“You’re thinking of moving?” I asked, trying not to screech.
“Dunn,” Brooks said. “The pole! That’s Uncle Waylon’s pole.”
I flapped my hand at him in the universal sign for shut the fuck up. “To Nashville?”
Tucker’s eyes held a familiar warning. A “let’s talk later” warning. “Dunn…”
I gnashed my teeth together and began pulling off my clothes. “Fine. Fine.”
When I got down to my boxer briefs, I heard at least six men whistle at me in the split second before I took a swan dive off the end of the dock. When I came up from the frigid water, I sucked in a desperate breath. “Holy fuck,” I shouted.
Tucker’s voice was frantic and bossy at the same time, giving orders to the other guys about something or other. I didn’t pay much attention since I was trying like hell to grab the pole and get back to the dock before dying of hypothermia. If I had to have Carter fucking Rogers revive me, things weren’t going to end well.
I found the pole and turned back, kicking as hard as I could before reaching the dock. I handed the pole up to Mal and then reached for Diesel’s outstretched paw. He yanked me up like a rag doll and plunked my shivery ass on the wooden boards. The air felt even colder than the water, and I was an instant ball of chattering teeth.
“Fuck!” Tucker snapped. “Are you fucking crazy? Why the fuck did you get in that water when there’s a rowboat right fucking there!”
My eyes got wider with each subsequent f-word. That wasn’t like him.
“It wasn’t very far away. Woulda taken me longer to sort out the boat.”
Tucker threw several blankets around me right as a low rumble of thunder sounded off in the distance.
“It storms a lot here,” Carter observed. “Thought it was supposed to be sunny today.”
Brooks shoved a mug of hot coffee in my hands, and I took a grateful sip. “That’s the thing about springtime in the South. Unexpected storms pop up all the time. We should pack up before the rain starts.”
Tucker tried to rub my arms over the thick layers of blankets, but I pulled away from him. “You should go. I wouldn’t want your boyfriend getting his hair messed up.”
Apparently that was a bridge too far. I knew it as soon as the words were out of my mouth. The storm on Tucker’s face was ten times more dangerous than whatever was headed our way in the sky.
“Get your ass in the fucking cabin,” he said in a low voice. “Now.”
I opened my mouth to argue with him, but his eyes narrowed just enough to scare me.
“Fine,” I said, as if I didn’t give a crap. I did. I gave lots of craps.
Brooks looked over at Mal. “See? Told you it was worth the early morning alarm.”
Mal grinned maniacally. “I should never have doubted you.”
The two of them helped me stumble to the cabin while Tucker stayed to help Diesel, Parrish, Carter, and Paul pack up all of our things. By the time my brain stopped shorting out from the cold, Brooks had started a fire in the stone fireplace, forced another hot drink down my throat, replaced my sodden blankets with dry towels, and skedaddled.
The only person left was Tucker. And he was no more pleased with me now than he’d been back on the dock.
I picked at a hangnail as I heard the first plinks of rain on the tin roof.
“You’re mad,” I said. Might as well start with the obvious.
“Mm.”
I stood up from the hearth and took a tentative step toward him. His skin looked honey gold in the warm light from the fire. I wondered if it was appropriate for me to think he looked sexy right now even though he was mad as spit.
“I’m… sorry?” I said, taking another step. I wanted to touch him so badly. My hands itched to grab him and hold him tight. But I had no idea where we stood after everything that had happened between us.
“What for?”
Ugh. It was a test. I hated these tests. I never did great on tests.
“Jumping in the water?”
His arms crossed in front of his chest. He was wearing a brown, black, and cream plaid shirt with a puffy down vest over top of it. I loved it when he dressed like a fancy huntsman. “Try again,” he said.
I winced. “Being snarky and unpleasant to Carter?”
He nodded. “Being snarky and unpleasant to Carter. And what for? Hm? Why the hell would you be so rude to a friend of mine when he has done nothing to you?”
“Pretty sure you know why,” I muttered at the floor.
“Because you’re jealous.”
I looked up at him and held his eyes. “Because I’m jealous.”
“Because you want me all to yourself.”
Finally. He got it.
“Yes.”
He pointed to the floor at his feet. “Get over here.”