Raking one hand through his mop of wavy hair, he takes another long look over his shoulder. “Yeah. You can see it.” He turns back to me, expression super serious. “But it’s not done yet, so keep that in mind and don’t judge it too harshly.”
I would never judge anything Tucker does harshly. I mean, maybe I did at one point in time, but that was before I knew him. Before I started to understand a little bit of why he is the way he is. Who Tucker is at his core.
And it’s definitely not a womanizing fuckboy.
“I won’t.” I smile, hoping he can see the truth. “I just like seeing all the stuff you can make. It’s amazing what you can do.”
I never really thought too much about building or wood crafting. It wasn’t even on my radar. I’m not necessarily a crafty kind of girl, and my mom and I always lived in apartments, so that kind of thing never entered my mind. But now that I’ve gotten a glimpse at all the things Tucker can do, I’m not sure I’ll ever look at furniture and cabinets and bookshelves the same way again.
Tucker hesitates a second longer before finally stepping back, pulling the door open wide to let me in. I’m so eager to see what he’s done, I pretty much jump into the space, eyes draggingaround the room to see if any of my guesses were correct. When my gaze lands on what he’s been building, it takes me a second to identify what it is. Not because it isn’t easily identifiable, but because it’s not even in the realm of the possibilities I considered.
“I know it won’t be here long, but I wanted to make sure it works the way I think it will so I can make any changes before you go.” Tucker’s voice is soft. Almost hesitant as he explains. “I tried not to make it too big since we don’t know how large Birdie’s room will be when you move, but I still wanted her to have plenty of space to play.”
I don’t know what to say. Don’t know that I could get words out even if I did.
Because Tucker made my daughter the princess bed of every little girl’s dreams. A twin-sized mattress is set sideways and surrounded by walls covered in faux stone. Sconces with flickering yellow bulbs mimicking a flame are mounted at the head and foot, giving the sleeping space a relaxing glow. Two towers flank each end, complete with pointed roof lines covered in cedar shingles. Each one has a doorway leading inside, giving Birdie spaces to hide away and play pretend.
“I put ladders in each of the towers, so when she’s bigger she can climb up onto the platform above her bed.” Tucker crouches down, pointing to the path he’s describing. “But they’re removable, so you don’t have to attach them until it’s safe for her to use them.” He straightens, gesturing to the entire structure. “The whole thing can be disassembled and packed flat, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to move and put back together.”
I swallow hard, because I’m struggling to come to terms with what I’m seeing. “You made this for Birdie?”
Tucker shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I know she has that toddler bed now, but it won’t be long before she outgrows it, and I thought she might like this better.”
A weird sound comes out of me, and I don’t know if it’s alaugh or a sob or a scoff. Probably some combination of the three that just makes it sound like I’m choking to death. “Of course she will like it better. It’s amazing.” My eyes move from the bed to the man.
Heis amazing.
I launch myself at Tucker, winding both arms around his neck as I plant my mouth on his. Like so many of them recently, this kiss isn’t staged or planned or manufactured for the benefit of others. It’s for him. It’s to show my appreciation. To show him how much this matters to me.
How much he might matter to me.
It’s an unfortunate truth that I’ve accidentally found myself genuinely liking Tucker Bradshaw. It’s a little too easy to imagine what life could be like if this was real. If I could stay.
But it’s not and I can’t, so I might as well enjoy it while I have it. Enjoy him while I have him.
Leaning back, I meet his eyes. “Thank you.” I take a shuddering breath, wondering how hard it’s going to hurt when I leave him behind. “For everything.”
Tucker’s hand comes to my face, rough palm curving against my cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, Ruthless.” His voice is deep and soft. “I just want to see you and Birdie happy.”
My stomach clenches at his words, because I genuinely think they’re true. Tucker does want me and my daughter to be happy. But the warmth that realization brings is gone in a flash as my stomach drops.
Because I’m not sure how happy we will be when he’s not around.
25
Tucker
Apart of me was hoping Ruth had fallen asleep so I’d be able to assemble Birdie’s bed tonight without her knowing and I could show them both the finished product in the morning. But I’m not mad at how things actually worked out.
Especially not since it’s resulted in Ruth’s body pressed tight to mine.
I knew Ruth would like the castle bed I made for Birdie. To be fair, most people would be impressed with the thing. I’ve spent a huge amount of my own time—and paid a few of my employees to dedicate some of theirs—so I could have it done early enough Birdie can use it a little before they move.
I expected a sweet smile and a thank you. Possibly a hug. Ruth isn’t prone to big reactions, and each of those is the equivalent of someone else jumping up and down squealing with delight. I’m not sure what flinging herself into my arms and pressing her lips to mine equates to, besides me coming up with a litany of very bad ideas.
The primary one being that I should carry Ruth straight to my room so I can see what she looks like in my bed atleast once. Unfortunately, the second that thought registers, it’s all my brain is willing to fixate on besides how perfect she feels against me.
How much more perfect she feels under me.
