Chapter Thirteen

Arlo practically inhaled his mouthful of booze, coughing and spluttering and bending over double as he gasped for breath. Tucker just gaped. Where the hell had that come from? He was just wrapping his head around her proposition, and now this.

He could tell from the tremble in her voice she was nervous, but she didn’t appear to be outwardly as she calmly waited out her brother’s coughing fit.

“What?” Arlo demanded when he eventually stopped choking and righted himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I said I think it’s time I moved out.” She held her brother’s gaze, her voice firm and strong this second time.

Arlo took a step toward his sister, obviously confused. “But I…don’t understand. I thought you liked being here? I thought you were…happy?”

“Arlo…” She said his name softly, her voice ringing with empathy. “I do like being here. I am happy. But…” She slid Tucker a glance. It was only brief, but he knew with sudden clarity what had happened between them tonight—her proposal—was the catalyst for this announcement. “I’ve been here for three years. It’s time you had your space back.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Don’t make this about me. I told you when I brought you to Credence that you had a home with me forever, and I meant it.”

Della crossed to her brother, which brought her closer to Tucker. Even in the dark, he could see the quiet appeal in her eyes as she smiled at Arlo. “And I’m so grateful to you, but things change.”

“I haven’t changed, nor has my commitment to you.”

She gave a little laugh. “No, you haven’t. But I have. I’ve loved living here with you, and I can’t thank you enough for the sense of security and family you’ve given me, but…sisters grow up and leave home.” She reached out and gave his arm a brief gentle squeeze. “It’s the next step for me.”

Tucker admired Della’s patience. He’d seen Drew argue with his sisters over the years, and they were way more in his face.

“Okay.” He nodded slowly. “I hear what you’re saying, but…maybe you need to think about it for a while first? Maybe talk with Selena about it?”

Tucker suppressed a smile. I hear what you’re saying? It sounded like Arlo wasn’t just urging Della to talk to her shrink but channeling her as well.

“I will talk with Selena about it, but we’ve already discussed me moving out one day. She’ll be in favor of it.”

Arlo grimaced slightly at that piece of news. “Well…what if…” He spoke tentatively, like an idea was forming in his head and he was giving it time to fully develop. “You moved in with some friends? Or…the boarding house? There’s still a few women from the summer influx living there.”

Della quirked an eyebrow. “You know Winona’s still there, right? Her house won’t be ready for another month or so.”

“Yeah.” He frowned. “Maybe don’t hang out with her too much.”

She laughed but sobered quickly, shooting a quick look at Tucker before returning her attention to her brother. “I want my own place.”

Tucker shifted uneasily. She’d made it perfectly clear that she wanted him, and she obviously wanted the space and the privacy to explore those desires. But he didn’t want to be the reason Della rushed into something without thinking it through properly first.

“You know,” she continued, “I’ve never lived by myself. I went straight from my father’s home to my husband’s home to my brother’s home. I want a place I can call my own. That I can put my own stamp on. That’s mine.”

Arlo reached out and took her hand. “I get that. Truly, I do. But wouldn’t you feel…safer with other people around?”

Tucker knew how important feeling safe had been to Della and how Arlo had moved heaven and earth to give that to her.

“I do feel safe, Arlo.” She slipped her hand on top of his and gave it a squeeze. “And not just here in Credence but wherever I go, and that’s down to you. Knowing you have my back, knowing that Tucker”—she paused briefly but didn’t look at him—“and Drew and Winona and Annie and Mr. Downey and every single person in this town has my back, knowing that it’s my right to feel safe—you did that. You restored my sense of security. That’s why I know I can do this.”

“God, Della…are you really sure?”

“I know it’ll be an adjustment, but…” She slid her hand out of Arlo’s and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not asking for your permission.”

“I know.” He nodded. “I guess I kinda got used to you leaning on me. I think we all did. I think maybe we’ll always worry about you a little.”

Della stiffened. It wasn’t obvious, but Tucker had been reading Della’s body language for a long time, and he understood her affront at being viewed as an object of collective pity.

“Tucker’s not worried. He thinks it’s a good idea.”

Tucker blinked. Oh. No. She. Didn’t. Just drop him in it like that. Arlo’s laser-like focus sliced toward him, lethal as a lightsaber. “That a fact?” he said.

With his mouth. His eyes said, what the fuck, dude?

Both of them were looking at him with stares that demanded he pick a side. Arlo’s was calling Tucker on their lifelong friendship. Della’s was crystal clear. Do not let me down now.

There was no contest, as far as he was concerned. He might be ticked that she’d put him on the spot, but Tucker was always going to be in Della’s corner.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, dragging his eyes off her to address Arlo. “Della knows what she can and can’t handle.”

Actually, he was pretty sure she had no idea how to handle the proposition she’d put to him tonight—he sure as hell didn’t. But that was a worry for another day.

“See,” Della crowed. Relief and the kind of gratitude that did funny things to his pulse poured off her in waves. “Tuck has faith.”

Arlo grunted. “Tuck is a kiss-ass. But yeah…” He stopped glaring at Tucker, his gaze softening as he glanced at his sister. “Just don’t rush into anything, okay? And promise me you won’t be a stranger.”

Della’s face broke into a grin. “I promise.”

She leaped forward, hugging Arlo tight around the neck, meeting Tucker’s eyes over her brother’s shoulder, her grin getting bigger. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

Tucker shook his head at her, also grinning, despite the shit ton of holy fuck that had just gone down. Her happiness was infectious, plucking at his chest and pulling at his breath.

Christ, this thing between them was really going to happen. There was an inevitability about it that Tucker wasn’t going to even try to fight anymore. He was going to give Della what she wanted. He just had to remember that this liaison was only temporary. Della wasn’t looking for long-term, and he absolutely understood why. At the end of this, the most important thing was to keep their friendship intact.

And that was all that mattered.

…

Much to Arlo’s dismay, ten days later, Della was moving into her own place. Bob Downey—who apparently owned half the houses in Credence—had a little two-bedroom cottage with a small back garden, which was perfect for Della, and the rent was affordable. It was also next door to the faux-antebellum, wedding-cake monstrosity of a house belonging to Wade and CC, who were planning on moving into it permanently when their baby came.

The Saturday morning weather was warm as Arlo, Tucker, Drew, and Bob and Ray from the old folks’ home helped her move into the house. Not that she had much. The furniture—her bed, a spare bed for the second room, some couches, a dining table and chairs, a coffee table, a washing machine, a dryer, a fridge-freezer and some bookshelves—had all been bought secondhand from people in the local district or had been given to her.

Molly, Marley, Winona, Rosemary, and Ruth also lent a hand, unpacking boxes and bags as they were brought inside. It was mostly kitchen stuff and some meager linen supplies—again, mostly sourced secondhand. Then there were her books and the few knickknacks she’d accumulated over the last three years.

And they came bearing gifts. Potted plants and a pasta maker and a slow cooker. Champagne, too, for celebrating when the work was done. Rosemary had made her some curtains for her bedroom—the only one in the house without blinds. They were in a gorgeous paisley fabric that reminded Della of a peacock’s tail and would be a good sun blocker for the east-facing room. And Wade’s mother, Ronnie Carter, had baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies and a big tray of homemade lasagna so Della didn’t have to worry about cooking for the next couple of nights.

Arlo bought her a gift, too, in his typically practical style. Three flashlights, all large enough they could easily double as weapons, and a huge box of batteries. He’d actually wrapped them in colorful paper and a bow, which was sweet.

“For the BOBs?” Winona mouthed over his head, and Della had to bite her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

By five o’clock, with everything but her clothes unpacked, the champagne drunk, and the house duly christened, Della was utterly exhausted and sent everyone home, promising a proper housewarming party in a couple of weeks. Arlo stayed, which was fine by Della. Yes, she’d pushed for this, for her own place, and she was beyond excited that the moment was finally here, but…she was going to miss seeing her brother every day.

They ate lasagna together, and he set up her smart TV, and they watched the news for a bit and the start of a movie, but Della was yawning so much she ended up chasing him out.

“You’re going to be all right here by yourself?” he asked as he hesitated at the door.

“Yes.” She bugged her eyes at him in exasperation, but she was smiling also. She knew Arlo would eventually get over his need to hover. “I promise. I’m so tired, I’m just going to unpack my clothes, have a bath, and go to bed.”

With Tucker Daniels, if her luck held out.

She felt a little uneasy about her subterfuge as she waved her brother off, but not for long, because tonight was the night, and she refused to feel guilty about going after what she wanted. Not that Tucker had actually agreed to anything at this point. Between the house hunting and the packing, she’d seen very little of him since that stormy night to confirm his intentions.

But, after today, there was no doubt in her mind that Tucker would come to her tonight.

Every time he’d looked at her or brushed past her this morning, she’d known. His glances had been furtive but lingering, his touches light but deliberate. And her body was humming like an electrical substation.

It hummed all the way through unpacking her clothes and having a bath and even trying on half a dozen different outfits, wondering what the hell she should wear. Eventually she settled on a fluttery floral skirt with blue flowers that matched her eyes and came to just above her knee and a plain green T-shirt that matched the leaf pattern of the skirt. At the end of March, it was still cool enough at night to be in jeans, but she was running pretty damn hot at the moment and totally prepared to sacrifice warmth for access.

Yup. Access.

There were no buttons or zippers—not even a bra—to slow them down. Hell, if she’d been brave enough, she’d have gone commando.

Then she fiddled with her hair—up or down? She didn’t know. Makeup or not? She didn’t know. So she tried a few different looks before scrapping them all and deciding to go minimalist. Hair down and some lip gloss. Would he approve?

Ack! She didn’t know that, either. She just had to hope.

And then, with a knock at the door, it didn’t matter anymore. He’d come—that was all that mattered. Taking a deep breath to steady the wild beat of her heart, Della flipped on the porch light and turned the handle.

The sight that greeted her made her ovaries throb. Tucker looming large in jeans and his Jack’s T-shirt, a smile parting his scruffy whiskers, his dimples bling-blinging.

“Hey,” he said, leaning one big shoulder into the doorframe. He looked at her like he had earlier, lingering and hungry, and for a second Della thought she might just disgrace herself with a spontaneous orgasm.

She didn’t, but things certainly twinged a little on the wild side down there.

“Hey,” she returned, overwhelmed by the stirrings of her body and his height and his breadth and the sheer bulk of him. The aroma of beer wafted toward her, and also jasmine—from the bushes out front—and it was heady. He was heady.

Flicking a glance over his shoulder, she searched the street. “You didn’t drive?”

“I…thought it might be more circumspect to walk from Jack’s.”

Ah. Yes. Della nodded slowly. He was probably right. It was probably best not to have his pickup parked outside her place, and the bar was only a ten-minute walk from Della’s house.

“You don’t have a gift, I see?”

He laughed, and it was rich and deep and stroked against her highly sensitized skin like crushed velvet. “Sorry, I’ve been a little busy today.” But that laugh, that big ol’ smile told her he had innate gifts and he knew how to use them. “I’ll bring something tomorrow night.”

Della beamed. He was already talking about tomorrow night.

“Well?” he prompted. “Are you going to invite me in? Show me what you’ve done with the place since this morning.”

Realizing she’d been standing motionless in the doorway in full view of the neighborhood, like an idiot, she grabbed his hand, murmured “Entre vous,” then tugged.

His smile strummed at the muscles slung between her hip bones as he followed her inside, and her breath hitched as the door clicked shut. But if she thought that would be his cue to start ravaging her, she was sorely mistaken.

“So,” he said, his voice low as his body fitted in behind hers, close but not touching, heat enveloping hers, cranking up that hum a little more. “Give me the tour.”

She gave a husky laugh. “You saw everything this morning.” And she was way more interested in showing him her everything.

His mouth lowered, his lips buzzing her ear and the side of her neck before dropping a light kiss on her nape. Della had no clue how she managed to stay upright with everything inside her melting like a roasted marshmallow. “I haven’t seen the finished product.”

Trembling ridiculously, Della made a valiant effort to pull herself together. Tucker was a grown man, not a horny teenager—of course he wasn’t going to jump on her as soon as he got inside. No matter how much she wanted him to.

“Okay, well…” She cleared the huskiness from her voice. “This…” She gestured around the room they were standing in. “Is the living room.”

The house was hardly big, so the tour didn’t take long, although Tucker dragged it out as long as he could, lingering over her bookshelves, opening all her kitchen cupboards, connecting her washing machine hose for her, and practically reciting all the Latin names for the plants in the back garden.

Up until this point in her life, Della would never have thought a house tour could make her all hot and bothered, but then, she’d never been on one with Tucker Daniels. He was super attentive, sticking close, his hand always at her elbow or the small of her back, his eyes constantly wandering over her face and mouth and neck. He asked questions and listened intently to the answers, and he smelled amazing—beer and citrus.

She was seriously considering ditching the whole nursing idea and becoming a realtor.

By the time they got to her bedroom, she was so turned on she was about ready to burst Incredible Hulk–style out of her clothes. “And this,” Della said, taking a step inside, “is my room.”

The main event. Finally, finally, finally.

Tucker, just behind her, leaned into the doorframe, as he’d done earlier. “Rosemary’s curtains look great.”

“Yeah.” Della admired them for a moment or two. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

A finger trailed down her nape. “You’re amazing.” Goose bumps stippled the flesh of her arms.

Della glanced over her shoulder at Tucker, who was smiling at her gently. Her heart swelled, her ribs suddenly tight bands around her chest. She smiled, too, turning to face him, sliding her hand into his and tugging as she walked backward into the room.

“You want to check out the comfort level of the mattress?”

Their arms stretched as Tucker stayed put. “Not tonight.”

“Tucker…” Della let go of his hand. “You’re killing me now.”

A slight smile curved his lips. “If we’re going to do this—”

“Oh, we’re doing it.” There was no if about it.

“Okay then.” His smiled broadened. “Let’s go over the rules.”

“Rules?”

He nodded. “Four rules. Number one—we take this slowly.”

“Yes. Absolutely. Selena has recommended the same thing.” Della understood the necessity of it, that it might not all be plain sailing and that slow and steady was the best approach.

“Good.” He nodded. “In that vein, number two—we’re just going to start with kissing. Nothing else, just kissing.”

Kissing sounded good. She’d really like to start now.

“Number three—we only progress when you’re absolutely sure you’re ready. And by that, I mean you’re thinking with your head, not your hormones. And yes, I’m going to keep checking in with that.”

“That’s fine, and I know we need to take this slow, but that doesn’t mean you need to treat me with kid gloves, either, Tucker.”

“Maybe…but fooling around is a journey, and it’s important to be okay with every stage of it. All I’m saying is that I’m happy to stop and linger at any stage for as long as you need.”

Della narrowed her eyes. “And I appreciate that. As long as you realize I’m not going to be happy with just some kisses and some groping on the couch forever and ever. I want to go all the way. I want to do everything.”

It was gratifying to see the pronounced bob of Tucker’s Adam’s apple. “Don’t worry. We’ll get there.”

They’d better. But if he dragged this out too long, she’d totally take whatever he’d taught her and use it against him, and to hell with rule number three. She might not be a polished seductress, but she was a fast learner.

“Rule number four—I need you to tell me at any time if you’re feeling uncomfortable or…triggered.”

“Of course.” Her voice softened. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at her for long moments. “Rule number five.”

“Hey. I thought there were only four?”

“I’ve just thought of another one.”

“Lucky me.”

“We keep this private, between us.”

“Absolutely. That goes without saying.” Did he seriously think she was going to blab this all around Credence, so Arlo would find out and act all weird? So everyone in town would act weird?

Hard pass on that.

“I don’t like the idea of sneaking around, but I think the transition back to just friends will be easier if every man and his dog isn’t in our business.”

“I agree.” She quirked an eyebrow as she took the three steps that brought her body within a whisker of his. “You done now?”

“Yep.” He nodded. “That’s it.”

“So…” She walked her fingers up his chest, loving that she could touch him freely. “What now?”

He grinned. “You’re going to feed me some lasagna, and then I’m going to kiss you good night at the door and go home.”

She screwed up her nose. “That sounds…frustrating.”

“Trust me,” he murmured, his voice low, “by the time we get around to going all the way, we’ll both be insane with frustration.”

Della felt that silken promise right between her legs. It couldn’t come quickly enough.

Half an hour later, they were standing at her door, and Della’s heart was beating so damn fast she thought it was going to explode out of her chest. Or just stop altogether. Watching Tucker eat, listening to his very satisfied noises as he devoured his food, had been so damn erotic she’d constantly lost her place in their conversation.

So. Much. Conversation.

Idle chatter about the customers at Jack’s tonight and the new Marvel movie out next month and the kinds of herbs she could plant in her garden. But the way he was looking at her now was far from idle.

“Thank you for the food,” he murmured, one hand on the doorknob.

Della shrugged. “Thank Ronnie Carter.”

“I’ll be sure to, next time I see her. But it was also heated up perfectly, and that crusty bread you served with it was—”

“Tucker Daniels.” Della cut him off with a frustrated snap. “I have been more than patient tonight, and I’ve agreed to stick by your rules, but I swear if you don’t kiss me in the next few seconds I’m going to—”

His head swooped down, cutting her off, and Della’s skin, which had been gradually charring under the slow burn of erotic tension, holding all that gooey marshmallow inside for the last hour, finally disintegrated, and it oozed out. She melted against him, moaning helplessly into his mouth as it covered hers, her eyes shutting, her arms creeping around his neck to press herself closer.

And he let her, maneuvering her until her back bumped against the door, his big frame holding her pinned to the spot. “Yes,” she muttered, her voice almost demonic as he slid his hands into her hair, cradling her head, letting his lips stray from her mouth, pressing them along her jaw, tracing a path to her ear, buzzing her lobe twice before returning to claim her mouth again.

He used his hands to tilt her head and Della whimpered as his tongue teased her lips, brushed along the seam, licking at the bow, swiping at the corners, dipping in and out in an erotic dance that had her seeing stars. Her breathing was out of control, her pulse loud and erratic. Her nostrils were full of the aromas of him—beer on his clothes and coffee on his breath and a faint trace of citrus. It was a dizzying mix, all rising in a bloom of heat inside her skull until she was burning up. An urgent tingling between her legs felt frighteningly primal.

This was where tonight had been leading—hell, this was where months of suppressed longing and awareness had been leading. She’d known it would be like this between them ever since that night in Denver.

Of course, he wasn’t the one out of control this time—she was. He was breathing hard, and his body was definitely hard against hers, but there was a control to the way he held her head, to the slant of his kisses, the stroke of his tongue. She was the desperate one, reveling in his mouth, greedily eating up the kisses he meted out, twisting her fingers in his hair, making frustrated little noises at the back of her throat, too damn out of her mind to care what she sounded like.

“Tucker,” she whispered urgently as his mouth left hers again, the tingle between her legs becoming an actual physical pain. “Please, I…I…”

She didn’t even know what she wanted, but he shushed her, whispering her name as his lips played around her ear, sucking in her lobe, dropping kisses down the side of her neck, tracing his tongue to the hollow of her throat, lapping at it until she was seeing stars and begging him to kiss her again.

He took his time, though, getting back to her mouth. His tongue thoroughly exploring her throat—licking and sucking, his teeth scraping and nipping, causing her to mewl and extend her neck as a zap of electricity traveled straight from the sting of his teeth to her clitoris. She gasped and bucked against him at the impact, and he nipped her again.

Damn it, she wanted his lips back on hers, but she didn’t want this potent stimulus to stop, either—something he obviously knew, as he nipped her again. He was in total control here, and she was drowning in sensation. All she could do was hold on and follow.

And it was just kissing.

She welcomed his mouth back with a ferocity she didn’t know she was capable of, and by the time he pulled away from her, twenty minutes had passed, and it felt like seconds. Della blinked, totally dazed, her head fuzzy as she tried to compute what had happened and why on earth he was stopping. She was breathing erratically—so was he—and her body was a giant pulsing throb. She thanked God his hands had slid to her hips, anchoring her against the door, because her legs felt like they were stuffed with cotton candy.

His gaze trekked over her face and neck, wandering over her hair, pausing at her cheeks, which were so hot they must be bright red, and lingering on her mouth. Whatever he saw there, he obviously liked, as his lips, wet and gleaming under the light, spread into a wide, slow grin. “Now that’s what I call a good-night kiss.”

He was unabashedly smug, obviously satisfied with whatever expression she was currently wearing. “God, Tuck…” Della tried to bring her breath under control, but she was still panting heavily. Who’d have thought just kissing could make a person feel like they’d been sprinting around a track.

If this was just the kissing portion of his tutelage, she was going to self-combust long before they got to the really interesting bits.

“You’re just going to leave me like this?” She reached for his shirt and fisted her hand in it—out of frustration, mostly, and also because she didn’t want him to leave. She wanted him to finish what he’d started. To pick back up where he left off.

He smiled, lifting a hand to stroke a finger down one side of her face. “Tomorrow night will be here before you know it.”

“Tucker.” She wasn’t in the mood to be mollified. She was in the mood to be done against her door, damn it.

“If you think it’s easy to leave you standing here wanting more, you’re wrong. If you think I don’t want more, then you’re crazy. But anticipation is the best part about fooling around, and denial never killed anyone.”

Right at this moment, Della sincerely doubted that. “Fine.” She squared her shoulders. “Lucky for me, I have a little something that won’t leave me in the lurch.”

Three, in fact.

“Good idea,” he said with a nod. Then he leaned in and gave her a peck—a peck—on her forehead before moving her sideways. “See you tomorrow night. Think of me when you’re getting off.” Then he pulled the door open and strode outside.

Della glared after him. As if she could think about anybody else…