Rachel Gibson: Crazy On You

After she’d left the salon that night, Tucker followed her home in his truck and they’d spent the rest of the night in her bed-having sex and talking. At least she’d talked. It seemed like every time she asked him questions about himself, he changed the subject back to her or kissed her until she didn’t feel like talking anymore.

She pulled her Jeep into the garage and closed the door. She couldn’t exactly be angry about his lack of personal disclosure. There were certain things in her past that she wasn’t going to talk about either.

The cell in her purse rang before she even got in the back door. She figured it was someone at the salon and answered without looking at the number. “This is Lily.”

“This is your neighbor. Come over so I can kiss you good night.”

Lily smiled. “Mom?”

Tucker chuckled and she could see his smile in her head. A smile that curved his lips and lit up his brown eyes. “Come over or I’ll come over and get you.”

She couldn’t have that. Her mother might walk in. “Give me a few minutes.” She hung up and changed out of the yoga outfit she’d worn in anticipation of working out. She had a whole different workout in mind now and changed into a pink-and-blue polka dot nighty, pink thong, and pink cowboy boots. She tied her trench coat around her waist and checked her pink lipstick in the mirror.

There were three boards missing at the back of the fence that separated her yard from Tucker’s. The previous owner’s Newfoundland, Griffin, had always preferred her yard to his; and no matter how many times she’d fixed the boards, Griffin knocked them down whenever he heard Pippen playing outside. Griffin had been a sweetheart of a dog-huge, but a sweetheart who’d had a real fondness for Pip. After about the fifth time of Griffin knocking down the boards, Lily had given up and left them stacked neatly on the ground.

Lily grabbed a pot of coffee on her way out the door.

Tucker had said several times that he wanted her. He wanted everything about her, but he didn’t know everything about her. He didn’t know her past. He didn’t know that people thought she was crazy. At least, she figured if he did know, he would have mentioned it right before he took off running for the hills. She wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

She moved through her yard, slipped through the fence, and knocked on his back door. “Italian roast?” she asked and held up the pot as he answered the door.

His brows pulled over his eyes and his scar wrinkled. “How did you get back here?” He wore a beige cold-weather base layer that clung to his chest and arms like a second skin. And of course his work pants and boots.

“A few boards are missing in the fence.”

He held the door open and she stepped inside. “Convenient.”

The kitchen was pretty much as she recalled from the last time she’d been in the place, when the realtor had spruced up the place for an open house. Oak cabinets, white walls, new gray counter tops, and vinyl flooring with a stone pattern. A small black cat sat by the door to the garage, lapping up milk from one of two purple bowls with flowers painted around the edges. The bowls sat on a little white rug with the name PINKY written in pink at the bottom.

Lily set the carafe on the counter and reached for her belt. “My mom told me you have a cat.”

“Pinky got out and I had to track her down that day I met your mother,” Tucker said as he reached into a cupboard and pulled out two plain white mugs. “Pinky has no survival skills.”

Lily bit the side of her lip to keep from laughing. “How did you end up with a cat with no survival skills?”

“She belonged to an old girlfriend.”

“And she just gave her to you?” Lily shrugged out of her coat, hung it over a chair, and stooped down by the little cat.

“Not exactly. The girlfriend moved out and left her cat behind.”

The hem of the nighty slid down her thighs as she lightly stroked the cat from the back of her head to her tail. “She abandoned her animal?” Lily couldn’t imagine that. She liked cats but didn’t have a pet because she wasn’t home enough to take care of one. Now that Griffin was gone, Pippen was harassing her for a dog.

When Tucker didn’t answer her question, she looked up over her shoulder at him. He stood in the middle of the room-two mugs of coffee in his hands, like his feet were frozen in place. “What?”

“What are you wearing?”

She stood. “A comfy nighty and my cowboy boots.”

“Panties?” He held the mug toward her as his eyes slid over his body.

“No self-respecting Southern lady leaves the house without her hair in place, her makeup done, and her panties on.” She took the mug from his hand and blew into it. “That sort of fast behavior could lead to a bad reputation. I went to high school with Francine Holcomb, and she left the house without wearing her undies on more than one occasion. Her reputation never did recover. ’Course, everyone knew that Francie was as loose as grits, bless her heart.” She took a sip. She was nervous and had to stop before she sounded like her mother. “How was your day?”

He brought his gaze up to hers. “Better now.”

For the first time since she’d stepped in his kitchen, she noticed the pinch of exhaustion at the corners of his brown eyes. “You look tired. Did something happen at work?”

He shrugged a shoulder and leaned his hip into a counter. “I responded to a call about one this morning at Rodale Jewelry store on Seventh near the highway. When I got there, a guy was trying to kick in the back door. He saw me and took off.” He took a swallow of coffee. “I chased him for about half a mile before I caught him climbing inside a Dumpster behind Rick’s Bait & Tackle.”

Lily wrinkled her nose. “Did you have to climb into the Dumpster?”

“I grabbed his belt just as he was diving in and pulled him back out. It was real ripe too. Smelled like Rick had just thrown out some expired bait. If I’d had to jump in there and get covered with fish eggs and dead crickets, I’d have been pissed.”

She couldn’t imagine running in work boots and gear. She was in good shape, but probably would have passed out after a hundred feet. “Was he from around here?”

“Odessa.” Tucker looked at the scratches across the back of his hand. “He was scrappy for such a skinny guy.”

Lily moved toward him and took his hand in hers. “How’d this happen?”

“He didn’t want to be cuffed very badly, and I scrapped it on the concrete trying to dig his arm from underneath him.”

She raised his hand to her mouth and lightly kissed it. “Better?”

“Yes.” He looked back into her eyes and nodded. “He tried to kick me in the balls too.”

“I’m not going to kiss your hairy balls, Tucker.”

He chuckled like he thought he was real funny. “Didn’t hurt to mention it.”

She dropped his hand and thought for a moment. “Well, maybe if you got them waxed.”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Do men do that?”

“Some men.” He looked so horrified it was her turn to chuckle. “They wax their whole bodies. It’s called manscaping.”

He set his mug on the counter. “No one is going to put hot wax anywhere near my balls.” He ran his hands up her arms and pulled her close.

“Don’t be a baby.” She set her mug on the counter next to his. “I get waxed.”

“I noticed.” He grinned. “I like it. It makes going down on you real nice and neat. I can see what I’m doing.”

Her eyes widened and she felt color creep up her cheeks. “You looked at my… my crotch.”

“Of course. My face was down there. I don’t know why you’re embarrassed. You’ve got a real nice…” He paused as if searching for the right word then gave up. “I don’t like the word crotch . I’ve got a crotch. You’re all high and tight and pretty down there. Like a juicy peach.” His brows drew together. “Or is that one of those things I shouldn’t say?”