The very feel of her in his arms…
The perfect, remembered fit of her mouth to his…
Lena was still chattering away. “And Tucker, look at it this way. Even if Lori hasn’t told you yet about prom night, well, what was the harm, really, in what we did?” She fiddled with her big skirt, brushing at it, smoothing it. “Oh, I am just making much too big a deal about this.” She flung her arms wide again. “It was a very naughty little trick by two teenage girls, something you have to know both Lori and I wish we had never so much as considered…oh, and I do hope you’ll forgive us—both of us?”
Tucker couldn’t have answered her if he’d wanted to.
Dirk said, “Lena. I’m lost here. Stop circling the facts and spit ‘em the heck out.”
Lena let her flying hands fall to her lap. With another gusty sigh, she confessed to her husband, “Well, honey. Lori and I switched places on prom night eleven years ago. I stayed home and pretended to be Lori. She put on my pink prom dress and went to the dance with Tucker, in my place.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Dirk turned to Tucker. “And you never knew?”
Somehow, Tucker managed to answer, “‘Fraid not,” in a calm voice that betrayed nothing of the emotional tornado wreaking havoc within him. At the same time, the last piece of the puzzle spun in his mind, stopped, hovering in a holding pattern above the rest—and then dropped neatly into place.
That final piece had Brody’s face on it.
Chapter Nine
Maybe twenty seconds after Lena blew the whistle on that night eleven years ago, the doctor who’d taken charge of Lori when she reached the hospital appeared through the wide swinging doors to the patient area.
Lena, in a rustle of heavy skirts, jumped to her feet. “Dr. Zastrow, can we see her? Just for a minute or two, please?”
The handsome young doctor gave Lena a smittenlooking smile. “She’s all settled. Resting comfortably—and as for paying her one more visit, how can I refuse such a beautiful bride?”
Dirk got up then, fast, and went to draw Lena close to his side, making it clear to the doctor that this particular bride was very much taken. “Thanks,” he said flatly. “Which room is she in?”
Lena turned to Tucker, who’d yet to rise from his chair. “Tucker. Come on. We can go in now…”
He got up—not too fast; he felt slightly light-headed. And he took the few steps that brought him nose to nose with the good-looking surgeon. “You’re sure. She’s okay now?”
Zastrow smiled his movie-star smile. “She’s doing very well. I think, by now, it’s safe to say that she’s out of the woods.”
Lena quivered with impatience. “Tucker. Come on. Let’s go…”
But Tucker wasn’t going. He didn’t want to see her right then. He couldn’t see her—couldn’t trust himself not to…
No. Better not.
He turned to Lena. “I think I should head on over to your folks’ place, tell them the good news—and tell Brody, too, if he’s still awake.”
Brody, he thought, and then, impossibly, my son…
But wait. There was still that other guy from the night after the one she’d spent with him…
Or was there? Who the hell knew? Only Lori—sweet, beautiful Lori, who’d been lying to his face all along.
He still couldn’t quite get his mind around the thousand and one ways she’d pulled the damn wool over his eyes. Lie after lie after lie. He had a lot to say to her and none of it was pretty—which meant he didn’t dare to see her now. Not while she was flat on her back with twenty stitches in her head.
“But Tucker,” Lena wheedled, “you don’t need to go all the way over to the house. We can give my folks a call. And Lori’s expecting you, looking forward to—”
“No.” He fell back a step and put up a hand. “I should go. Tell her for me that I’ll see her…real soon. Tell her to get well quick.” Before Lena could argue any more, he spun on his heel and headed for the wide hallway that led out of there.
A minute or two later, he shoved through the hospital doors into the windy darkness of the night. The rain had stopped. Sometime during the long hours they’d waited to learn if Lori would make it, the wind had pushed the clouds along. Beyond the cover of the front entrance porte cochere, the sky was clear and thickly scattered with stars. He reached in his pocket for his keys…
And he remembered.
He had no damn car. It was somewhere in the club parking lot—maybe totaled and buried under the liftedoff roof of the clubhouse or an uprooted oak. Hell if he knew. And hell if he cared right at that moment.
He cared about getting where he was going, period—to the Billingsworth house, where he could see Brody. But Memorial was ten miles out of town and Tate’s Junction was too small to support a cab company. Tucker stood there in the darkness, beneath the jut of the porte cochere, staring out at the stars, swearing under his breath and considering his options.
Dirk might loan him the keys to whatever vehicle he and Lena had taken to get to the hospital. But to get those keys he’d have to go back inside and find Lena’s new husband, who was probably with her in Lori’s room…
Uh-uh. Not happening.
Tucker got out his cell and actually raised a dial tone. But he flipped it shut before auto-dialing the ranch. He didn’t want to drag anyone out of bed at that hour, not Tate and not Jesse Coutera, who ran the Double T garage. He could call a poker buddy, or his semiretired partner, Leland Hogan…
No. Same problem. It was a bad hour for asking favors. And he’d have to be civil to whoever he called; you didn’t call a buddy at midnight asking for a ride and not make some kind of effort to explain why. Tucker wasn’t feeling civil; he was in no mood to explain anything. He put his cell away.
Hands stuffed in his pockets, he started walking, thinking, as he strode across the parking lot, that walking was pretty stupid. It would take him hours to get to the Billingsworth place on foot.
But he didn’t much care right then how long it took. He only knew he was going there, that when he arrived, he would see Brody and…
Hell. And what? He didn’t know.
He didn’t know anything, really. But then again, he’d been around the damn world and never really known where he was going. At least, tonight, his destination was clear.
The wind was in his face, warm and still smelling of rain. He peeled off his jacket, slung it over his shoulder and kept on walking.
Lena patted Lori’s shoulder. “Dr. Zastrow says you’re gonna be just fine. I am so relieved. I can’t tell you. You gave us one whopper of a scare.”
Lori
