She winks, leaning in just enough to make my heart skip. “I think you two make a cute couple.”
“We’re not a couple.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she teases, turning the masher in her hands with perfect confidence. “If you’re not a couple, what are you doing?”
“I…”
“Just playing house?”
“I…Mom, it’s not what you think. This…what you see…”
“When you get to be my age, you’re able to see things with far more clarity, darling,” she says, voice softening, wise and knowing all at once.
“He doesn’t…he isn’t interested…” I let my words fall off, now unsure of what he wants, based on the way he’s been acting. God, I am so confused.
“Are you interested?”
My heart lurches. If that isn’t the question of the century? I steal a glance at Tuck, lost in conversation with Grant, his profile lit by the kitchen lights.
I blink rapidly against the rush of emotions pressing at the back of my eyes. “Mom,” I whisper, quietly, almost vulnerable.
Her hand brushes mine. “These things…” she says gently, “…have a way of working themselves out, sweetheart.”
“Mom, did you…the kitten…was this all a set-up?” I ask, trying not to let my suspicion—and my rising heartbeat—show too much.
Mom presses a hand to her chest, eyes wide and innocent. “I would never…”
Maybe she would never. But that doesn’t mean Grant wouldn’t. And knowing them, she could just be playing along, letting him run the show while she watches with that smug little smile of hers.
I shake my head, trying to focus. “Now…why don’t we put that pie back into the oven to keep it warm,” she suggests, politely putting an end to the conversation.
I nod, sliding the pie carefully into the oven. Steam curls around me, the smell delicious, but my mind is elsewhere. Mom and Grant start carrying dishes to the dining room table, chattering away like nothing untoward is happening.
Then his voice cuts through, “What can I do to help?”
I turn, and just like that, the air shifts. He’s inches from me, heat radiating off him, that familiar, dangerous energy that makes my insides melt and tighten all at once. My stomach does a little flip-flop.
To answer Mom’s question…yes.
I do want him.
In my life. In my boys’ lives.
Tuck tilts his head, studying me. “Hey…you okay?”
“I am.” I smooth a strand of hair behind my ear, trying to act casual. But when his finger brushes lightly against my hip, pressing just enough to make my breath hitch, I realize casual is impossible right now. “I just…think Mom and Grant were matchmaking.”
A small, amused chuckle rumbles from him. “You know, back at the rink during family skate, I had a feeling they were up to something. When they asked me to drive the boys home, it just felt like a trap.”
I scoop the mashed potatoes into a serving dish, still trying to focus. “Wow…so they’ve really planned this out.”
Tuck pulls a serving spoon from the drawer, dropping it into the dish, and leans closer than necessary. His voice drops. “Apparently. So…what do you think, Maria? Should we plan some kind of payback?”
I tap my chin playfully, before adding the Brussels sprouts to another bowl, and he automatically joins in the preparation, sliding a spoon in, like we’re a team. My cheeks warm at the thought. Honestly, I never realized how good we are together in the kitchen.
Okay, that’s not entirely true. I know how good we are in the kitchen.
“That could be fun,” I admit, smiling. He laughs softly, eyes glinting, and I blurt out the first ridiculous thing that pops into my head. “We could tell them their efforts were wasted because you’re already married…maybe to someone back in Nova Scotia.” I know that’s not true. I might not know a whole lot about him or his past, but I do know he’s not like my ex. And honestly, maybe my past is still haunting me, considering my thoughts went straight to him having another family.
