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“Shamus is organizing a T-shirt and collecting your clothes.”
“You can put me down while we wait.”
“And ruin my fun? You are a security flight risk. I will take you back into the bedroom once Shamus has everything you need.”
And then, our verbal debate kicks off for the next few minutes. The only compromise I get is eventually leaving Peace Café via the staff’s private back entrance on my own two feet. I am fully clothed, wearing a borrowed black “Limbitless Tees” bachelor party T-shirt and Tucker’s leather jacket, which is enormous on me.
Now here I am, thirty minutes later, sitting in the front passenger seat of my pride and joy: my 1970 midnight-blue Mini Cooper, two-door sports saloon with the two white stripes on the hood. Tucker Royal is at the wheel, with Shamus following behind in his 1964 starlight-black Pontiac GTO hardtop coupe. What can I say? I’m a vintage car enthusiast.
Tucker vetoed me swapping his leather jacket out for the one I have behind the front seats. I would be lying if I didn’t like the comfort his leather jacket afforded me. It felt good, my body blanketed by it. It smelled good.
I’ve been silent for the past twenty minutes. My sunglasses are on to dim the sunlight to assist with my aching head and foil my bossy driver from catching me sneaking sideways glances at him. I have used this quiet time well by scheming and compiling an exit strategy.
I won’t deny I’m curious about this man. How could I not be? I can tell he’s a good guy. I’m attracted to him, but now is my time to rise to my full potential and be my own boss. Control my destiny without any man-candy distractions, and I don’t want Tucker to know where I live.
Finally, I give in to the silence. “Honestly, I will be grateful if you take me halfway home, I can get a friend to collect me, and we can come back for Manny tomorrow. You’ve got a big night ahead of you, and I’m taking up your time unnecessarily.” There. How can he argue with that logic? And he still hasn’t pried my address out of me.
He gives me a sideways glance. “Manny?”
“That’s all you took from what I just said?”
“How about…” He pauses, keeping his eyes on the road when he talks to me, but I know he is watching me. “It’s just gone two. Shamus and I would only be sitting about watching a movie until we got dressed. You let me chauffeur you to your door because I know your head has to be hurting, and I promise not to bother you for a date for at least twenty-four hours. It’s no trouble at all. We have plenty of time. And who doesn’t like a drive with a beautiful woman? Now, who is this Manny you are talking about?”
I rub the dashboard lovingly. “Manny the Mini Cooper.” The corner of Tucker’s mouth curls in amusement at my answer.
“At least he’s a boy. Good call. I’m going all the way with you today, just to be clear.” He turns his head briefly, waggling his eyebrows at me.
“Nice use of sexual innuendo.Not.”
“No sidetracking. I mean what I say. You promised the doctor, and you don’t want to make a liar out of yourself and me.”
I exhale with a little more force than necessary.
Tucker knows I’m feeling pissy after he turns it around on me. Ididpromise I wouldn’t drive home.
“Manny is a cool dude to drive. However, a man of my build has to fold like a pretzel to get inside. He’s a good size for a pocket rocket to buzz about in, but these seats aren’t the most comfortable for a long drive, but he gets major points on character.” Tucker smiles, and it is the first time I notice how charming he can be. It’s sexy. Genuine. Honest. Trustworthy.
My mind is swirling about with the Tucker who threw me over his shoulder at Peace Café and the Tucker who has done everything he could to help me out even though I have not made it easy for him. He’s even toned down the cocky attitude.
“So, who is Hamlet, now that she isn’t a bounty hunter?” Way to go complimenting my car and then shifting gears to my personal life.
“Tell me who Tucker Royal is?” I challenge. “What do you do for a day job? Where do you live? What’s your favorite color? How old are you? What do you enjoy doing the most in life?” I boomerang enough questions to keep him off my back. If I keep him talking, it will pass the time quicker.
“Whoa there, Shakespeare. You are rattling off enough questions to keep me—oh, I get it.” He taps the side of his head with one finger. “Smart thinking 99. Keep me talking, so you don’t need to open up about yourself.”
I rest my elbow against the window and pretend to be interested in looking out at the passing view. “You do know calling me Shakespeare is not a new thing? Been called it most of my school life, and it didn’t bother me at school.” Not many females are named Ophelia, so the nickname “Hamlet” isn’t new to me either. I was called both of the aliases he saddled me with, primarily by my male friends and affectionately.
Tucker chuckles, dipping his head at an angle. “Touché.”
“Now spill.”
“I’d rather hear about you, but I will disclose a few things to get the ball rolling, seeing as we have some time to burn, and then it’s your turn. Deal?”Maybe.
“I am ex-military. I’m a sometimes music tutor to rich, privileged kids, depending on the time I have available and who is requesting me, and I tutor for free to a group of underprivileged kids as often as I can, and I write songs for bands and singers. I’m thirty and very single. That’s all I’m going to tell you for now. I don’t want to overpower you with my awesome.”
I roll my eyes because I can. Sunglasses hide—
“Don’t think I didn’t know you just rolled your eyes at me. But seeing as I didn’t see you do it, then I can’t teach you a lesson.”
