grin, completely unapologetic. “Fine. I eat at The Nook more than I should. But the chef there is pretty damn good.”
“I’m no chef,” I tease. “Maybe here.” I bend to pull open the lower drawer and—voilà—a large sauté pan. I tug it free. “This is perfect.”
“Perfect,” he murmurs.
There’s something in his voice that makes me pause. When I straighten, I catch him looking—not at the pan. His gaze drags slowly upward from where I was bent, heat unmistakable. My breath catches despite myself.
He clears his throat quickly. “Uh. Yeah. Busted. Sorry.”
He doesn’t look sorry. I laugh it off, though my skin feels warm. “You know we can’t.”
“I do.” He runs a hand through his hair and gestures to his eyes. “But around you, these have a mind of their own.”
God. When was the last time a man ever made me feel so wanted…so desired? I turn back to the stove before he can see the effect that has on me. Butter hits the pan with a soft hiss.
“Focus, Tuck.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
The boys’ laughter drifts in from the other room. I hum softly as I cook, the rhythm of it soothing. Tuck sets the table—silverware clinking, plates sliding across wood—and then disappears down the hall.
Seconds later I hear shrieks. The unmistakable sound of boys discovering something exciting. I shake my head, smiling. He’s shown them the games room, no doubt. Then I hear heavy footsteps overhead, Tuck giving them the grand tour, showing them where they’ll sleep.
I cook in the quiet that follows, my mind wandering to homework, schedules, logistics. To reality. Twenty minutes later, I call out, “Dinner.”
My three guys all come running.
Three…
With Tuck in the mix, the words echo in my head differently tonight and I can’t deny that I like the sound. Why does it feel so natural to loop Tuck into that? To picture him in the middle of us like he belongs there?
They come racing in, Tuck right behind them, grinning like a kid. Josh clutches Marbles protectively to his chest.
