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“Something on your mind?”
“Lots of things. Seriously, Maren?—”
“Seriously, Tuck.” I glance up at him. “Let me help.”
That muscle in his jaw tics again. My body pulses at his nearness. The way his hair is a little disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it.
What’s bothering him?
And why am I suddenly so interested in what’s going on inside his head? Maybe this is just my overtaxed brain. It’s sick of studying, so it’s latching onto something—anything—other than complex behavioral systems in a postindustrial society.
Or maybe this is my dry spell taking its toll. The last relationship I had ended a year ago. While I’m not opposed to casual sex, I haven’t loved it with the two guys I’ve been with since.
Lest we forget, Tuck is the first man to ever make me a meal. He’s also an incredible dad and—yes—indecently, insanely hot.
He’s also my new boss at a job I really, really need right now.
Also, he’smucholder than I am. A decade at least.
If I want a hookup, I need to look elsewhere.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun with him. I have a feeling he and I could both use a little levity right now. Keeping my eyes glued to his, I pick up the last large piece of mug I saw by my foot and drop it into my palm.
His nostrils flare. “You don’t fucking listen, do you?”
“Please. My piggies are just fine.” I wiggle my toes before I straighten, careful not to spill the pieces I’m holding.
“Gimme.” Tuck holds out his hand. I drop the pieces into it, which he dumps into the trash can by the sink. “I’ll sweep, then vacuum. Don’t.Move.”
A shiver darts up my spine at the authoritative edge in his voice. My nipples are rock-hard. “You said you were in the Navy. Were you an officer?”
He doesn’t look at me as he sweeps. “Petty Officer first class, yes.”
“I can tell. How many sailors did you have under your command?”
“A lot.” He empties the dust tray into the trash. “And they listened.”
“You miss it, then.”
He grabs the vacuum. “Sometimes.”
“Is that why you can’t sleep?”
His gaze locks on mine. “No. That’s not why I can’t sleep tonight.”
The hard, hot look in his eyes sends a full-body shiver through me. It’s crazy to think he’s talking about me, right?
It’s absolutely ridiculous to think I’m the reason he’s tearing out his hair.
He does a thorough job of vacuuming the floor, moving his Dyson in precise lines over the hardwoods.
When he’s done and it’s safe for me to move, I walk to the coffee machine. “You made me a cocktail. Let me make you a cup of coffee.”
He blinks. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Welp, I’m not.” I hesitate when I look at all the buttons on the machine. Do I want regular coffee? Espresso? Cappuccino? Does this thing really make all of the above?
“Your turn to let me help.” Tuck comes to stand beside me. My body does that thing again where it pulses, a head-to-toe rush of blood that pools between my legs. “I made you regular coffee earlier. Want the same thing?”
