Tucker. Lori Foster
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“You don’t say.” Favoring his injured arm, Tucker leaned against the metal bed. “Given the crazy way he was driving in the storm, that doesn’t surprise me.”
“It gets better,” Moody promised. “The passenger side of his car showed evidence of his brush with the weather van. Plus he has an outstanding warrant for parole violation. They arrested him, and it doesn’t sound like he’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.”
A slow, devastating smile—at least in Kady’s opinion—spread over Tucker’s face. “Perfect. Someone else grabbing him is the next best thing to me dealing with him myself.” He started for the door.
Kady shook her head. “You’re in no shape to—”
He interrupted her, saying to the deputy, “You can drive me back out to get the SUV?”
“Uh...” Moody looked between them, then cleared his throat. “She already took care of that.”
Tucker went absurdly still. “She?”
Kady felt guilty heat scorch her cheeks, but she faked a bold confidence. “While you were being x-rayed, I arranged for someone to get your ride.” Smile as bright as she could make it, she stated, “I’ll drive you home.”
He turned to stare at her as if she’d spoken in a foreign language, then he gave his attention back to the deputy. “Where did the SUV go?”
“Your house,” she answered. “Even though you shouldn’t attempt driving—”
Again he ignored her. “Keys are with it?”
Moody’s gaze continued to bounce back and forth in a panicked ping-pong. “Yes, sir.”
Uh-oh, Kady thought. Bringing out the “sir” in an otherwise casual department meant Tucker was likely more annoyed than he showed.
But then, he always hid his emotions well.
Except for when he’d kissed her. Remembering gave her new purpose, and she launched into action. “Go on,” she said to Moody, shooing him away. “I’ll see that Tucker gets home safely.”
Eyes widening, the deputy looked at the sheriff.
Tucker’s jaw clenched before he visibly relaxed and nodded. “Thanks, Moody.”
With that polite dismissal plain, Kady watched the deputy retreat with alacrity. Pleased that she’d gotten her way, she hooked her arm through Tucker’s on his uninjured side and smiled up at him. “You must be hungry and tired. And your shoulder has to be hurting.” She led him through the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
When he smiled down at her, a really serene, sort of knowing smile, she started to worry.
Kady frowned. “What?”
Now he was leading her. “You can drive me home, but you’re not feeding me.”
“Don’t be silly. I don’t mind—”
“Obviously not, since you went to all the trouble to set this up.” He glanced at her. “But Gabe will.”
When her feet froze, Tucker urged her onward.
“Dad doesn’t know about any of this.”
“He will.” Automatic doors slid open as they reached them, and they stepped out into the damp, dark night. Tucker inhaled a deep breath, glanced around the lot and finally spotted the van. As he headed in that direction, almost dragging her along now, he said, “Just as soon as I call him.”
BRINGING OUT THE big guns was a desperate move, but then, he was a desperate guy. He’d already kissed her once, and Tucker knew if she stuck around, which she seemed determined to do, he’d cave again.
If that happened—in the privacy of his home—God only knew what might happen. He couldn’t risk it.
He’d awakened the man to rat her out, and Gabe sounded properly concerned over the phone despite Tucker’s repeated assurances that she hadn’t been hurt.
“She’s dropping me off,” Tucker said, watching Kady’s profile, “and then she’ll be heading home. Yeah, I’m sure she’ll call you once she’s safely back at her apartment.”
As he spoke, Kady’s expression turned downright surly, but she also looked hurt—and damn it, that hurt him, too.
“No problem,” Tucker said in reply to Gabe thanking him for the call. “I figured you’d want to know that she was fine before the gossip got around.” In a town the size of Buckhorn, any and all happenings spread like wildfire. Tucker had no doubt that Gabe would have been getting calls from relatives and neighbors alike first thing in the morning.
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