And Then You Kiss (Crested Butte Cowboys Series Book 3) (12 page)

Brooke looked from Bree to her father, expecting him to defend her. He only raised his eyebrows. No way he was
getting in the middle of this. As far as he was concerned, if Bree had an opinion, he’d back her up, didn’t matter what it was.

“She isn’t a little girl anymore, you know,” Bree went on, glaring at her older sister. “And she doesn’t have to ask permission to stay out all night. Especially from you.”

“So you’re okay with her acting like a slut?”

Bree slowly walked over to her sister. While Mark had no idea what she intended to do, he never expected what she did.

Bree slapped her sister, hard, across the face. And then, burst into tears. Mark pulled her into his arms; Brooke stood motionless with her hand on her cheek.

“I think you should leave us alone,” he finally said to Brooke, who still hadn’t moved.

“But, I—”

“Brooke!” he shouted.
“Leave.”

Brooke stormed out of the kitchen, much in the same way her mother had a few minutes ago.

“I won’t apologize to her Daddy.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“She’s such a condescending bitch sometimes.”

“She can be that.”

“I’m not putting up with anybody’s shit. I guess you and Mom should know that.”

“You could say we picked up on that already Bree. And you’re entitled.”

“I don’t know if I’m necessarily entitled. But I’m still not going to apologize.”

Mark was relieved to see his middle daughter act like she was part of the world again, even if it was only temporary.

“Can I get you anything?”

“You know what? I’d love a Bloody Mary.”

“You got it.”

Rather than leave his daughter alone, he texted Paige and told her he was setting up a Bloody Mary bar in the kitchen. It sounded like the perfect thing to get this morning back on track. A little vodka never hurt in situations like this.

By the time Paige came back downstairs, Bree was almost finished with her first one, and Mark was in the midst of laying out a breakfast buffet.

“How are you this morning?” she asked Bree.

“Better now that she took out some of her anger on her older sister,” Mark answered.

“What happened?”

“I slapped her.”

Paige looked at Mark.

“She deserved it. She said something unkind about Blythe.”

Paige got up to go find Brooke, but Bree put her hand on her mother’s arm. “Stay Mom, please,” she said softly.

Paige sat back down.

“When is she leaving anyway?”

“She and Tom have to get back by the end of the week.”

It wasn’t soon enough for Bree.

***

“I should ask you to take me home.”

“Why?” Tucker had no intention of taking her home, whether she asked or not. He needed her with him, and whether she realized it or not, she needed him.

“I don’t know, for Bree mainly. I feel as though I deserted her.”

“She has the rest of your family with her. She’ll be okay. You were there for the hardest parts.”

“But my older sister can be…kind of a bitch. Maybe I should at least call and see how’s she’s doing.”

“If it makes you feel better, call her.”

Blythe opened the sliding glass door and went out on the patio. She intended to call home, but she called Renie instead.

“I’m with Tucker.”

“I heard.”

“What do you mean?”

“He texted me. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Oh yeah, he did.”

“I guess Bree and Brooke got into a fist fight over it.”

“What?”

“Sorry, I was joking. It wasn’t quite that bad. But your mom told my mom that Bree slapped her.”

“She slapped Brooke?”

“Yeah.”

That made them both start laughing. If there was anyone who deserved to be slapped every now and then, it was Brooke.

“Wait, which part were you joking about? Did Bree slap Brooke over something to do with me?”

“She did. I guess Brooke was making a fuss about you being out all night, and both Bree and your mom told her to mind her own business.”

Blythe had never gotten along with her oldest sister. Brooke married the first guy she ever had sex with, and she was pretty sure they waited until after they were married. There wasn’t anything wrong with living your life that way, until you started to preach to everyone else about it. That was the part Blythe didn’t like. Bree didn’t either. And while she and Bree never talked about their sex lives, Blythe doubted that Zack was the only guy Bree had ever been with.

Blythe thought Brooke walked around with a stick up her ass, but she didn’t try to tell her to live her life any differently. She couldn’t believe that only a couple of days ago she told her mom she wished Brooke was there.

“How’s Bree?”

“She’s okay. She’s spending time with your mom and dad. You’re okay Blythe. Take some time. She’ll be fine.”

Blythe went back inside, without calling home. There weren’t any messages, no texts. If they needed her, there would be. Renie was right. She should take some time for herself.

“Everything okay?”

“I’m not sure. But…nobody needs me. So…”

“Wrong. I need you. Come over here baby.”

Tucker was stretched out on the bed. The same bed they’d barely gotten out of since they got to the room last night.

“Wanna go for a walk or something?” she asked him.

“Nope.”

“You wanna stay in bed all day?”

“Yep.”

Who was she to argue with him? Blythe took off the robe she found on the back of the bathroom door, and stretched out on the bed next to him.

“We should talk Blythe.”

She didn’t want to talk. She’d been talking, and listening, for the last week. What was wrong with feeling? The last few hours with Tucker were all about feeling. She buried her head under a pillow.

“I take it you don’t want to talk.”

She threw the pillow on the floor. “Why? Why do we have to talk?” She couldn’t help but pout. Whenever someone said they needed to talk to her, it usually involved scolding her for something, or telling her something she didn’t want to hear. Otherwise, they talked; they didn’t announce the need for it.

Tucker smiled. Even if you didn’t know, you’d be able to guess that she was the baby of the family. And her daddy’s little girl. She was a lot like her dad, so it made sense.

“It’s time for me to head back to Aspen.”

Blythe didn’t put her head back under the pillow, but she didn’t say anything either. She got up, went into the bathroom, and closed the door. When she came back out, she was dressed.

“Can you take me home now?”

Unexpected.
He had no idea where this particular reaction came from.

“No.”

“You’re refusing?” She went to pick her phone up from the nightstand, but he grabbed it first.

“I told you I wanted to talk. Let’s talk first, and then I’ll take you home.”

“Tucker, I want to go home. Please don’t do this.”

“What’s this all about?”

She sat down on the end of the bed, with her back to him.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting upset about something as simple as me saying we should talk.”

“Why did you leave on Thanksgiving?”

Shit.
This was a subject he didn’t want to talk about.

“It’s a long story.”

Blythe kept her back to him, still sitting on the end of the bed. “Since you are refusing to take me home, it seems I have all the time in the world.”

“Now isn’t the time for us to talk about that.”

“You say you want to talk, yet you aren’t willing to talk about much.”

“I don’t want to get into what happened on Thanksgiving tonight. That’s it.”

“Oh yeah? And what about your scar Tucker?” Blythe ran her finger along the thin line that ran from his left cheek almost all the way to his hairline.

“Same story Blythe. And not one I want to get into right now.”

“Fine,” she turned around and glared at him. “Then take me home.”

He stood, so she did too, assuming he was going to do what she asked.

“I’m not playing games with you Blythe.”

“Good, because I’m not playing games with you either. You can either take me home, or I’ll go upstairs to the bar and find someone who will.”

“All I said was it was time for me to go home. I didn’t say I didn’t want to see you again. Tell me why you’re acting like this.”

Why was she acting this way? Good question. One she didn’t have a rational answer for. The minute he’d said he was leaving, all she wanted to do was go home. She wanted normal. Her own bed, her mom and dad, her sisters—well one sister she could do without, but she wanted to be with Bree. And if she could have anything she wanted, she’d invite Renie over, and Lyric. She wanted to be wrapped up in her family and her friends, and not think about how she was going to feel once he was gone. Why had she let herself sleep with him? She thought it would comfort her. After he left, she’d feel worse than she had before.

She sat back down and Tucker sat next to her. “Blythe, what’s goin’ on?”

He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her back, so they both were stretched out on the bed next to each other. Tucker turned on his side, so he could face her. One hand crept under her shirt, and he caressed the skin on her stomach.

She was having a hard enough time making sense of her reaction as it was, with his hands on her, she’d never be able to think straight.

Tucker leaned over and put his lips on the skin of her neck. “Talk to me,” he whispered.

“I can’t.” There was no way she could tell him that his leaving would devastate her. They’d been a comfort to one another, that was it. It wasn’t as though there was anything between them.

His lips began to trail back down her neck. He reached up and pulled her shirt away so he could kiss over her shoulder. His other hand crept further upward under her shirt, until he reached her bra. He slid his fingers underneath and pushed it up, and cupped her breast, his fingers rolled over her nipple.

She closed her eyes, and it became harder to breathe. She turned her head, and looked into his eyes. They held such heat. She opened her lips, just slightly, and ran her tongue over her bottom lip. When she did, Tucker covered her mouth with his and worked his way inside. She turned so her body faced his and put her hands on his shoulders.

Here they went again. She knew he wouldn’t stop. If he didn’t, they’d be naked in a heartbeat. He rolled her so she was on her back. He loomed over her.

“Blythe, look at me.”

As soon as he said it, she closed her eyes tight.

He raised himself off of her and held his hand out. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”

That made her open her eyes and look at him.

“Why now?”

He didn’t answer her. If he had he would’ve told her that if they sunk into each other again, he’d be tempted to carry her out to his truck, drive straight to Aspen, and never want to bring her home. He told her when they got to the inn the night before, if they did this, everything would change. He meant it. He wondered if she had been paying attention.

“Come on. You wanted to go. Let’s go.”

***

“That’s it, you’re going to drop me off and leave?”

“What do you want Blythe? You wanted me to bring you home, you’re home.”

“You don’t want to come in?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Tucker—”

“Get out of the truck Blythe.”

He hated the look on her face. Hated it. But he hated the feelings warring inside him more. He told her he wanted to talk. He’d been ready then. Now he wasn’t. And the last thing he wanted to do was pretend the last half hour didn’t happen. He had no intention of going inside and playing the role of “boyfriend.”

“Tucker, please.”

“Blythe, if you don’t get out of the truck, you’re gonna end up going with me, and right now, I don’t know where I’m headed.”

“Back to Spain?”

He wanted to kiss that look right of her damn face. And he wouldn’t be gentle about it when he did it. She was playing with fire. He looked away from her, out the window.

“Don’t leave this way.”

Was she kidding? He’d given her every opportunity back at the inn. Every opportunity. It was too late in the game for this play. She needed to get the hell out of the truck.

“I’m going to give you sixty seconds to get out of this truck, and if you’re not, I’m leaving with you in it.”

“Tucker—”

“Get out of the truck. Now.”

She did. Thank God. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if she hadn’t. The door was barely closed before he threw the truck in reverse and peeled out of the driveway.

He saw her, standing there, in the rear view mirror. The look on her face would haunt him, but he couldn’t let himself turn around. There had been another time the girl had gone with him. He learned his lesson. It was better to drive away.

As soon as he got far enough from the house that he knew she wouldn’t be able to see him, he pulled the truck over. He wanted to pound his fist on something, maybe put it through the dashboard. He got out of the truck instead. He stopped himself the second before he slammed his fist into the side of the truck. That would be all he needed. Work was his only outlet. If he hurt his hand, he’d have nothing.

What was he doing? He wished he knew. He wanted to talk to her about this thing between them. He wanted to tell her how long it had been since he felt this way about anyone. That he never thought he would again. She had no idea how hard it was for him to come that close to opening up to her.

Why had she freaked out so much when he said it was time for him to go home? It was, there were things he needed to take care of. Had she listened, he would’ve told her that he’d be back, and when he was, he wanted to spend time with her. He’d even started to think about how they could be together all the time. He wasn’t sure if that meant she should come to Aspen, or if he would come to Monument.

When she asked him about Thanksgiving, he almost felt as though he could tell her. If they’d talked about everything else, he may have. Now he didn’t know if he ever would.

He wanted to drive home. That was his
modus operandi
after all. Pack. Leave. Repack. Leave again. Get as far away as he could. Only he’d never found a far away far enough.

***

“Hi,” said Bree.

Blythe jumped. She hadn’t seen her sister sitting on the front porch.

“Hi.”

“He left in an awful big hurry.”

“Yeah. I guess I made him mad.”

“You guess?”

Blythe couldn’t tell if Bree was making a joke by stating the obvious, or asking her a question. She sat down next to her. When she leaned over and put her head on her sister’s shoulder, Bree leaned back and put her arm around Blythe’s shoulders.

“I should be comforting you,” said Blythe.

“You did plenty of that. My turn to take care of my little sister.”

Blythe started to cry. It was the last thing she should be doing. She had a
fight
with Tucker, if you could call it that, but he was still alive. Bree’s husband wasn’t. She tried to wipe the tears away before Bree noticed.

“It’s okay to cry. There isn’t a scorecard. I don’t have any more crying points than you do.”

“I wish he hadn’t left.”

“Tell him that, right now. Call him, text him, however you can reach him. Tell him.”

Blythe wondered if something had gone on between Bree and Zack before he left. Maybe they had a fight; maybe there was something between them that had been left unsaid.

“Okay,” Blythe whispered. She pulled out her phone and texted him.

I’m sorry,
she wrote.
I wish you hadn’t left.
She thought for a minute and added,
please give me another chance.

***

His phone pinged. Whoever it was, whatever they wanted, he didn’t care. He had nothing to give to anyone else right now. As hard as he tried not to look, he couldn’t help himself.

Of course it was Blythe. She couldn’t let him leave. She wouldn’t let him disappear again. She had to reach out, didn’t she? Every time he closed his eyes he could see the look on her face when he drove away. And here he was; he hadn’t gotten further than two blocks away from her.

Where are you?

What could he say? Around the corner.

Are you at the inn? I’ll come over. Have to see you Tucker. Please don’t leave me again.

He stood and stared at the phone. He wasn’t sure he was breathing. It was one of those moments. He could be stubborn, and ignore her. But would that get him anywhere? Would it get him what he wanted? Did he even know what he wanted?

He realized he wasn’t standing still any longer. He was walking toward her house. If he cut through the woods, he’d be there in less than two minutes.

Meet me outside,
he texted back.

***

“What?” asked Bree.

“He’s coming back.”

Bree got up to go inside.

“Wait, you don’t have to go.”

“Do this Blythe. Talk to him. Don’t let him leave like this.”

Blythe walked to the end of the driveway and watched for his truck to come back down the road. She was so focused on watching for him, she didn’t hear him walk up behind her.

“Blythe,” he breathed into her hair.

She spun around and he caught her as she threw her arms around him. “Oh Tucker,” she cried. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry Blythe. I don’t know what…”

She didn’t let him finish. She reached up and brought his head down close enough that she could brush her lips across his. She opened her mouth to him, and he took it. They stood at the end of her driveway, bodies intertwined, mouths locked together, as though they were a couple of teenagers, with nowhere else to go.

“Where’s your truck?” she asked finally.

“I didn’t get very far. I was too pissed to drive, so I pulled over.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

He kissed her forehead. “Blythe, this isn’t easy for me. I want us to talk. There are things I want to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Let’s talk. Do you want to go back to the inn, or do you want to go somewhere else?”