Tucker (The Family Simon 1)

“It’s beautiful out here,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” Tucker answered, though his eyes didn’t follow hers as she glanced up at the million dollar blanket of stars.

The breeze picked up again, lifting her hair into the air, and she giggled as she tried to tug it behind her ears. The white tank-top she wore was pressed tight against her body and those long legs—hell, they went on for miles.

Her laughter dried up when she looked his way, and she crossed her arms over her chest, though she wasn’t able to hide her erect nipples. From the cold? Or was she feeling what was brewing inside him?

Mouth dry, Tucker dragged his eyes away and downed his tumbler in one long swig. He was tight. Angry. Tired and confused.

He was also horny as fuck and right about now was wishing it was Sonya standing a few feet away wearing next to nothing. Because he sure as hell would have had Sonya bent over the chair and maybe then he’d get some relief from the tension that rode him so hard.

What the hell did that say about him? Five minutes ago, he’d been thinking of Marley. His wife. Five minutes ago, he’d been remembering things…things that he was afraid to forget.

Now, one glance at Abby and it was gone.

Anger spiked inside him, and suddenly he needed to hold onto it with a desperation he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“Did you need something?” he asked, his voice sharp.

She tightened her arms across her chest but didn’t look away. In fact, her gaze was direct.

“No,” she answered slowly, drawing that one word out. “I just wanted to say goodnight and to make sure that you were okay.”

He lifted his tumbler in a mock salute. “I’m better than okay.” He paused, noting the way she bit her bottom lip—a nervous gesture—and maybe it was the devil that had him tonight, or maybe he was just being a prick, but he forced a smile and reached for the bottle.

Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone after all. “Want a drink?”

She shook her head.

“Are you sure?” He leaned back and watched the shadows cross her face, moving erratically in the breeze.

“Yes,” she said eventually. “I’m sure.”

He wasn’t used to this awkward silence between them. Damn, he was going to ruin things. He took a sip from his glass, his eyes on hers and never wavering.

“I didn’t take you for a Rangers fan.”

“Excuse me?”

He nodded at her tank top—the one that stretched tight across her breasts. “Every single one of your brothers are diehard Flyer fans, which is odd considering you’re New Yorkers.” He shrugged. “I guess I thought you’d be the same.”

Her head fell, but she kept her arms crossed over her chest, partially obscuring the New York Rangers logo. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “No, I’m the lone Ranger fan. I…I thought I was sleeping by myself or else I would have brought more…” Again she cleared her throat. “Appropriate…stuff…to wear to bed.”

Her toes curled into the patio tiles and with the wind running through her hair, the shadows playing across her face—all that skin on display—she sure as hell didn’t look like the Abby he knew.

This Abby could grace a goddamn Ranger calendar, and it would sell like hotcakes.

“I just signed Dean Kendrick as a client.” The admission slipped out before he could stop himself, but when her eyes went big and that delectable mouth opened wide, it was worth the slip. Hell, he hadn’t shared the news with anyone yet but considering her choice of sleepwear, it was somehow appropriate to share it with her.

Kendrick was the new face of the Ranger franchise and as a three time all-star center, he’d been a dream to sign. The guy had buckets of talent, charisma, and that extra bit of something that was hard to describe as anything other than golden. Tucker had been working on him for the last few months, and now that he was on board as a client, his roster was looking damn fine. Made being an agent sweet as hell.

“Wow,” she said moving forward, a big smile on her face. “That’s awesome, Tucker. My god, Dean Kendrick?”

She paused a few inches away. “I’m really happy for you.”

His eyes dropped to her breasts—briefly—before he yanked his head up and took a good long swig of whiskey. “Thanks,” he said as he set down the empty glass. He’d been happy too—for about five minutes. But then, like everything else in his life, the joy he’d felt when he’d closed the deal had vanished like water down the drain. It had swirled around for a bit and then…nothing.

He didn’t need to see a shrink to know that he was in trouble—that if he didn’t turn things around, there was a chance that he’d just disappear. He’d disappear like Marley. One morning he’d kissed her goodbye and that night she was gone.