Page 25 of Never Say Never

“Daisy, you don’t need to apologize, but I need a minute.”

When she realizes why, her eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment. “Oh, god.”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes drop to my lap, and she swallows. Her chest sharply rises and falls. If I wasn’t so sure that I infuriate her, I would think she’s turned on by my arousal.

The room goes silent.

The air feels charged.

If I were to kiss her right now, it feels a lot like she would kiss me back.

“Oh. Hey, Tucker. When did you get here?”

Briar pads into the room, grabs her sneakers from the entryway and then drops into the chair across from us to put them on. The moment is lost, the tension between me and Daisy is gone, and what’s left of my hard-on deflates in seconds.

The drive to my parents’house is painfully quiet. In fact, Daisy has barely said two words since we left her place, and it has me worried. Is she having second thoughts?

Her gaze is fixed out the passenger window, her hands in her lap, her fingers twisting at the opal ring she’s worn on her index finger since she was a kid. Halfway into the 15-minute drive to my parents’ house, I turn up the radio in an effort to drown out the silence between us. A Morgan Wallen song floats through the speakers. We pass Daisy’s parents’ house, and I pull through the gates of the sprawling estate where I grew up. I park behind my father’s Aston Martin then round the front of the car to open Daisy’s door.

She smooths her hands over her skirt before tucking a lock of hair that’s fallen loose from her bun behind her ear. “We can stay as long as you want,” she says softly. “If you need to get out of here, just say the word.” I nod, grateful that she understands how uncomfortable I can get around my parents. With my hand at the slope of her back, I follow her inside, noticing the way her skirt clings to the curve of her hips.

Inside, Daisy’s mom is the first to greet us, embracing us both as soon as we enter into the kitchen. “My babies are here,” she coos, one hand on my shoulder, the other hand on Daisy’s. “You both look so good. How was your day?”

“Good, Aunt Vic,” I answer politely. “Nice to see you.”

“Thank you, honey. It’s good to see you, too,” she says, reaching up to cup my jaw. Aunt Vic is always happy. She’s the most upbeat and positive person I have ever met. “What a game on Friday night, Tucker. The Outlaws looked great out there. You sure made us all proud.”

“Yeah, the team played well. Thank you for being there,” I tell her, flicking my gaze around the kitchen. My mom is at the stove and my dad is sitting at the kitchen table drinking whiskey with my Uncle Randy.

“Daisy, love your skirt. Another one of your thrift store finds?” Aunt Victoria takes a step back to admire Daisy’s ruffled skirt. She’s always appreciated Daisy’s eclectic style and taste in clothing. Like her daughter, she couldn’t care less about name brands—a characteristic that I admire in both of them.

“It is. Thanks, Mom. I found it at the store I was telling you about downtown.” Daisy smiles. “Something smells good. What are you cooking up, Aunt Daisy?”

“Chicken piccata and roast potatoes,” my mom says, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she turns to face us. “Hi, you two. Come here.”

She hugs me and then embraces Daisy. “There’s beer and white wine in the fridge. Help yourselves. I need to get the potatoes out of the oven.”

“Where’s Addy and Jonathan? Are they not coming?” I ask, opening the fridge to grab a beer. I reach for the bottle of Riesling for Daisy, knowing it’s what she likes. She’ll drink one glass before switching to ice water with a lemon slice. After dinner she’ll drink a cup of camomile tea.

“She’ll be here. You know your sister, she’s always late. But Jonathan can’t make it.”

I pour a glass of wine for Daisy and hand it to her. “Thank you,” she murmurs, taking a sip. Watching Daisy swallow down the wine I poured her gives me an instant hard-on. So does the way her tongue licks a path across her bottom lip. “Take a breath, Tuck. Let’s go say hi to our dads.”

She nods in encouragement, her blues eyes sparkling. I’m captivated by her. My hands itch to touch her, or better yet, to carry her up to my old bedroom and act out one of my teenage fantasies with her. My heart thunders in my chest knowing I’ll get to have her soon.

“Maybe I should drink three of these first,” I joke, taking a swig of my beer.

“Nice try. Come on. Let’s get this over with.” She leads the way to the kitchen table, where my father’s gaze is immediately laser focused on me.

“There he is!” Uncle Randy gets up from his chair to clap me on the shoulder. “You sure were incredible out there on Friday night. What a game. You must be feeling like a king.” If I didn’t happen to glance over at my dad I would have missed the clenching of his jaw, the way his eyes narrow at the compliment.

I nod at my uncle. “The team played exceptionally. I’m glad you were there to see it.”

“Hi son.” My dad greets me, a tone of annoyance in his voice. He pushes to stand and embraces me in a stiff hug. “Your hair is looking long, time for a cut, don’t you think?”

I drag my hand through my hair, which is much shorter than the shoulder-length style I had a year ago. My fatherreallydespised that one. The passive aggressive comment pisses me off, and I let it get the best of me. “Not even going to congratulate me on my win, huh?” I ask, grinning despite the edge in my voice.

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