Page 7 of Tucker
Crossingher thin arms, she leans back against the counter. “Neither am I.”
“Uh-huh.”I grab a drink and sit at the table. There’s no point in arguing when I knowhow this is going to go. Spooning a helping of lasagna onto each of our plates,I remark, “So, would you like me to call Dare or do you want the honor?”
Ithink Dare trusts me as much as can be expected since we aren’t really close,but he’s seriously overprotective when it comes to Leah. There’s no way he’llbe cool with her living here with me for six months. I’m sorry to screw up herplans, but I have bigger things to worry about. This should sort itself out.
Mumblingsomething I’m sure isn’t complimentary, she drops into the seat across from meand takes a bite of her dinner. “In case you haven’t noticed I’m overtwenty-one and I couldn’t give two dry fucks what Derek has to say.”
“Uh-huh,”I repeat, wolfing down the food. We eat in silence for a few minutes until Iget to my feet. “You’re a good cook. Thanks.”
“I’lldo the cooking as a thank you.”
“Uh-huh.”
Huffing,she shoves her plate into the dishwasher. “Is that all you can say?”
Herplump lips press together in agitation and it’s too fucking cute. Leah isusually so upbeat and smiling. I’ve never seen her really pissed off.
“Ithink that covers it.”
Leavingher fuming in the kitchen, I walk out to my workshop and call Dare. “Hey man.I’m sorry, but there’s been a change of plans. I’m not leaving town after all.”
Darelaughs. “Leah is going to skin you alive.”
“Ibelieve she’s already plotting it.”
“Tellher we’ll come help her pack up in a few hours.”
“Yeah,you might want to run that by her yourself. I’ve been informed you aren’t herboss and she’s staying.”
There’sa moment of silence before Dare replies. “She wants to stay there…with you?”
“Apparently.”
“Andyou said it was okay?”
“No,I told her to call you or I would.”
Daresighs. “I’ll be by in an hour or so.”
Callme a chicken shit, but I have no intention of going back inside and arguingwith Leah. When she realizes she has to go, she might start crying and that’sone thing I’m not equipped to deal with. Give me an enemy to fight, a target toshoot, something to fix or build, and I’m in my element. Crying women…no clue.And I already feel helpless enough today after the news I’ve received.
Onething I’ve learned over the years is there are some bad things you can’tprepare for, no matter how far in advance your warning is. Some problems can’tbe solved. Some changes can’t be fought, only accepted, and the road toacceptance is a damned obstacle course of anger, fear, and despair.
Igrab some sandpaper from my workshop and head outside where a nearly finishedpicnic table waits. Working with my hands always takes my mind off of things,and before long the repetitive rasping of sandpaper on wood calms my brain. I’madmiring my work, trying to decide whether I should stain it tonight or waituntil morning when Dare pulls in. Tonight it is.
Igive him a wave as he heads inside, and he flips me off. Fair enough. I don’tenvy him at the moment. That’s one upside of not having family or getting tooclose to people; there’s no drama to deal with. Nobody else’s problems tostress over when I have plenty of my own.
Bythe time I have the table stained and moved under the carport awning for thenight, Dare re-emerges, a grim expression on his face.
“Goodluck, buddy!” he calls, heading to his car.
Wait.What? I catch up with him just as he climbs inside, and he shakes his head.“She’s stubborn as fuck. Short of carrying her out over my shoulder, I don’tknow what the hell to do with her. Looks like you have a roommate for thewinter.” His eyes narrow. “Do I need to remind you she’s my baby sister, whohas been…victimized in the past?”
Fuckfuck fuck. “Of course not, but what am I supposed to do with her?”
“Mysuggestion would be to stop showering, stink up the house, and play countrymusic all the time. Send her running,” Dare laughs.
“Shit’snot funny,” I grumble.
