Page 12 of Tucker
We’vehad a very warm autumn, but according to the local weather report, that’s aboutto change. I guess it’s time to break out my hoodies and fuzzy socks becauseit’s going to get cold. I wonder if Tucker will work more in his workshopinstead of the yard once it’s chilly. That’d be a shame. I’ve grown fond ofwatching him in the afternoons.
I’lljust have to find another way to entertain myself.
* * * *
“Whatthe hell are you doing?”
Tucker’sirate voice pulls me from a daydream and I glare down at him. “Thinking.”
“Thinking,”he states, running a hand through his hair. He always does that when he’sfrustrated with me, which seems to be about twice a day. “And you have to climba damn tree to think?”
Agrin breaks over my face as I look around again. I am pretty high up, but onceI saw how perfectly arranged the branches are on this tree, I couldn’t helpmyself. It’s gorgeous up here.
“It’speaceful.”
“Getyour ass down here.”
Yeah,there’s no way I’m coming down now. “Or what?” I taunt.
“Seriously?Are you twelve? You’re going to fall and hurt yourself, then Dare is going todismember me and bury me on my own property.”
“Iwon’t fall,” I scoff. The wind picks up, rattling the branches and chilling myskin.
“Leah.”His voice bears a warning.
“Fine.I’m coming down because I need a sweater, not because you’re channeling Derek.”
Muttering,he shakes his head and watches as I climb down the tree. Before I can make thelast little hop to the ground, he grabs my waist and lowers me, placing me onmy feet. “I swear, you’re like a toddler. I can’t take my eye off of you for asecond.”
Ignoringhis little tantrum, I run my hand over the bark, glancing at the tree beside itas well. “You know what would be great out here? A hammock. Why don’t you havea hammock?”
Startingback toward the house, he replies, “Because I work. I don’t lie around or scaletrees like a kid.”
“Youshould lighten up and try to have more fun. Really, what do you do for fun?I’ll bet you can’t name one thing.”
Hetakes a seat on the picnic table and I sit across from him. He’s quiet for solong I think he’s gone back to pretending I don’t exist when he says, “Pool.”
“Youswim?” I ask. I’ve never seen him go swimming anywhere.
“No,pool, billiards. I like to play pool.”
“Oh,I like it too. Our common room at school had a pool table.”
“Ihave one in the garage,” he admits.
Leapingto my feet, I grin at him. “Well, come on. Show me what you got.”
“Areyou always this impulsive?”
“Areyou always this moody? You need to plan ahead to play a game at your own house?Should I schedule it for Thursday, maybe?” I tease.
Hislips twitch, despite his best efforts not to smile. “Fine. I’ll teach you alesson.”
“Likeyou did when we ran?” I suddenly remember he wanted a rematch. “Are we stillrunning tonight?”
Thistime a chuckle does escape as we head toward the garage. “One thing at a time,kid. I swear you’re exhausting.”
“Nah,you’re just getting old.”
