“It isn’t like that.”
“Billy is hands off, now Jace is too.”
“That’s it. Those two make up my entire list of male conquests.” Renie laughed, and when she did, Blythe was relieved. She had begun to doubt Renie still possessed a sense of humor.
“So, tell me,” Blythe said, changing the subject. “How is it being the wicked stepmother?”
“Are you really interested, or is it a show to get back at the ex-girlfriend?” Tucker asked his brother.
“Her name is Irene. And yes, I’m interested.”
“You’re sure?”
“Did you see her? She’s magnificent.”
Tucker agreed. She was magnificent. Her violet-hued eyes had sparkled when she met his gaze, stirring something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long while. He’d almost reached forward to run his fingers through her silky dark hair.
“Can’t you feel it?” Tucker asked, but his brother turned away without answering.
Sometimes he wondered if he could feel Jace more than his twin could feel him. Even if they were a thousand miles apart, Tucker felt his twin’s turmoil.
Tucker hadn’t wanted to spend Thanksgiving in Crested Butte, but Jace insisted. When their parents agreed and his father told him how much he was looking forward to reconnecting with his cousin, Tucker succumbed.
“We were close once,” his father had said. “But we drifted apart after your grandfather died. We used to come to Crested Butte for Thanksgiving every year, but when you boys were born, I knew it would be easier on your mom if we stayed home.”
His father’s words were the only reason Tucker had agreed to come along on a day he normally kept to himself.
Until last week, Tucker had been in Spain, where he spent as much time as he could. Since he’d gotten back to the States, he’d been adrift. At first he thought it was jet lag, but when he wasn’t feeling better after a week, he knew the only thing that would assuage his angst, was letting the artist in him get back to work.
Most recently he’d completed several sculptures done in bronze. He’d sold them all, even the one he’d intended to keep for himself. He considered block prints next, but painting was beckoning him.
It had been three years since he’d painted. Watercolor was his favorite medium in two-dimensional work. He could paint quickly—a sense of accomplishment came immediately. There were days he could do three or four full-sheet paintings before noon. He longed for that kind of release.
There was more to his bad mood than lack of a project, though. He was beginning to feel as though his life was aimless. When he was younger he’d believed he’d have love, a family, everything his parents had, but that dream had died, only to come alive again today, when something in Blythe’s dark-haired beauty spoke to him.
If he pursued her, would his interest in her last? Or, as it had with so many other women, wou
ld he tire of her quickly? There’d only been one woman in his life who’d been able to hold his attention. When he lost her, he lost hope that anyone ever would again.
“I’m attracted to her,” he finally said.
“I know,” Jace answered.
“So you felt it.”
“I was ignoring you.”
“What should we do?” Tucker asked.
“Let her choose.”
“This could get ugly, Jace.”
“Maybe she won’t choose either of us.”
Tucker shook his head and laughed. “Right.”
It wouldn’t be the first time he and his brother vied for a woman’s affections, both knowing it was more about the thrill of the chase than the catch. This time, though, Tucker doubted Jace had any idea that, to him, it wasn’t a game.