Page 9 of Tucker
AfterI see her disappear through the automatic doors, I walk down to Keith’sFurniture. “Tucker!” Mona calls. “Thought we’d seen the back of you until spring.”
Monatook over the business years ago after her husband Keith died. She’s blunt,brash, and a smart ass. I liked her from the beginning. “Change of plans. Youstill have orders for me?”
“Dostrippers have tits? Course I do.”
Chuckling,I approach the counter. “My buddy Justus strips and he doesn’t have tits.”
Monacackles. “Yeah? Bring his fine little ass in here sometime.” I may have failedto mention Mona is pushing seventy.
“I’lldo that.”
Shehands me a few order slips. “People really love those porch gliders. I may haveto buy one myself.”
Iadd another glider to my mental checklist. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ll be intouch when I’m ready to deliver.”
“Whowas that pretty little thing in your truck? You finally settle down with awoman?”
“Justbabysitting for a friend.”
“Didn’tlook like no baby to me.”
Shakingmy head, I make my way toward the door. “Compared to me she is. Thanks, Mona.”
“You’rewelcome, tell that baby I said hi.” She winks and turns back to her work.
Throughthe supermarket window, I can see Leah talking and laughing with the young manringing up her groceries. When she walks away, pushing the cart, his eyesfollow her all the way to the door and she’s completely oblivious. My bloodheats at the thought of how many guys must eye fuck her without her knowledge.
Shemust get hit on constantly. I’m suddenly glad she came with me instead of onher own. What if the asshole followed her out to her car? Harassed her orsomething? Has Dare taught her how to be careful and watch her surroundings?
Blondhair whips around her face as she approaches me with the cart. “Is it okay if Ijust throw them in the back?”
“I’llget it,” I reply, and she shrugs, watching as I shift the bags into the bed ofthe pickup. Before I can do it, she grabs the cart and returns it to thecorral.
“So,”she chirps, hopping into the truck. “Where do you want to eat?”
Damn.I did say I’d grab something in town, but that wasn’t a dinner invitation.“Have you tried that little Mexican place? I love tacos,” she goes on. “But ifyou’d rather have—
“Tacosare good.” I park at the small restaurant, and she hops out of the truck again.
“Areyou laughing at me?” she asks, noticing the smirk on my face. I can’t help it.She’s like a sugared up toddler.
“Justadmiring your energy level,” I tease. “Come on, kid.”
“I’mnot a kid!”
“Uh-huh.”Seconds after we’re seated in a booth, a waitress takes our order, and we’releft alone. I try to ignore the awkward silence by playing with my phone, butshe’s having none of it.
“So,you work for Striking Back now?” she asks, sitting back and sipping her drink.
“Sometimes.When they need me.”
“Andyou build stuff?”
“Yep.”Still looking at my phone, and not really paying attention.
“Andwhore yourself out on the weekends?”
“Uh-hu—what?”My head jerks up, and she dissolves into giggles.
