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. Jace reached over and covered her hand with his, as though he felt her reaction. Her cheeks burned when she looked up at him. What was it about these two men? It was as though there was a current connecting the three of them.
She’d felt it with Tucker last night. It wasn’t that they didn’t need to speak, it was more that they shouldn’t. What passed between them was more than words could communicate.
She felt the same way with Jace today. And now that Tucker was back, she felt it with both of them and wasn’t sure she liked it.
When he walked past and brushed against her, his heat instantaneously spread throughout her body. She looked up, but he didn’t look back, and Jace saw the whole thing—Blythe didn’t need to look at him to know it.
“Dinner,” Liv announced, and everyone made their way to the table. Blythe felt more as though she was floating than walking; she wasn’t sure her feet even touched the ground. Jace pulled a chair out for her and sat to her right. Tucker sat in the chair on her left, and when he did, the feeling that spread over her made her lose her breath.
Jace covered her hand with his, but she didn’t look at him. She looked at Tucker instead. He looked different today. His eyes were dark. Instead of green, they looked brown. His face was tight, like it had been the day before, when they first met. She’d seen his darkness then, and now it was back.
“Hi,” she said softly, moving her hand away from Jace.
He turned to look at her, but didn’t answer. Instead, he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.
Blythe pushed the food around on her plate. She wasn’t hungry. She looked across the table at her dad, who was questioning her with his eyes.
With so many people and conversations flying around the long table, she didn’t feel the need to talk. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have known what to say. Jace and Tucker were quiet too, but she could feel them on either side of her.
She was so uncomfortable, she wanted to leave the table. Worse, she wanted to leave Crested Butte, go home, and escape the heat emanating from these two men.
Jace put his arm across the back of her chair, and when he did, Tucker glared at him. It didn’t deter him. Instead of moving his arm away, he reached farther and laid his hand possessively on her shoulder.
She wanted to shrug it away. She didn’t want him touching her. She didn’t want Tucker to touch her either.
Tucker looked at her plate. “Not hungry?” Those were the first words he’d spoken since he sat down at the table.
“I’m not,” she murmured.
“Me either,” she thought she heard him say, but he had cleaned his plate.
It was as though the three of them were frozen in silence—trapped in an air pocket of stifling tension.
“Jeez, look at the three of you. What happened, did somebody die?” her father asked. Blythe felt the already overpowering tension spread around the table. Her dad laughed, but it was too late; the words were already out there.
Tucker mumbled, “excuse me,” and left the table.
“What?” asked Mark. “I was joking.”
“It’s okay,” said Carol, Jace and Tucker’s mom, who was sitting next to Mark. She patted his hand as she said it.
“So, somebody did die?”
“Mark, drop it,” said Paige, giving her husband a stern look.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Stop,” Paige said again.
“Who’s ready for pie?” asked Liv. “Anybody?” She looked around the table, trying to draw attention away from Mark, who wasn’t doing a very good job recovering his gaff.
Blythe got up in search of Tucker. She hadn’t seen where he’d gone, so she went downstairs first, but didn’t see him. When she turned to go back upstairs, Jace stopped her.
“He’s gone.”
“What do you mean, he’s gone? Where did he go?”
“I’m not sure. He took the truck.”
