Page 41 of Snowed

“You’re not looking for fucking amazing sex with someone who has the utmost respect for you?” He inched closer.

My body was on fire as I looked down at his strong, tattooed arms. Despite the arousal burning through me, I managed to say, “I’m not just looking for sex.”

“And what makes you think that’s all I want?”

“I don’t know. I just assumed—”

The doorbell rang.

“Shit,” I muttered.

Tucker’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s that?”

I peeked out the window to see Maggie’s car outside. “It’s your sister,” I said, heading toward the door.

“Fuck.”

I opened. “Hey.” I let out a shaky breath as I ran a hand through my hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how your date went, since I was on my way home.” She noticed Tucker. “What are you doing here?”

Tucker looked over at me and proceeded to lie. “I followed Lucy home from the bar to make sure she was okay because I noticed this weird dude leave right after her. I got paranoid that maybe he was following her.”

“Oh shit. That’s scary.” She turned to me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I exhaled. “False alarm.”

“Unfortunately, it’s another weird dude she has to be more concerned about…” He winked at me.

“Huh?” Maggie looked confused.

I shot daggers at Tucker.

“Wait. Why were you at the bar tonight, Lucy? I thought you were on a date with Mr. Side-Part. Lorne?”

“I was. I stopped by after.”

Maggie frowned. “The date was a dud?”

“Yeah, kind of. Lorne is a great guy. But I wasn’t into him. We used all our spark on the first date.”

“Darn it. I was sure he was the one.” She sighed. “Well, once again I’m gonna have to work even harder to find you a match.”

I looked over at Tucker and noticed his sullen expression. “I’ll have my marker ready,” he said with a sigh.

CHAPTER 5

Lucy

Tucker hasn’t looked my way once.

The following week, Maggie’s Twelve Dates of Christmas fiasco was almost at an end. I hadn’t heard from her since the night she’d stopped by my house and found Tucker, so I thought—no, I hoped—that meant she was done trying to fix me up. But no such luck. This afternoon she’d texted me to be at the bar at six o’clock. She said she’d found the perfect guy for me. Again.

I tried to say I had to work late and couldn’t make it, but she just made the time later. Two other excuses hadn’t worked either, so here I was, on a date with Patrick Hastings—a dentist from the Upper East Side. He was nice enough, but I found it difficult to concentrate on the man in front of me when a certain other man was behind the bar twenty feet away.

Tucker had been ignoring me all night, yet I glanced over at the bar again, only to find him talking to three attractive women. I forced my attention back to my date and managed a smile. “So, Patrick, tell me something about you that you usually wouldn’t tell a woman on a first date because it’s embarrassing.”

Patrick sipped his beer. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t look at me differently after I do. Normally, I wouldn’t leak this type of sensitive information until at least the fourth date—when I’ve had a chance to lift something heavy, maybe grill something for you, and grow some facial hair.”