Page 9 of Playing With Love

“Griff called. He’s done with practice,” Wren told me as I approached.

Once again Phoenix’s gaze went between me and Tucker and I was reminded under all that tough-guy exterior he was a big ole softy and a good friend. The worry on his face was evident, his blue eyes full of concern. I gave him my best, I’m-a-badass-and-can-handle-anything look hoping he wouldn’t make a big deal about his departure. His lips twitched which meant he read my look.

Thank God.

I didn’t need him alerting Tucker I’d spilled my guts and bawled my eyes out when I’d mourned the loss of a possible future that would include him.

A mixture of hope and sadness took flight at the prospect of Tucker leaving with them. The warring emotions a stark reminder I shouldn’t be alone with the man. He was bad for my health.

After hugs, handshakes, and farewells were exchanged, Tucker moved around the table and took the chair Phoenix had vacated, placing him across the table from me.

“Sit, Lizzy.”

That killed.

Not wanting to show my hand or how much the nickname affected me, I sat.

Unfortunately, the server appeared at the table and Tucker took the opportunity to carve my heart out once again.

“Have you eaten?”

Not trusting my voice I shook my head.

“Can we please have an order of chicken fingers and fries, extra ranch. A burger, medium, with everything on the side.” His gaze dropped to the empty glass in front of me and went on. “Another Bloody Mary, Kettle One, and a Blue Moon, bottle’s fine.”

“I’ll get that in,” the server replied.

“Thanks.”

In everything that sucked at that moment, Tucker remembering my typical bar food order and my preferred vodka was at the top of the list. Why that hurt worse than his presence I didn’t understand but it did. I also hated how much I loved he ordered for me—always had.

“Tucker—”

The rest of my sentence died in my throat when his gray eyes landed on me. It wasn’t that he was staring at me, it was the way he stared. Eyes partially squinted, lips slightly downturned, studying me the way he did when he was working through a problem.

Like I was the problem.

Which I was.

“We need to talk,” he casually remarked like my heart wasn’t pounding against my ribs.

I squared my shoulders and found what was left of my strength. I was in Georgia to do my job, not aimlessly meander down memory lane reminiscing a time gone by with a man who I could never have.

So what, Tucker had broken my heart.

No, correction, I’d broken my heart when I’d walked away.

I was over it.

I’d moved on.

I was stronger than this.

I was also a big, ginormous liar.

“About?” I queried, attempting to match his nonchalance.

The server delivered our drinks, delaying Tucker’s response. Sadly the postponement wasn’t such I could flee before Tucker did what Tucker did best and laid out the situation without mincing words.