Crazy on You

CHAPTER SIX

Monday morning, Lily pulled her Jeep into the parking lot of Crockett Elementary School and reached into the backseat. “My last appointment is at four. It’s just a cut and style so I should be home around six.” She stopped the SUV next to the sidewalk and handed Pippen his Angry Birds backpack. “What do you want for dinner?”

He wore his red coat zipped all the way to his chin and said into the nylon collar, “Pizza.”

Of course. She leaned toward him. “Give me some sugar, sugar.”

He unbuckled himself. “Tonight,” he said. He’d stopped giving her sugar at school last year, but a mom could always try. “Is Tucker coming to play basketball today?”

She shrugged. “He’s working, so I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him.” Not since he’d left her house yesterday around noon. Only half an hour before Ronnie had dropped Pippen off home. Four hours early, which was so typical of Ronnie. She hadn’t been all that surprised. She was just glad she’d been alone and had taken a shower.

Pippen opened the door and slid out of the car. “Maybe he will.”

“Maybe.” She gave him a little wave. “Love you, Pip.”

“Love you, Momma.” He shut the door and she watched him run to a group of his friends hanging out near the playground equipment. She took her foot off the brake and drove out of the parking lot. Her first appointment today wasn’t until noon. Her assistant manager was certainly capable of running the salon when Lily wasn’t there.

She stopped at a red light and thought about the last time she’d been in the salon, having sex with Tucker in her office. Sex that had been so good she might have moaned Tucker’s name a little too loud. She hoped she hadn’t and that everyone had already left the building like he’d said. By the time they’d redressed and left the office, the salon had been empty. Thank God.

After she’d left the salon that night, Tucker followed her home in his truck and they’d spent the rest of the night in her bed—having sex and talking. At least she’d talked. It seemed like every time she asked him questions about himself, he changed the subject back to her or kissed her until she didn’t feel like talking anymore.

She pulled her Jeep into the garage and closed the door. She couldn’t exactly be angry about his lack of personal disclosure. There were certain things in her past that she wasn’t going to talk about either.

The cell in her purse rang before she even got in the back door. She figured it was someone at the salon and answered without looking at the number. “This is Lily.”

“This is your neighbor. Come over so I can kiss you good night.”

Lily smiled. “Mom?”

Tucker chuckled and she could see his smile in her head. A smile that curved his lips and lit up his brown eyes. “Come over or I’ll come over and get you.”

She couldn’t have that. Her mother might walk in. “Give me a few minutes.” She hung up and changed out of the yoga outfit she’d worn in anticipation of working out. She had a whole different workout in mind now and changed into a pink-and-blue polka dot nighty, pink thong, and pink cowboy boots. She tied her trench coat around her waist and checked her pink lipstick in the mirror.

There were three boards missing at the back of the fence that separated her yard from Tucker’s. The previous owner’s Newfoundland, Griffin, had always preferred her yard to his; and no matter how many times she’d fixed the boards, Griffin knocked them down whenever he heard Pippen playing outside. Griffin had been a sweetheart of a dog–huge, but a sweetheart who’d had a real fondness for Pip. After about the fifth time of Griffin knocking down the boards, Lily had given up and left them stacked neatly on the ground.

Lily grabbed a pot of coffee on her way out the door.

Tucker had said several times that he wanted her. He wanted everything about her, but he didn’t know everything about her. He didn’t know her past. He didn’t know that people thought she was crazy. At least, she figured if he did know, he would have mentioned it right before he took off running for the hills. She wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

She moved through her yard, slipped through the fence, and knocked on his back door. “Italian roast?” she asked and held up the pot as he answered the door.

His brows pulled over his eyes and his scar wrinkled. “How did you get back here?” He wore a beige cold-weather base layer that clung to his chest and arms like a second skin. And of course his work pants and boots.

“A few boards are missing in the fence.”

He held the door open and she stepped inside. “Convenient.”

The kitchen was pretty much as she recalled from the last time she’d been in the place, when the realtor had spruced up the place for an open house. Oak cabinets, white walls, new gray counter tops, and vinyl flooring with a stone pattern. A small black cat sat by the door to the garage, lapping up milk from one of two purple bowls with flowers painted around the edges. The bowls sat on a little white rug with the name PINKY written in pink at the bottom.

Lily set the carafe on the counter and reached for her belt. “My mom told me you have a cat.”

“Pinky got out and I had to track her down that day I met your mother,” Tucker said as he reached into a cupboard and pulled out two plain white mugs. “Pinky has no survival skills.”

Lily bit the side of her lip to keep from laughing. “How did you end up with a cat with no survival skills?”

“She belonged to an old girlfriend.”

“And she just gave her to you?” Lily shrugged out of her coat, hung it over a chair, and stooped down by the little cat.

“Not exactly. The girlfriend moved out and left her cat behind.”

The hem of the nighty slid down her thighs as she lightly stroked the cat from the back of her head to her tail. “She abandoned her animal?” Lily couldn’t imagine that. She liked cats but didn’t have a pet because she wasn’t home enough to take care of one. Now that Griffin was gone, Pippen was harassing her for a dog.

When Tucker didn’t answer her question, she looked up over her shoulder at him. He stood in the middle of the room—two mugs of coffee in his hands, like his feet were frozen in place. “What?”

“What are you wearing?”

She stood. “A comfy nighty and my cowboy boots.”

“Panties?” He held the mug toward her as his eyes slid over his body.

“No self-respecting Southern lady leaves the house without her hair in place, her makeup done, and her panties on.” She took the mug from his hand and blew into it. “That sort of fast behavior could lead to a bad reputation. I went to high school with Francine Holcomb, and she left the house without wearing her undies on more than one occasion. Her reputation never did recover. ’Course, everyone knew that Francie was as loose as grits, bless her heart.” She took a sip. She was nervous and had to stop before she sounded like her mother. “How was your day?”

He brought his gaze up to hers. “Better now.”

For the first time since she’d stepped in his kitchen, she noticed the pinch of exhaustion at the corners of his brown eyes. “You look tired. Did something happen at work?”

He shrugged a shoulder and leaned his hip into a counter. “I responded to a call about one this morning at Rodale Jewelry store on Seventh near the highway. When I got there, a guy was trying to kick in the back door. He saw me and took off.” He took a swallow of coffee. “I chased him for about half a mile before I caught him climbing inside a Dumpster behind Rick’s Bait & Tackle.”

Lily wrinkled her nose. “Did you have to climb into the Dumpster?”

“I grabbed his belt just as he was diving in and pulled him back out. It was real ripe too. Smelled like Rick had just thrown out some expired bait. If I’d had to jump in there and get covered with fish eggs and dead crickets, I’d have been pissed.”

She couldn’t imagine running in work boots and gear. She was in good shape, but probably would have passed out after a hundred feet. “Was he from around here?”

“Odessa.” Tucker looked at the scratches across the back of his hand. “He was scrappy for such a skinny guy.”

Lily moved toward him and took his hand in hers. “How’d this happen?”

“He didn’t want to be cuffed very badly, and I scrapped it on the concrete trying to dig his arm from underneath him.”

She raised his hand to her mouth and lightly kissed it. “Better?”

“Yes.” He looked back into her eyes and nodded. “He tried to kick me in the balls too.”

“I’m not going to kiss your hairy balls, Tucker.”

He chuckled like he thought he was real funny. “Didn’t hurt to mention it.”

She dropped his hand and thought for a moment. “Well, maybe if you got them waxed.”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Do men do that?”

“Some men.” He looked so horrified it was her turn to chuckle. “They wax their whole bodies. It’s called manscaping.”

He set his mug on the counter. “No one is going to put hot wax anywhere near my balls.” He ran his hands up her arms and pulled her close.

“Don’t be a baby.” She set her mug on the counter next to his. “I get waxed.”

“I noticed.” He grinned. “I like it. It makes going down on you real nice and neat. I can see what I’m doing.”

Her eyes widened and she felt color creep up her cheeks. “You looked at my . . . my crotch.”

“Of course. My face was down there. I don’t know why you’re embarrassed. You’ve got a real nice . . .” He paused as if searching for the right word then gave up. “I don’t like the word crotch. I’ve got a crotch. You’re all high and tight and pretty down there. Like a juicy peach.” His brows drew together. “Or is that one of those things I shouldn’t say?”

She didn’t know. She supposed it was a compliment, but it had been a while since she’d been involved with a man. She couldn’t recall if they talked so free and easy in the beginning or if they saved their real thoughts for later—after they reached that comfortable stage. Or was it just Tucker? “Have you always talked this way to women?” Or maybe guys Tucker’s age where just more direct.

He looked up toward the ceiling and thought a minute. “No.” His gaze returned to hers. “I used to have a filthy mouth. When I was in the Army I talked a lot worse. I had to work really hard to get the f-word out of every sentence. I couldn’t even ask for the ketchup without dropping it at least twice. In the military, swearing is not only a way of life, it’s an art form.” He slid his hands across her shoulders to her neck and his thumbs brushed her chin and jaw. “Living with a bunch of guys for months on end in a bunker in an Afghanistan outpost will turn anyone into an animal. You get shot at every day, live in dirt, and the food’s shitty. Inventive swearing is just something to do to pass the time and impress the other guys.”

“You must have liked it. You did it for ten years.”

“I loved it right up until the second that I didn’t.”

“What made you decide you didn’t love it anymore?” She put her palms on his flat belly and brushed her fingers across the fabric of his shirt. She knew he loved it when she ran her hands all over him. Her touch seemed to soothe even as it excited him. And she loved the feel of his hard muscles and tight skin beneath her hand and mouth.

“The last time I took rounds, I got shot five times. Four were stopped by my ballistic plates.” Her fingers stopped and she raised her gaze to where he pointed at the scar on his forehead. “The fifth got me here and I decided I didn’t want to be taken out that way. I’d given the Army enough. It was time to do something else. When my enlistment was up, I got out.”

She stared at his forehead, horrified. “You could have died, Tucker. I bet your family was worried sick.”

“I didn’t die and I’m here with you.” He kissed her upturned mouth. “I like having you here when I come home. You should come over every morning.”

She settled against his chest. “I can’t every morning. I have to work.”

“What time do you work today?”

“I have to be there by noon.”

He raised the big watch on his wrist. “Then why are we out here wasting time?” He reached for her hand, led her out of the kitchen, and through the living room. She got a quick impression of wood and leather and real art on the walls—no nudie posters or dogs playing poker painted on velvet. He had a big screen TV and books. They continued down the hall and she looked in a bathroom that appeared surprisingly clean. She hadn’t known what to expect, but not this. Not this grown-up house, with big-boy furniture. It just didn’t fit her preconceived image of him. “Do you play Xbox?”

“I’m thirty, not thirteen.” He stopped next to a bed with a real headboard. “I’m only too glad to show you I’m a grown man. Although, after our sexual three-peat the other night, I’m surprised it’s even in question.”

During the next few weeks, Lily snuck through the back fence several more times after she took Pippen to school. There were some women, she supposed, who would have qualms about sneaking around. That would feel uneasy or guilty or that she was doing something wrong. Lily wasn’t one of them. She liked Tucker. She liked spending time with him. She was wildly attracted to him and he made her laugh. He seemed to have his head on straight and he was good to her son. He was also very good in bed, and she didn’t want to stop sneaking through the fence to spend time with him.

The more time she spent with him, the more she discovered things about him. Like that Tucker recycled old wood. He made a coffee table out of an old door and a chair and his entertainment center out of wood he’d reclaimed from a demolished ranch house near Houston. She also learned that he ran five miles on a treadmill and lifted weights, which was good because he liked a big breakfast before he went to bed in the morning.

While he ate, she sipped coffee and answered questions he asked about her life. He himself gave up little about his own, though. He talked about his job and who he’d arrested and on what charge, and he talked about playing basketball with Pippen while she was at work. He talked a little about the men who’d served with him in the Army and his time in Iraq and Afghanistan. He said that after he got out of the Army, he was closed off but wasn’t anymore. For a guy who didn’t consider himself “closed off,” he would only go so deep into his life, and when she asked about his family, he told her they were all dead. Case closed. End of story.

Conversely, he asked a lot of questions about her family, and like him, she only went so deep. She told him about growing up in such a small town and that she’d fallen for Rat Bastard Ronnie Darlington because Ronnie owned a truck and looked good in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She talked about her low expectations and lower self-esteem. She talked about Ronnie leaving her with a two-year-old and a drained bank account, but didn’t mention the part about driving her car into his house.

On the third Monday they both had off, she told him about the time her sister Daisy had tried to kick Ronnie in the crotch outside the Minute Mart. Of course, she didn’t mention that she’d been involved in a hair-pulling fight with Kelly the Skank at the same time. Let him think Daisy, the responsible one, was the crazy sister.

They spent the next few hours in bed, and when she got up and dressed he stacked his hands behind his head and watched her.

“When are you going to come to my front door?” he asked.

She looked across her shoulder at him as she hooked her bra behind her back. “I can’t do that.” She’d been the subject of gossip and speculative gazes most of her life, but she hadn’t given the people of Lovett anything to talk about in a long time. She planned to keep it that way. “People will talk.”

“Who cares?”

She reached for her blouse and threaded her arms though the sleeves. “I do. I’m a single mother.” She pulled her hair from beneath the collar. “I have to be careful.” And if and when their relationship ended, no one would know about it. She’d probably be upset. It would be awkward, but the whole town wouldn’t know she’d been dumped again—this time by a younger man. She could hold her head up, and Pippen wouldn’t have to live it down.

Tucker sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed. He watched her button up the front and he stood and stepped into a pair of jeans. He loved opening his back door and seeing here there, but he wanted more. “There’s a difference between being careful and thinking we need to keep a dirty secret.”

She glanced up from her hands. “I don’t think we’re a dirty secret.” A secret, yes. Dirty, no.

“Have you told your sister about me?” He arranged his junk then zipped up his pants. “Your mother? Anyone?”

Her blond hair brushed her cheeks as she shook her head. “Why is it anyone’s business?”

“Because we’re sneaking around like we’re doing something wrong and we’re not.” He reached for a T-shirt and pulled it over his head. “I told you right up front I want all of you. I’m not going to treat you like you’re just a piece of ass.”

“I appreciate that, Tucker.” She stepped into a pair of black pants. “But I have a ten-year-old son and I have to be very careful.”

“I like Pippen. I’d play ball with him even if you weren’t in the picture. He’s a funny little kid, and I think he likes me.”

“He does.”

“I would never do anything to hurt him.”

She looked up at him as she buttoned her pants. “Kids are cruel. I don’t want our relationship to be something that Pippen has to hear about at school.”

More than anyone, he knew how mean kids could be. “Duly noted.” But it was more than Pippen. Tucker might be younger than Lily, but that didn’t mean he’d been born yesterday. For some reason, Lily wanted to keep their relationship a secret for reasons other than her son. Tucker wanted to get a megaphone and let the whole town know. This feeling was new to him. He’d been in love before, but never like this. Never fallen this hard—so hard he wanted to put his hands on her shoulders and shake her even as he wanted to pull her into his chest and keep her there forever.

This situation was new to him. She had a son. He had to be careful of Pippen’s feelings, but that didn’t mean he was going to hide like he was doing something wrong. As if Lily had to live like a nun and they had to sneak around like sinners. He’d be respectful, but he wasn’t anyone’s secret and sneaking around just wasn’t his style.