“Did’ja set your alarm wrong this mornin’?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I responded, rummaging through the cabinet for a particular coffee mug I’d grown attached to. It had two hand-painted foals on it, laying in a field of flowers, and one of them kind of looked like what I’d imagined Poe would have as a baby. Maybe it’d help me feel better.
“Nuh-uh.”
“What?” I asked, pausing my pursuit to look back at her.
“This farm’s too small for two insomniacs, and besides, whether y’all realize it or not, I do like my quiet routines. I don’t need y’all all up in my business every mornin’.” She harrumphed, crossing her arms over her wide chest.
“Two?” I turned back to pull the mug from the cabinet and step over to the already brewed coffee pot. “Who else?—”
The words hadn’t even completely left my lips when they stopped dead in their tracks as the one man who’d lived inside my head for the last month stepped in from the mud room.
“Tallie, your chickens sure are cranky. One of them pecked the shit outta… me.” He was adjusting the flat bill hat on his head as he entered, but his words trailed off slightly as he caught sight of me across the room.
I felt it as our eyes locked onto each other. The pull. The draw. It wasn’t like it’d ever truly receded for me in the past three days, but seeing him this close again was like plucking at a tight string, the vibrations of that connection filtering out to us both.
I was distantly aware of Tallie eyeing us before she put her hands on her hips and addressed Tucker. “You probably did somethin’ stupid.”
That snapped his attention to her. “Excuse me?”
“With my girls. You probably did somethin’ stupid like bumble your way into their coop and make a real fool of yourself.”
“I—”
“You gotta be gentle with ’em. Treat ’em like the ladies they are.” Tallie continued. “Not just stomp into their home like some broody giant. Imagine you had some big, scary man bustin’ into your house. You’d be real feisty, too.”
Tucker flushed as though maybe that’d been exactly what he’d done and scowled. “They’re chickens.”
“They’reladies,” she corrected. “I know those aren’t your preference, but a Southern boy like you still ought to know how’ta treat one.”
I was just about to slink backward out the door and hide away todrink my coffee on the porch—or my truck—when Tallie turned her attention on me. “Right, Jackson?”
“Huh?”
“Your momma taught you how to treat a lady, right?”
“Uh,” I hedged, glancing between her and Tucker. “I suppose?”
Tallie brightened at that, clapping her hands together. “Well, ain’t that just fine!” She darted over to Tucker, swiping the basket of eggs he’d brought in from him. “Jackson can teach you all about treating a ladyaway from my kitchen. Go on now. Scoot.” She gave him a quick shove against his back with her free hand, and Tucker stumbled forward a little dumbfoundedly.
“Now, Tallie, what the hell?” he protested.
“Aht—” Tallie stuck a finger up at him. “Don’t you be cursing at me inmykitchen, Tucker Legare. I said scoot, so get.” She widened her eyes meaningfully, glancing between the two of us, and I cleared my throat. Whiskey eyes landed on me, and I struggled for a second to remember how to breathe, but I managed to tilt my head toward the kitchen door.
Tucker sighed, low and defeated, adjusted the brim of his hat to cover his eyes, then he brushed past me.
I watched him step out into the dining room, then turned back to Tallie. Truthfully, I was hoping she’d be forgiving and let me continue to sip at my morning brew in silence, but she flicked her fingers at me in the universal sign to get lost. Steeling myself, I lifted my mug to her in a bid farewell and followed Tucker. He wasn’t in the dining room when I passed through the door, and I had a split second where I’d wondered if he’d actually left. But as I stepped out onto the porch, unexpected relief washed through me to see Tucker’s form illuminated against the darkness from the light inside the foyer.
He was leaning against the railing of the porch, his head between his arms, looking so reminiscent of that first day when he’d told me the story of Raleigh’s death. My heart clenched inside my chest. I still wanted this man, and I wasn’t ready to face the reality that I’d fucked up any chance with him. But time had run out.
“I gotta confess, my momma raised a cattleman. She didn’t teach me any more about how to treat a lady than she did to sew my own clothes,” I said, breaking the silence suspended between us as I came to stand beside him. “Guess I’m shit outta luck, too, huh? With the chickens?”
When Tucker didn’t respond, I tried again. “Did they get’cha good? Any battle wounds?”
At that, he stood up a little more and looked at me. “What are you doing, Jackson?”
“Making conversation?” It came out more as a question than a statement.
