“I’m not a hugger, and my hands are full.” I hold up one of the take-out bags and use the other as a convenient shield.
“Uh-huh.” He leans against the truck, right over the lock. “I heard you were back in town. Finally realized what you were missing?” He winks.
“Still as smarmy as ever, I see.” I can’t believe I wasted two years dating this jerk.
He throws his head back and laughs, but when his gaze returns to mine, it’s colder. “You were always trying to be better than you were, Darlin’, and now look where you are. Back where you said you never wanted to be. You and I both know you’ll be under me eventually, even though you pretend it’s not what you want.”
I’d say I can’t believe what I’m hearing, but this is Tucker, and it seems as though he’s gotten worse over the years, not better. “First of all, my being here has nothing to do with you at all. In fact, you’re basically the reason I don’t want to be here. Also, sexual harassment much, Tucker? Who says that kind of shit? And aren’t you with Sue?”
“It’s not harassment if it’s the truth. And Sue and I are on a break.”
“A break? Is that still your way of justifying being unfaithful? You really are a piece of work, you know that? Clearly the only thing about you that’s changed is where your hairline starts.”
He runs a self-conscious hand through his hair. It’s not as if he’s balding, but he used to be so paranoid about it back in high school. His older brother already had a receding hairline by the time he was in his sophomore year of college, so Tucker has always been sensitive about it. Especially since he has a widow’s peak. “There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, this has been . . . disturbing. I have to get back to the office.” I glance to the left as a familiar black sports car parallel parks directly across the street from us. Awesome, as if this morning hasn’t already been an epic suckfest. The last thing I need is another run-in with my neighbor, in a public place.
It’s bad enough that I’m out here talking to Tucker where everyone can see. At least three locals have passed on the other side of the street, and there will undoubtedly be gossip. It wouldn’t be a small town if there wasn’t.
“Come on, Darlin’, don’t be like that.” He reaches out to touch an errant curl that fell from my ponytail, but I lean back to avoid contact.
The car door closes on the other side of the street. I fight not to look, but my stupid head swivels, wanting the hit of eye candy as a reward for not kicking Tucker in the junk. Van’s wearing a threadbare T-shirt with the name of a band I used to listen to in high school written across his chest in faded letters. His jeans have holes in them. Not the expensive, strategic ones, but the kind that have been worn so many times, with so much love, that they’ve started to disintegrate. He almost looks like a local.
His gaze meets mine briefly before it shifts to Tucker, who’s leaning against the side of my truck, making it impossible for me to leave.
“Who’s that guy?” Tucker asks.
“Huh?” I reluctantly drag my attention back to Tucker.
“That guy.” He tips his chin toward Van. “How do you know him?”
I’m about to tell Tucker it’s none of his business, and that I don’t actually know him at all. Although I have seen his penis, and it’s far superior to Tucker’s, at least from what I remember in high school. But my neighbor heads directly for me, a look I can’t quite decipher on his face.
“Hey, Dillion, aren’t you a ray of sunshine on this gorgeous morning. Let me give you a hand with those, beautiful.”
He swoops in and grabs one of the bags right out of my hand. I’m so stunned, and frankly confused, that I don’t even have the opportunity to fight him on it. Now I don’t have a buffer between me and Tucker. At least until Van turns to Tucker and flashes him a megawatt smile. “Hey, man, so sorry to interrupt, but do you mind opening the door for Dillion? These bags are mighty heavy.”
Tucker’s brow furrows, as if he’s trying to figure out the dynamic. I know I am as well. “Uh, yeah, sure. You shoulda said something, Darlin’.”
I still don’t know what’s going on. But I manage to unlock the door, which Van swings open. He sets one bag on the center console and takes the other from me so he can do the same. “What are you doing?” I ask through clenched teeth.