Page 27 of Pretty Little Scars

I have a meeting of my own, and then I want to do some baking before I watch hockey with the Hendrix family.

I love to bake.I’m not a great cook, but I can bake the hell out of a cake, or cookies, or well, anything. It’s what I do when I’m happy, sad, stressed. Pretty much any occasion calls for chocolate croissants or brownies or sourdough bread.

So, I spent some time this afternoon whipping up a strawberry cream cake, and now I’m walking to the back door of Tucker’s house to watch hockey and have dinner.

I texted Tucker a few minutes ago, and he told me to come right in. I don’t even need to knock. But that makes me nervousbecause his whole family is here, and does that make it look like we’re a couple? I pause outside the door and take a deep breath.

Am I overthinking this?

Yes. Yes, I am.

So, with my lip caught in my teeth, I open the back door and walk into the kitchen, where Tucker’s leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, muscles on full display, and it smells so freaking good in here that I immediately start to salivate.

Whether it’s because of the delicious smells or the delicious muscles, we don’t know.

We totally know.

But the best part is the way he’s smiling at me, with green eyes full of happiness.

“Hi,” I say shyly. “I brought dessert. And I know your dad’s diabetic, so it’s sugar-free.”

The smile falls from his face, and Tucker walks over to me, takes the plate from me, and sets it on the counter, and then his hand comes up to my cheek, and he brushes his thumb over my skin, giving me goose bumps.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he murmurs.

“I know, but I like to bake, and Greg shouldn’t be left out. Harper told me that he has a sweet tooth.”

Tucker’s jaw flexes, and his eyes dip to my mouth.

“You’re the sweetest damn thing,” he whispers before pulling back and his hands ball into fists at his side. His words are soft and lovely, but his body language screams that something is wrong.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

“Never better.” He lets out a breath, and then we hear cheering from the living room. “I have chicken and steak fajitas with all the fixings if you’re hungry, and everyone’s watching the game. Xander’s on fire tonight.”

“Oh, fun. Okay. This looksamazing.” I quickly make myself a plate and then hurry into the living room with the others. “What’s the score?”

“You’re here!” Ava jumps up and gives me a hug, and I hold my plate out to the side so she doesn’t squish it between us. “Tuck said you might come, and I’m so glad you did.”

My eyes find Tucker’s, and he winks at me.

Damn, even his wink is sexy.

“The fajitas are thebomb,” Harper says as she shoves one in her face. “The baby likes them too.”

Harper is almost ready to pop. She looks like it could happen any second, and she’s resting her plate on her belly like it’s a table. She’s completely adorable.

“Where’s Blake?” I ask her.

“Dr. Hubby is at the hospital,” she says around her bite of fajita. “But he said to tell everyone hi, and I’m going to take him a plate of food. It might even last long enough for him to eat it.”

I smirk and glance around.

Their whole family is here. Both sisters, Tucker, and their brother, Easton, who I haven’t met before, but he sends me a nod. He doesn’t give me the creeps at all. In fact, he looksnice. A lot like Tucker, with dark hair and green eyes and muscles that rival his brother’s. He also has all the tattoos in the world down one arm.

The sexy gene is prevalent in this room.

Greg is in a chair, his eyes pinned to the TV as Xander, the only sibling not here, skates over the ice, a puck on his stick, weaving through the opposing team.