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“Really,” Cooper replied. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
Something hot and dangerous pulsed inside Tucker, and for a second, he visualized his fist connecting with Cooper’s perfect fucking nose.
He didn’t act on it, and he sure as hell didn’t pay any attention to it.
What he did do was set his empty beer bottle on the bar and, with a curt nod toward his mother, headed for the lady in red.
Chapter Eight
“Here’s some champagne. It will help loosen you up.”
Abby accepted the glass from Betty Jo, her palms sweaty and her fingers wooden. It was a miracle she didn’t drop the slender flute, and for a few seconds she concentrated hard so that she wouldn’t.
Nervous didn’t come close to describing what was going on inside her stomach. Heck, it was like a convention of butterflies had gone bat-shit crazy. How the hell had she let Betty Jo talk her into wearing this dress? This makeup?
She glanced lower. These shoes?
They had come-fuck-me written all over them and with the slit nearly up to her hip they were there for everyone to see. That’s if anyone’s eyes made it past the top of her dress which, at the moment, barely supported her breasts. And she didn’t want to think about how low the back was. In fact she’d asked Betty Jo twice if her butt crack wasn’t peeking out of the top of the gown.
Never in her life had she worn a dress that didn’t allow for a bra or underwear. Never. But thanks to Betty Jo Barker, Abby was going commando. And thanks to the hotel spa, she was smooth in places she’d never been smooth before.
Holy. Hell.
Back in Betty’s room when she’d glanced in the mirror, she hadn’t recognized herself. Not that she wasn’t impressed with the results. She knew she looked good. Really good. Like she could walk a red carpet beside Betty Jo and maybe hold her own.
That was pretty damn good.
But looking sexy and fitting into that skin were two different things. She just didn’t know if she could carry off the look. Didn’t know if she could walk the walk.
Abby had always been a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. Even back in New York, she wasn’t much for the night clubs unless they included a rock band or the blues. Hence, the T-shirt and jeans…maybe the occasional skirt—but never anything like this.
Oh God. And she always wore underwear. Sheesh, if her mother knew the state of what was going on between her legs, she’d have a freaking coronary.
You never know if you’ll be in an accident Abigail. Always wear undies. Clean undies.
“You look hot,” Betty said with a grin. “Like if I was bent that way, I’d totally do you.”
Abby managed a smile and took a sip of champagne. She’d thought they’d be overdressed, but Betty had assured her that the Simons didn’t do dinner in a fancy restaurant unless they were dressed to the nines. Judging by the jewels, suits and gowns, Abby had seen as they entered the room, Betty was right.
Not that it made Abby feel any better, but still…
Betty leaned in. “Tucker looks more than a little hot under the collar.”
Even though she hadn’t looked out at the sea of Simons and extended family, Abby knew exactly where Tucker was. She could feel the touch of him, as if he was next to her. That’s how hot her Tucker Simon radar was.
That’s how much trouble she was in.
She gulped some more champagne and kept her eyes glued to Betty, who looked real pleased with herself.
“You’ve already won Eden over, and she’s a hard nut to crack let me tell you.” Betty smiled at someone, a quick sort of thing before she continued. “God, it took me at least six months to get on her good side, and it finally took a home cooked meal which I took credit for but my sister Bobbi prepared.” Betty’s eyes flashed with mischief. “I also promised to cook Beau at least one home-cooked meal a week and I gave her a piece of artwork from my soon to be brother-in-law, Shane Gallagher.”
That name rang a bell.
“Shane Gallagher, the hot guy artist with the tattoos and bad reputation is engaged to your sister?”
Abby remembered Tucker talking about him after a showing of his art at a gallery not far from her family’s pub. Tucker had come in with a blonde on his arm and the blonde had spent most of the evening with a bored look on her face while Tucker had shown Abby pictures of Shane’s work.
“That’s the one,” Betty nodded.
