All of Me (28 page)

Lexi laughed.

Puzzled, Jillian canted her head. “What’s so funny?”

“I asked Tuck to take me to Thunder Mountain, because I was jealous of you dating Jefferson.”

“You like Jefferson?”

“For ages. And in the two years he’s lived on the mountain, he’s never really noticed me. Sure, he comes in here and talks
shop, but he’s never seen me as anything more than a flooring supplier. Until last night.” Her eyes sparkled.

“You don’t have a crush on Tuck?”

“No.”

“Really? I sort of thought you did.”

“He’s good-looking, sure, and very sexy but …” Lexi shook her head.

“But?”

“Tuck’s a one-woman man.”

“You mean he’ll never get over Aimee?” An emotion she couldn’t name burned Jillian’s stomach.

“I mean he’s a one-woman man,” Lexi repeated. “I’m sorry you guys had a lousy time at dinner.”

“We didn’t have a lousy time.”

“You two were fighting like cats and dogs.”

“Fighting?” Jillian suppressed a laugh. Fighting was the last thing they’d been doing. Flirting like mad and having sex with
their eyes across the table was more like it.

“Then when Jeff asked me—”

“Wait, wait, I thought he didn’t let anyone call him Jeff.”

“I told him that Jefferson was too stuffy. He looks like a big cuddly Jeff to me.”

“Ookay.” The man looked neither cuddly nor like a Jeff to Jillian, but there was no accounting for taste.

“Anyway, when Jeff asked me if I wanted to go back to his place and just let you guys fight it out, I couldn’t resist. I hope
you’re not too upset about the tab thing. It was Jefferson’s idea. And I have to admit, it felt kind of naughty.” Lexi giggled
again.

“No, no, no problem. We didn’t mind paying. Tuck and I just … we were …”

“I know.” Lexi nodded. “Embarrassed by your behavior.”

That wasn’t what she was going to say, but it would do.

“Guess what?” Lexi touched Jillian’s forearm and lowered her voice. “Jeff and I had sex until dawn. I’m worn out, but I’ve
never been happier.”

A
FTER THAT NIGHT
at Thunder Lodge, things between Tuck and Jillian shifted. Rather than avoiding each other as they had been doing, they started
spending more time together as renovations on the lake house progressed.

While they worked, they talked about all kind of things—politics, religion, celebrities, architecture, pet care, carpentry,
and law. The only topics off limits were Tuck’s marriage and Jillian’s childhood. She’d never been comfortable discussing
it. In fact, Blake was the only one who’d known the entire sordid story.

Through their discussions, Jillian and Tuck got to know each other better and found out they had a lot more in common than
they’d ever suspected. They both loved water parks and Rocky Road ice cream. They agreed George W. Bush was the worst president
ever to hold the title commander in chief and that Craig Ferguson was much funnier than Conan O’Brien. They admitted recycling
was a great thing to do, but they were both a bit lazy about it.

They discovered they shared an obsession with Court TV, and they enjoyed amateur stargazing. They had each seen
Les Miserables
on Broadway six times and realized to their surprise, that on one occasion, they’d actually been at the same theater showing.
Tuck told her stories about what it was like growing up with three older sisters, while Jillian regaled him with tales of
law school. He took her shopping for some “decent”—as he put it—winter clothing, declaring none of the things she’d brought
from Texas would hold up to a Colorado snowstorm.

Every passing evening as they painted and hammered and plastered and tiled and talked, the house slowly began to take shape.
Then on the Sunday before Thanksgiving, Tuck issued an invitation.

“Evie’s having our annual family Thanksgiving feast at her house and you’re invited,” he said as they were putting new baseboards
up in the living room.

In truth, she hadn’t thought much about the upcoming holiday or how she would spend it. Usually, she hung out with Delaney,
Tish, and Rachael, but this year, they all had their own celebrations, and she was so far away that when they’d called to
invite her, she’d turned them down.

“You can meet my entire family.”

That both pleased and intimidated her. “I don’t know … ,” she hedged.

“Come on,” he said. “It’ll be fun.”

“You really want me there?”

“Not just me,” he said. “Evie and Ridley too.”

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll come.”

Then Tuck rewarded her with a smile that lit up her heart, and she realized what a very dangerous thing that was.

T
uck had to admit he was nervous about bringing Jillian to Thanksgiving dinner. He didn’t want anyone reading anything into
the gesture, other than the fact that he and Jillian were simply roommates and good friends who enjoyed spending time together.

He’d told her about Evie’s invitation because he couldn’t stand the thought of her being alone. At least that’s what he told
himself. The truth was, he wanted her there. Wanted her with him, but he wasn’t ready to face the implications of that desire,
so he blocked it out.

But when his big family got together, he knew they could be a bit overwhelming. He and Jillian stood on Evie’s front porch.
He had Evie’s music box to give to Ridley wrapped up in newspaper. He’d held on to the box until he’d received the musical
apparatus programmed to play “Faith” that he’d ordered online. He’d installed it the day before.

Jillian had two bottles of wine tucked under her arm. Her contribution to the festivities because, as she’d told him in the
truck on the way over, she didn’t cook and who could compete with Evie on that score anyway?

Tuck leaned over to ring the doorbell.

“Wait, wait.” She placed a restraining hand on his wrist. “How do I look?”

His gaze trailed over her, and he couldn’t help but think how breathtaking she was. “Fabulous.”

“No, really.” She smoothed out the front of her burgundy dress with her palm. “The neckline isn’t too low, is it?”

“It’s perfect. They’re going to love you.”

Nervously, Jillian flicked out her tongue to moisten her lips. “How can you be so sure?”

Tuck reached out to give her forearm a comforting squeeze. “You’ve put away some of the toughest felons in Texas, Queenie.
I assure you that you can handle my family.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t worried about impressing the felons of Texas.”

“You don’t have to impress them. Just be yourself.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Go ahead. Ring the bell. I’m ready to run the
gauntlet.”

He couldn’t help but be touched that she cared so much about what his family thought of her that it affected her emotional
equilibrium. He’d never seen her looking so vulnerable. It made him want to put his arm around her waist and protect her from
any and everyone. The impulse surprised him.

“Jillian,” he whispered as he heard the door open. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Whatever happens, I’ve got your back.”

H
AD
T
UCK JUST CALLED HER SWEETHEART?

Jillian shook her head and blinked, unable to believe her ears. Why had he called her sweetheart? Had he just slipped up?
Or was there some hidden meaning to it?

But there was no time to ponder the questions. Ridley was greeting them at the door and ushering them over the threshold.
Jillian stepped inside, and immediately her senses were assaulted with the sights, smells, and sounds of a large extended
family gathered for a holiday celebration. Ridley took their coats and Jillian handed him the two bottles of Chardonnay she’d
brought.

The dining room table was laden with food. Two gigantic turkeys. An industrial-size pan filled with cornbread stuffing, along
with a serving tureen of giblet gravy. Side dishes galore—candied yams, fruit salads, vegetable casseroles, deviled eggs,
mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, yeast rolls and cranberry sauce. And on the sideboard a bounty of desserts. Chocolate
cake, peach cobbler, oatmeal cookies, and pies—apple, pumpkin, pecan, French silk, cherry, and rhubarb. There were soft drinks
and lemonade for the kids. Wine, tea, and coffee for the adults.

The air was thick with the dizzying smells of sage and roasted turkey and cinnamon and nutmeg and onions and butter and garlic.

A half-dozen kids cavorted underfoot, giggling and running and playing tag. In the living room, the television was tuned to
a college football game, and there were several men gathered around it.

Tuck took her by the elbow and introduced her. She met his father, James, who looked so much like Tuck it took her breath
away. It was like having a snapshot into his future. Apparently at sixty, Tuck was still going to be a stunningly handsome
man. She also said hello to Tuck’s other brothers-in-law, Steve and Magnus. Steve, a native New Yorker, was of stocky build
and average height, and he was as dark as Swedish-born Magnus was blond.

Next, Tuck took her to the kitchen. She shook hands with his other two sisters, Desiree and Sabrina. They looked a lot like
Evie, both slender with classic features. Tuck’s mom, Meredith, insisted on giving her a hug.

“And this is Grandmother Fairfield,” Tuck said, taking her over to meet the matriarch of the clan. “We just call her Gran.”

The minute Jillian laid eyes on the older woman, she knew this was who she had to prove herself to. She had to be in her mid-eighties,
but her eyes were still sharp even though her shoulders were stooped.

“Tuck,” Ridley said from the doorway of the kitchen. “Can I borrow you a minute to help me set up the extra table for the
kids?”

“Sure thing,” Tuck said, and then abandoned Jillian to his womenfolk. So much for having her back.

R
IDLEY FURTIVELY PULLED
T
UCK
into the garage and eyed the box nestled in the crook of his arm. “Is that it?”

“It is.”

“Hang on.” He locked the garage door so they wouldn’t be interrupted by inquisitive nieces and nephews. He couldn’t believe
how nervous he was. The fact that Tuck had taken so long over the music box heightened his anxiety. He wanted this gift to
be special. Tuck was a talented carpenter, but Ridley knew he’d never crafted anything like this before.

Tuck unwrapped the music box from the newspaper. Ridley held his breath.

“Your hands are shaking,” Tuck said.

“Hell, I know.” Ridley’s voice was gruff.

“Don’t drop it.” Tuck settled the gleaming wooden box in his hands.

Ridley just stared. It far exceeded his expectations. The craftsmanship was exquisite, but more than that, it was as if Tuck
has read his mind. Gently, he pushed his big thumb against the delicate cradle atop the music box. It swayed softly. A lump
humped up in his throat. “Dude …”

“You like it?”

“Evie’s gonna cry when she sees it.”

“Is it what you wanted?”

“Dude … ,” he said again. There was nothing else he could say. Evie was going to love the music box, and hopefully she would
understand what he was trying to tell her with it. He carefully opened the box, and the cradle rocked as it played “Faith.”

Just then, someone rapped on the garage door. “Rid? You need some help out there?”

It was Steve. Ridley unlocked the door, let him into the garage, and locked it behind him.

“What are you guys doing out here so clandestinely? Sneaking a smoke?” He looked hopeful.

“Gave it up,” Ridley said. “Supposedly it lowers your sperm count.”

“Hey, what’s that?” Steve honed in on the music box cradle.

“Evie’s Christmas present. That’s what we were doing out here.”

“That’s beautiful.” Steve reached for it. “Do you mind?”

Ridley handed it to him.

Steve traced a finger over the intricate scroll carvings. “Where’d you get it? This is first-class woodwork.”

Ridley jerked a thumb at Tuck.

Steve’s eyes met Tuck’s. “You did this?”

“I was laid up with a broken ankle.”

“This is amazing. I mean, I knew you were a talented carpenter, but damn, Tuck, you could make a mint off these.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Tuck said.

Ridley wanted to poke him and tell him not to be so modest.

“I’m serious,” Steve said. “I know a guy. Owns a gallery in SoHo. This might not be his thing, but I’m sure he can refer you
to someone who would know how to represent it.”

“Hey,” Ridley said to Tuck. “You could have a whole new career.”

“Rid, you mind if I take this back to the city with me? Show it to my guy, see if he’s interested?” Steve asked.

“You better ask Tuck if he’s interested.”

“Well?” Steve arched his eyebrows.

Tuck shrugged. “It’s Ridley’s box.”

Steve looked at Ridley again.

Ridley didn’t want to part with the box, but if Steve could help get Tuck back in the mainstream flow of life, he’d make the
sacrifice. “Just make damn sure you get it back to me safe and sound so I can give it to Evie on Christmas.”

“You guys are coming to New York for the holiday, right?”

“I don’t know.” He and Evie hadn’t cemented their Christmas plans.

“That’s what Meredith and Jim are planning. ”

“We’ll play it by ear.”

Steve slapped Tuck on the back. “Damn, man, I still can’t believe how good you are. Mark my words, my friend is going to go
ape over this. Looks like the old Manning magic is back.”

“C
AN
I
DO ANYTHING TO HELP?
” Jillian offered, feeling like the odd woman out in the kitchen filled with family members.

“You can make the poppy-seed dressing for the spinach salad,” Evie said. “The recipe and the ingredients are on top of the
microwave.”

Happy to have a chore, she moved purposefully to the microwave and started making the poppy-seed dressing, only to become
aware that Grandmother Fairfield was staring at her.

“So you’re Tuck’s roommate, huh?” the old lady asked.