I doubt that. “Okay.” I cross both arms over my chest. “What am I thinking?”
His smile widens. “That I’m ridiculously handsome and of course I would be the favorite uncle.”
I snort, hating how endearing I’m starting to find this guy. “You’re absolutely right. That is exactly what was running through my mind.”
Tucker lifts his brows. “See? What’d I tell you? I’m basically a mind reader.” He tips his head at the seat next to him. “Come sit down with me and you can try to read my mind next.”
I take a deep breath, because I knew this moment was coming. I just didn’t expect it to seem so… Weirdly normal. I thought I was going to be doing a lot of faking when it came to pretending to like Tucker Bradshaw, but while he might not be the kind of man I would ever be interested in romantically, he is turning out to be surprisingly tolerable.
Crossing the room, I slowly lower into the seat, keeping a reasonable amount of space between us. Shifting around, I try to get comfortable, placing both hands on my knees while my spine stays stick straight. I glance over at him, all relaxed and cool and calm, comparing it to my rigid positioning.
“This isn’t going to work, is it?” I rub my palms down the front of my jeans, trying to wipe away the nervous sweat making them clammy. “Your mother’s never going to buy this.”
Tucker tips his head, still looking perfectly chill. “Probably not if you sit next to me like that.”
I press my lips together, taking another second to calm my racing heart before I ask, “How should I sit next to you?”
I’ve never actually been in a relationship. Certainly not like the one we’re attempting to portray. All I’ve ever been was a dirty little secret.
And a dangerous liability.
“Well,” Tucker’s eyes are oddly focused, “You should probably try being a little closer to me.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I blow out a breath. “I can do that.” It’s fine. Perfectly doable.
Slowly, I scoot across the cushion until my thigh is aligned with his, our bodies meeting from hip to knee. The positioning also brings my shoulder against his side, and the amount of heat radiating off of him is almost shocking.
Not in a bad way, just in an unexpected one.
“Good girl.”
My head snaps toward him. “Did you just call me a good girl?”
Tucker cocks a brow at me. “Are you seriously going to try to tell me you’re the only firstborn daughter in the world who doesn’t like hearing that?”
I scoff. Then sputter. Then I make some sort of weird sound I can’t even really identify.
Because I’m a little concerned he might not be wrong.
To be fair, no man has ever said those two words to me before, so my opinion of them was purely based on expectations and assumptions. I thought it would be weird for a guy to say them.Possibly even creepy. No way could women actually like that sort of thing.
Yet here I sit, resisting the unexplainable urge to preen.
Clearing my throat, I drag my eyes from his face. “Moving on.”
I swear Tucker softly chuckles beside me, but I’m going to ignore that right along with the reaction I absolutely did not have to him calling me a good girl.
“All right. Moving on then.” Tucker’s voice is low. Deep. Closer when he says, “I should probably have my arm around you instead of on the couch.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to move. Anticipating the feel—the weight—of his arm on my shoulders.
But it doesn’t come.
Again, my head is snapping his way. “Well?”
Tucker’s eyes move over my face. “I’m not in the habit of touching women without their consent, Ruth.”
Why is he like this? I don’t understand what’s happening. Being nice to my daughter. Overly respectful in every freaking capacity.
