Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 93096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Chapter Four
“Ready?” Tucker’s easy smile hit Luis square in the chest, made him blink, like that might dim the power it held over him.
“Sure.” No. Luis was anything but ready for spending the day away from the office alone with Tucker. They’d both attended the morning meeting, then Tucker, who had been strangely courteous since he’d shown up for the day, had been raring to get on the road.
“Good. I already checked out keys for one of the Jeeps.” Tucker led the way to the parking lot where a line of Forest Service vehicles waited. “Figured I’d drive since I know where we’re headed, but if you’d rather, I can set GPS for you.”
“You can drive,” Luis said grudgingly because it was only practical. Tucker had a lot more years driving these back roads into the federal lands than he did. Even if ordinarily he preferred to drive himself and hated being a passenger, he didn’t want to start the day by being difficult. This was bound to be awkward enough.
“Thanks. You want a coffee on our way out of town? There’s a new drive-through place that H—people seem to like. I noticed you didn’t have a chance to use that French press of yours yet this morning.”
Luis was both strangely appreciative that Tucker had observed his coffee habits already and irritated at his continued attempts to act like he was no different from other coworkers. Which, honestly, should be what he wanted, a chance to play it casual and pretend they had no history. But they did. And the near-namedrop of the ex-wife didn’t escape his notice either, a sign that things weren’t as free and simple as Tucker wanted.
“Coffee sounds good.” He buckled up while Tucker started the Jeep. “And you can say Heidi’s name around me. Promise I’m not going to pout or throw a tantrum.”
He was fully aware he hadn’t been at his best the previous day, hadn’t reacted well to Tucker’s pictures of his kids. He could do better, and if Tucker was going to make an effort, then the least he could do was try to act like an adult.
“Appreciated.” Tucker backed out of the space, the sort of effortless driving that ordinarily would put Luis at ease about being the passenger, not make his pulse hum with fresh awareness. God, the last thing he needed was to get turned on whenever Tucker revealed himself the least bit competent at daily tasks. The flex of his muscled forearm and concentration lines around his eyes should be of exactly zero consequence.
“Man, it sure is strange to think of Heidi Keating as a mom though,” he admitted, in part to get his brain off the subject of Tucker’s forearms. “Wait. Is it Heidi Ryland these days?”
“Heidi Arnold now. She remarried after we divorced.”
“That...” Damn it. He couldn’t get a read on what Tucker thought of that turn of events. “Sorry?”
“No condolences needed.” Tucker gave a tight nod as he turned onto the main road. “Her husband is a great guy originally from Detroit who works IT for the same solar energy firm she’s an exec for in Bend. They’ve got a little girl. Saw them last night for our twice weekly dinner with the boys.”
“Wow. You guys need your own blended family sitcom,” Luis teased, trying to keep his voice light, not biting. Heidi happy wasn’t a bad thing. It had been too many years to wish her ill or keep some sort of grudge going. Besides, she too had been a friend way back then, volunteering with him backstage on the school plays, walking him through choir choreography when he’d picked up music as an elective to get out of gym. Because their parents went to the same church, she’d always been more Tucker’s friend than his, but she’d been kind and funny. It wasn’t her fault that she’d won the Tucker sweepstakes.
“All we need is a nosy neighbor peeking over the hedge and relatives walking in unannounced. We’ve got know-it-all kids and clueless parents covered.”
Luis had to laugh at that. It made sense that Tucker would still be funny, still have that dry way of delivering a punchline, but the familiar warmth in his gut, that was the unexpected and unwelcome part, the reminder of how that subtle humor always undid him.
“Unexpected guests happen more with my family. Swear my mom is still happiest when someone turns up for dinner. She keeps the fridge stocked like it’s Easter week all year.”
“I can believe it. God knows she fed me often enough.”
“Guess I can always take credit for being your first...” He deliberately drew the pause out until Tucker’s cheeks turned pink. “Tamale.”
Tucker gave a sputtery cough that said his brain had gone right to kissing. And maybe all the other firsts along the way—Tucker’s first homemade Mexican meal when he’d come for a playdate, then first sleepover, first time camping out in Luis’s backyard, first time at the movies with no adults, first day of high school.