Forcing himself to turn his attention back to their surroundings and stop thinking of them both in the bathtub, making waves, he winced inwardly. “Well the view is nice. A valley. Lots of trees…”
“Uh-oh. Is the house that terrible?”
“Let’s not judge it until we get inside. Jonas is full of surprises.”
Tucker traveled around the back bumper of the car and helped Mary out, closing his eyes tightly when she threaded her fingers through his trustingly, allowing him to guide her.
You no longer deserve that trust, you big, dumb liar.
A knot formed in Tucker’s throat and he forced his eyes open. “It’s yellow. A cottage. There’s a brick path, kind of uneven, so mind your step. No other houses around, probably for miles. The garden is a little overgrown, but somebody meant well, once upon a time. Some daisies survived.”
“What do they look like?”
“They’re white and kind of…” He chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone I used this word, but they’re a little whimsical. The petals are about as long as your pinkie finger and there’re maybe thirty of them. Yellow and bumpy in the middle. That’s where the bees land to pollinate it. When I was a kid, I remember girls at school weaving daisies in through their shoelace holes or making crowns out of them at recess.”
“A crown of flowers,” she breathed, visibly delighted by the thought of it. “Those girls must have felt beautiful.”
The way she said it caused him to frown. Had Mary ever been as carefree as those girls he’d gone to school with? Had she ever been able to walk or run without fearing for her next step? No. No, he couldn’t imagine she had.
He’d taken a lot of things for granted without realizing it. Not that he’d ever picked a flower before, at least that he could remember, but he could if he wanted to. He’d know where to look and which ones he was plucking from the grass. Their color and size and if there were bees hovering around. Mary had never been able to do that.
But she would.
He would make sure of it.
Mary’s step slowed on the path and he reduced his pace alongside of her. “I’m sorry about your car windows.”
“Oh, those old things?” Tucker snorted. “I was going to replace them anyway.”
Her troubled expression eased. “No, you weren’t.”
“You wouldn’t be calling me a liar, would you?”
“Yes. I am.”
Tucker barked a laugh. “I can’t wait to see their faces in the repair shop when I tell them I made a girl scream so loud, she shattered the windows.”
After taking a moment to process that, Mary gasped. “You’re deliberately going to give them the wrong idea?”
“I can’t help it if their minds are in the gutter.” He brushed a hand down the back of her hair before he knew what he was doing. “They might even give me a discount out of sheer respect.”
Mary’s eyelids fluttered slightly at the contact from Tucker’s hand, her lips parting on a breath, and Tucker’s cock thickened in his pants. Please, please, for the love of everything holy, let there be blood in the refrigerator. Appeasing his thirst would barely dim his need for Mary, but at this point, he would take anything he could get.
Willing his fangs to stay in place, Tucker reached up and felt his way along the top of a porch light until he made contact with the key, using it to unlock the door.
When he pushed it open and saw the house, he laughed.
“Now this is the upmarket flash I’ve come to expect from the king,” he said, taking Mary’s hand again and guiding her inside. “The master of hiding in plain sight strikes again.”
“What do you mean?”
Tucker started to describe the utter luxury of the interior, but a better idea struck him. He tugged his phone out of his pocket, pulled up his music library and found what he was looking for. “All right, if the outside of this house was a song, it would be this one.” The sound of banjos being strummed filled the room and Mary’s smile bloomed little by little. “And if the inside of this joint had a soundtrack, it would be more like this.” He tapped on Pavarotti, replacing the dueling strings with the full, passionate voice of the Italian tenor. “Does that sum it up for you?”
“Yes,” she half-gasped, half-laughed. “That…that was perfect. Do more.”
“Okay, come on.”
He took her on a tour of the house, beginning with the living room, where he played In the Jungle to describe the forest-green walls, white leather couches, bear skin rug and zebra print pillows. The bathroom had a beach theme, so he cranked some Jimmy Buffet. Mary giggling into his shoulder might have been the best moments of his life. When they reached the bedroom, however, his mind drew a total blank. One bed. Only one bed and the décor? Even a dude with very little experience like Tucker knew it was romantic.