Dear Rose 2: Winter's Dare (5 page)

He shook his head. “No angle. Just food. Spending some time together. Scout’s honor.” He had been a Boy Scout.

That he’d read her mind gave her even more pause. She hadn’t asked him about an angle, had merely thought it. This must be some stupid movie on television with an alien who stole bodies. He’d gotten Tucker.
Yeah, right, an alien is going to start taking over the Earth by taking Tucker first
. Or maybe everyone else had already been taken over? Except her?

Not likely.

Neither of them had high-level government clearance that would warrant such an infestation. Nor were either of them superheroes. Much the pity.

Tucker cleared his throat. He motioned to her to come toward him because he was holding out her chair.

Tucker was holding out her chair for her to sit down.

That alien theory was starting to look more like the truth every second despite all the contraindications. Just what had gotten into him? She moved and sat down. He helped push her closer. He leaned down, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Welcome home, Ally.” His hands on her and his rich voice made things tingle all over inside her. He took his seat. Right beside her.

Usually he sat across the table. Actually, they usually sat in the living room in front of the TV. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d used the dining room. Probably it had been when they’d had company. She and Tucker had never eaten in here before by themselves that she could remember.

This was all puzzling.

He took the box in hand and slid a slice of pepperoni pizza onto her plate. He’d given her a serving before he’d served himself. He usually dug in, and it was every man or woman for him or herself.

She looked down at the gooey cheese and grease. Then she looked back at Tucker who was helping himself to a slice of pizza with everything. “Who are you, and what have done with Tucker?” She arched a brow.

He turned his head toward her as he set down the pizza box. “What?” He looked confused.

“Obviously you can’t be Tucker. What did you do with him? Eat him?” She laughed, letting him know it was all a joke. Though she wasn’t sure it all was. She couldn’t put her finger on what was strange, but she’d figure it out eventually. Maybe she’d scared him with her unhappiness of late? Only that didn’t make sense either. He might have noticed, but that didn’t mean it was at the forefront of his mind.

He shook his head. “You know, in some cultures, men waited until their woman was sated before they would even take a helping, much less eat.”

She widened her eyes as she stared at him. Things in her low-down belly clenched. For many reasons. Not that least of which was that he mentioned “men” and “their women.” She swallowed at the image.
Tucker’s woman
. That was a scary thought because it would never happen. “You’ve never waited before.”

He shrugged but didn’t answer. Instead he took a sip of water. He stared into her eyes. “I haven’t done a lot of things before.”

What did
that
mean? And why did it make her thighs draw tightly together? She eyed the pizza on her plate. Maybe there was mind control in the sauce? Maybe that was how the aliens got to humans?

“Are you going to eat it or just look at it?” Tucker pulled his chair closer to her. She could feel the heat of his body next to her. He hadn’t dug into his slice either, something she didn’t point out. “Maybe you do want me to feed you?”

She chortled. Couldn’t imagine Tucker feeding her pizza. Until he picked up her plate and took it from her. “Hey!” She grabbed for it, but he held it out of reach. “Give that back.”

He took the slice in his ample hands and offered it to her, pointed side first. “Care to bite?”

Another clenching took hold of her stomach. This was crazy. “I can feed myself, Tucker.” She swallowed. He was in a dangerous, strange mood.

He set down the pizza on the plate, only to pull off the crust. “Sorry. Know you like eating it this way first.” He offered her one of the ends of the thin strip of crust. “Here you go. That’s better.”

No. No, it wasn’t. She stared at the long fingers holding the head to her newly decapitated pizza. It was the way she ate it. She always ate the backside of the crust first by ripping it off before she ate the slice from the front. “You don’t have to feed me.” She shivered a little. Though it wasn’t the least bit cold. Her insides felt considerably warm. She also felt a warm wetness building between her thighs.

Maybe she was coming down with something. Tucker-itis.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He continued to hold the edge of the crust just out of reach of her mouth.

He wasn’t going to leave her alone until she did this. Once Tucker got an idea, he stuck with it. One of his more endearing and irritating qualities.

She tilted her head and took a nibble of the crust. He made her work for the bite. “There. Now give me back my pizza. You do not have to feed me.” The last thing she wanted was for him to feed her. That would drive her nuts.

He laughed and pushed her plate back over to her. “And I thought you’d like that. Me feeding you dinner for a change. Or should it be grapes and cheese?” With that he started laughing as though he’d made a good joke.

She didn’t get the reference. She cocked her head to the side in a puzzled stare. “Huh?”

He waved. “Referencing a Greek meal with a guy in a toga, and it doesn’t even make… Never mind.” Tucker’s brain often worked overtime, and things came to him that made no sense to anyone else. He’d probably been thinking of two things that had nothing to do with each other. She didn’t always get him either. But she at least tried. Others had told him he must be retarded for thinking of such things, trying to insult and rile him. That had never worked. He wasn’t bothered by conventional name calling.

“It’s okay.” However, he tended to become irritated when others didn’t understand his sideways thinking, especially when she missed his meaning. She’d started calling it that after seeing a crab move to the side instead of back and forth. She reached down and picked up a big piece of crust. “I didn’t mind you feeding me dinner.”
Except that I’m clumsy and probably would have messed that up by spilling food somehow even with you feeding me
. “It was just odd.”

He took a bite of his pizza finally. “Sorry on the oddness. You wouldn’t have bothered me, though, if you’d dropped anything. I know Grace isn’t your middle…I guess it is, but it’s not you.” He smiled as he took another bite.

Another case where he almost seemed to read her mind. It should be comforting. And on some levels it was comforting that he knew her so well. Only they were just passing time together. They’d never have forever. So having that intimate knowledge of her would do him no amount of good. Nor would it do her any good. Because eventually, she and Tucker wouldn’t hang out together like that. She pushed away the cold feeling in her stomach and concentrated on eating. She wouldn’t face that now. Would face it when the time came.

Chewing became the only sound in the room as she realized how hungry she was and chowed down on her pizza. At least that way she didn’t have to think.

A friend of hers had always told her not to eat much when with a guy. That they didn’t like it. But Tucker had never seemed to mind.

Only you’re not with him. Are you?

She chased away those thoughts and took a sip of water. “How was your day?” If her voice came out strained and hoarse, he didn’t seem to note it.

“Good. And yours?”

“Good.” Glad they’d gotten that high-octane conversation out of the way. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. So silence filled the room again. Had it ever been so big between them? She couldn’t remember a time when they didn’t fill the void with conversation. Only those times had been less and less frequent, hadn’t they? As she’d done her thing and he’d done his.

Tucker shifted in his chair. His knee brushed up against hers. It happened again, and after the third time, the leg stayed against her.

Somehow that touch grounded her. It made her skin jingle and go all nerve wired. But it also made her feel more connected to him. “Did you talk to Devyn today?” It was the first thing she’d thought of to ask.

He froze with his pizza in midair. “Why do you ask?” He continued the pizza’s journey to his mouth.

“I just hadn’t seen him this week. Wondered if you had was all.” The three of them didn’t go days without talking. At times, they’d talked every couple of hours, especially after Devyn had moved in with Carl. Devyn had described it as separation anxiety as they’d been together so much.

“Oh. Yeah. I saw him today. He was doing okay.” Tucker grabbed another slice of pizza. “Damn, I’m hungry.” He looked at her empty plate and unloaded another slice for her consumption.

He was still serving her. That was interesting. That he’d noticed anything beyond his plate was a miracle. “Yeah, I talked to him before I came home.” She studied a painting on the wall. It was sunflowers, a Van Gogh print. Tucker had given it to her when she’d moved in. She’d always been a fan of Van Gogh. “Does he seem nervous to you?”

“Huh?”

“Devyn. Does he seem nervous to you? He seemed sort of—I don’t know—skittish when I talked to him.” He’d been more than skittish. He was always a moving target, but his speech had been fast and disorganized. He’d kept flitting from topic to topic especially when she’d talked about Tucker.

Tucker shrugged. “Maybe he had too much coffee. You know what that does to him.”

Not pretty things either. Devyn was high-strung anyway. Too much coffee sent him over the edge, which was odd because it also was what got him going in the mornings. He had to have the right amount. Once in college he’d had a triple-shot espresso. He hadn’t slept for days and had been a babbling idiot by the time he’d finally managed to sit down for more than thirty seconds. “Maybe. He’s been talking to
Pizazz
. I’ve heard him talking but still not sure what that’s all about.”

“Eavesdropping again?”

“No!” That came out more sharply than she’d intended it. “I don’t eavesdrop. I just overhear.” It was a plus of being somewhat quiet. If she stayed silent long enough, people forgot she was there and started saying things around her that they otherwise wouldn’t. She’d learned that early on with her parents and had applied it often with friends and coworkers.

“Uh-huh.” Tucker waggled his eyebrows. His leg still touched hers, and the solidness of it was something she wanted there.

It warmed her. She felt like there was a firebrand against her. It also made her hyperaware of him. Not that she wasn’t already. She liked the way his muscles moved under his shirt. The way his hands looked as he ate pizza. He had nice hands. Rough. They always energized her skin. “Hey, I wasn’t eavesdropping when I heard that guy say he was going to pummel you into next week. I was merely standing there.” She tilted her head at Tucker. “And wasn’t it handy that I was?” Tucker had called her a mime after that incident. She’d saved him from being beaten up over a woman. And that guy had been his own city, he was so large. He would have taken Tucker and knocked him into the stratosphere.

“That happened a long time ago.” They’d been in college. “And you knew what I was thinking.” He looked at her with a smile. A dazzling smile. The kind he normally splashed on big-breasted blondes when he was trying to get them into bed. Odd he would shine that on her. She was easy. All he had to do was put his leg against her and she wilted toward him.

Ally stared at the warmth of the sunflowers again and brushed her leg closer to Tucker. One of his hands fell to his lap, and he absentmindedly stroked his fingers along her leg. If only that leg was bare. She’d had to go with pants instead of a skirt. She remembered the last time she’d come home in a skirt. Tucker had found it fascinating. She skimmed her gaze to the table.
Oh that was the last time we used it. And not for eating
. He had wiped it down before he set it, hadn’t he?

“It was a long time ago.” She echoed what he’d just said. “And I often do.” She knew him better than she knew herself. Better than he knew her. Which was a problem. Though he had instances tonight where he seemed to know her better than she’d thought. She frowned as he carried on.

“We’ve had some good times.” He pushed his plate toward the center of the table. “Good times indeed.” His face grew thoughtful as he must be recollecting events they’d shared. They were numerous.

She took a few more nibbles of pizza. “Yep, we did.” They’d been such good friends. All three of them against the world. Things changed when Devyn had met Carl but not that much. Maybe that was one of her problems. Devyn had moved on to a relationship, and she was still doing the same things. The rut she had fallen in with Tucker was one she couldn’t seem to climb out of. If only… She squashed that thought from even coming. Tucker wasn’t in it for the long haul. He was in it for the tits and ass. That wouldn’t change for anyone. Not even her. He’d made that clear.

“You know what one of my favorite times was?” He continued stroking her leg. His fingers were warm. Nimble. Even through the cloth she knew their texture. She’d felt them so many times. He had comforted her with those hands after many a bad dream. Had held her when she’d cried after life events. Had turned her on many a night as they delighted her body because he knew everything that she liked and every nook and cranny of her soul.

“What?” That could be interesting. Or embarrassing. Or maybe both. There was a lot of ground to cover. She pushed away deep thoughts and concentrated on his hand on her leg. It might not be skin-to-skin contact, but she still enjoyed the touching.

“Remember the strip-poker night?”

Her face flushed. “Oh yeah.” A bunch of people had been over, friends of her, Devyn, and Tucker. It had whittled down to around ten people when someone suggested a round of strip poker. “I remember that. You lost…your shirt.” And his pants and his underwear…

“You won big that night.” He waggled his brows.

Another flush warmed her cheeks. She had. She’d had several sets of clothes despite never having played poker in her life. It had also been the first time that she and Tucker had kissed. It had been seeing all that expanse of golden skin, more than she’d seen before. They hadn’t yet slept together even once. She’d never seen him in all his glory, and that glory had overtaken any sense she’d had. She hadn’t even been able to blame it on alcohol because she didn’t drink. “I know. I was lucky.”