Page 8 of Pretty Little Scars

His voice is hushed, and it feels like we’re in a cocoon, sitting here in this vehicle, watching the cows roam around and eat. I don’t know him. I never did, not really.

And yet, I’m tempted to tell him so much more than I’ve ever confessed to anyone else. Things thatno oneshould ever know.

“Because Bitterroot Valley was not the wholesome, happy place for me that it is for so many others. It doesn’t hold good memories for me. But I missed my sisters and my brother, and well. Here I am.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says quietly. “I’ll keep it professional, if that’s what you want.”

I swallow thickly and nod. “I appreciate that.”

“Let’s go unpack your car.”

He drives us back to the house, and when I open the back of my SUV, Tucker laughs.

“Jesus, you weren’t kidding. Where’s the rest of your stuff?”

“This is it.”

Two suitcases, one box, and a couple of tote bags.

My whole life, right there.

“These areallof your belongings.” He lifts an eyebrow, and his green eyes watch me with humor, andholy shit, why does he have to be so fucking hot?

“Yep. I’m not a hoarder. I don’t hold onto shit that I don’t need.” I reach for the suitcases, but he brushes my hand aside and takes the big luggage himself, leaving me the totes. It onlytakes us two trips to get everything unloaded and carried to the cabin. “You can put the box there on the kitchen counter.”

He does as I ask and stands on the other side of the counter as I open the box and pull out some food.

Protein shake mix, protein bars, trail mix, nuts, dried fruit.

He lifts an eyebrow, and I return the gesture, enjoying the hell out of him.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re judging me.” I narrow my eyes at him, beginning to feel the easy flirtation that I always felt before slide between us, and it feels so damn good, I want to hold onto it. I want to bottle it and bring it out whenever I need it.

“I am definitely not doing that.” God, his smile could end entire wars. He has such a calm presence. I should be asking him to leave, but I actually don’t mind having him here in my space.

“Youare,” I reply and turn to open a cupboard and place my snacks on the shelf. The back of my shirt rides up, and I quickly yank it down, then glance at him to make sure he didn’t see it.

He’s reading the back of the protein powder container, thank God.

“These are easy and quick things to eat when I’m on the run, which is often.”

He nods. “Too bad they all taste like shit.”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

His green eyes lift to meet mine, and everything in me goes gooey.

Fucking gooey.

What in the actual hell? I’m never gooey over anyone, least of all because of a man.

“As long as you’re eating, that’s all that matters.”

He sets the tub aside and watches me for a long moment. Even the silent moments with him are comfortable.