Finding Forever (Living Again #4) (13 page)

“I think I’m glad that you aren’t well enough then,” Lacey said to Max. “But you do need to rest that leg, big guy. Can we move his bed over here so he can be near us, so he feels better?”

Brant shook his head in mock annoyance. “Who knew I’d have to compete against my own dog on my date,” he murmured, winking at her as he moved Max’s bed over next to the couch. Max laid down, his head on the top of Lacey’s feet. “Dinner will be here in thirty minutes. I brought you a beer, but I also have soda or water. I thought we could get to know each other a little more, you know, kind of try to forget the bad week we’ve both had.”

Lacey took the beer from his hand and took a sip, wanting nothing more at that moment than to not talk about herself.

She sat back, so full she thought she might explode. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten that much. Lacey wasn’t sure if it was the beer, the warm dog at her feet, or the intoxicating man next to her, but she had spilled more about herself in the last two hours than she thought she might’ve ever told anyone except Sam.

Brant had started, telling her about growing up a Tucker and how he had gotten into modeling and some of the trips he had taken and the things he had been featured in. He had told her about his little sisters, whom she now knew he thought the world of. He told her all about his best friend Evan and how he and his sisters had been the only ones he had turned to over the last nine years for support.

She had found herself telling him all about her childhood, and how much fun they had as a family before her mom got sick. For once, when he pressed about her mom she didn’t balk and pull back. She told him all she remembered about the days leading up to her mom’s death, what her childhood had turned into after that, and how she had gotten where she was now. She told him how her dad was a shell of a man that had nothing to do with his daughters and refused to get involved with anyone ever again, and how that affected her perception of relationships. She told him all about Sam and how their friendship had saved her on so many levels, so many times during her life. It seemed that once she started talking to him, she couldn’t stop. She had even told him about the mammogram she had just had. She couldn’t believe she had said that, but it was almost like she just had to tell someone that she was okay.

Brant laced his fingers with hers, both of them thinking quietly over what they had learned about the other in the last few hours. “Lacey,” he said, and her stomach clenched at his tone. He lifted their joined hands and pressed his warm lips to her hand. She wasn’t sure she was breathing. That was the most sensual thing she had felt in a really long time, and all he did was kiss her hand. “Thank you.”

She could barely make her mouth form words. “For?”

“Telling me all of that about you. Being here tonight. For being you. I knew I was right about you.” When she didn’t answer, he continued. “When I first saw you, I knew there was something about you that was different than most women. Now that I know a little more about what makes you the person you are, I know I was more than just right. You’re an amazingly strong woman.”

Why did she feel like crying right now? So what if that was the sweetest, most heartfelt thing she had ever heard from a man, including her own father? That didn’t mean she had to cry over it.

“Thank you,” she said, and meant it. “Thank you for trusting me, also.”

“He’s a good judge of character,” Brant joked, indicating Max. “And since he’s totally in love with you, I’m pretty sure I’m safe.”

“Is that right? Maybe he’s leading you into a trap that I’ve conspired with him to set.”

Brant looked at Max, then her. “If you have a trap for me, I’ll follow you right into it willingly.” She blinked, believing exactly what he said, and that scared her a little. Did she want that kind of power over someone?

She yawned, looking up at the clock and realizing it was getting late and she still had a half hour drive back home. “I better get going.” Max lifted his head, staring at her.

“He doesn’t like that either,” Brant said, swiping her hair off her shoulder. Just that small motion had goose bumps breaking out on her arms. She wondered if he noticed. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

Lacey’s initial reaction was to say no right out of the gate, but she found herself pausing before turning him down. What reason did she have to do that? “I’d like that, Brant.”

He smiled, standing up and pulling her to her feet, much to the chagrin of the big Rottweiler on her feet. Max put his head back on the floor, his eyes following the two of them. “Can I walk you out?”

Butterflies attacked her stomach without warning. She had practically bared her soul to this guy over the last few hours, but she was now nervous about him walking her to the car? She really needed to get a grip.

Grabbing her purse and saying goodbye to Max, she led the way out of the house and to her car. The neighborhood was well-lit, but they were still thrust into darkness together. Looking up, she saw a full moon shining brightly in the sky, stars accenting the sky like they were the runway for the moon.

“Gorgeous,” she heard Brant murmur, and she turned to look at him, thinking he was looking at the same sky she was. Except he was looking at her. The breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes. She’d seen that look before. It was when the photographer wanted him to look seductive. But he had been acting then. Was he acting now?

Backing up until she reached her car door, Brant caged her in, his legs on either side of hers. It was so quiet out here that she swore he had to hear her heart thrumming like a hummingbird.

Before she knew it, he closed the remaining distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. As soon as the velvety goodness that was him touched her, she fought not to whimper. He was so warm, so soft. His hands cupped the sides of her face as he pulled slightly away, his eyes watching hers in the moonlight before he moved in and kissed her again. He didn’t try to open her mouth, or go any further than just lips on lips, but she never wanted it to end. It had to be the sexiest first kiss she had ever been given, yet the simplest.

“Goodnight, Lacey,” he whispered against her lips. “Sweet dreams.” She knew that her dreams would be very sweet tonight.

Brant sat at the island in his kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee and bagel. He knew the coffee was cold, since he had been sitting here so long thinking about her that he hadn’t touched it. His sleep had been riddled with dreams about a dark haired, blue-eyed doctor that had taken residence in his heart, and he had woken up with the urge to call her just to hear her voice. But that had been at five in the morning, and he figured she wouldn’t have appreciated that.

He hadn’t been sure, when he had seen her again, that she was going to let him in. The look he had seen in her eyes when they had been at the deli last week he had seen again at the shoot yesterday. It was doubt. And he knew she was scared, for many good reasons. He wished he could smack her dad for what he had done to that little girl. She had been twelve years old, and he had basically deserted her and her sister. So he had been there financially; he had never been there emotionally for them. She had told him that even the day he had met her, she had called her dad and he didn’t answer. He didn’t even wish his own daughter a happy birthday. How could he expect her to understand relationships if her own father hadn’t shown her what it was like to be loved? He could definitely understand issues with fathers, but at least he had his mother when he was a kid to be there for him emotionally.

Talking to Sam had helped him understand her more, also. She was a great friend to her, and he was glad that she had always been a part of Lacey’s life. Sam and Lacey’s sister Aubrey had really been the only ones that had kept Lacey sane the last fourteen years.

He thought of his own dad, lying in the hospital bed recovering from two life threatening ailments. He wished things could be different with them, and it wasn’t for lack of Brant trying over the years. But unless he decided that he was going to take over the ranch and do what his father wanted, he would never be a day to day part of his life. But he was going to show his father that despite his refusal to accept him, he was there for him and wanted to see him get better.

Sighing, he stood, dumping the cold coffee and partial bagel. Time to get to the hospital and see his family. At least Heather and Brooke would be there. Without them, being around his parents was virtually impossible.

“Come on, Max, let’s go outside,” he called. Max stood up slowly, making his way for the back door. He looked back at Brant, then towards the front door, then back at Brant. “You’re looking for her, aren’t you? She’s not here. Maybe I can convince her to come back later, you dirty dog you.” Max just walked out the back door to do his business, leaving Brant wondering just what was happening to both his and Max’s hearts.

Brant stepped off the elevator, mentally steeling himself for spending the next few hours in this hospital. He had texted Lacey right before he walked in, hoping that she would still want to see him today. He needed something to look forward to.

“Brant,” he heard. He turned to see his sisters sitting in the waiting room, where it seemed all of them had spent the last week. They at least were wearing different clothes and looked like they might’ve slept more than just in chairs.

“Any change?”

“Mom’s in with him now, with the doctor. I guess he’s awake. They’re worried about fluid in his lungs or something.”

Brant hadn’t seen his dad once while he was awake, because he hadn’t been coherent that often and two his mom usually was the one in there if he was. It wasn’t like he wanted to see Brant, anyway.

His mom appeared in the hallway behind him, looking exhausted. They had all tried to get her to go home and sleep, but in true Jane Tucker fashion, there was no taking care of herself when her husband needed her.

“Brant, I’m glad you’re here. Your dad is asking for you.”

She couldn’t have shocked him more if she had said that the President of the United States wanted to talk to him. “What? Is he lucid?”

“Brantley Tucker,” she scolded. “Your dad loves you. He’s seen enough of me, and he’s talked to the girls. He hasn’t seen you while he’s awake, and he wants to talk to you.”

A pit of dread settled in his stomach. Why in the hell did he want to talk to him? He should’ve stayed in bed today. Or better yet, he should’ve gone and picked up Lacey and done something fun instead. Anything but being here. But he would be the dutiful son, like always, and go in and see what his dad had to say.

The walk down the hallway to his ICU room didn’t take long enough for Brant to be ready. The automatic door swished open, and he saw his dad’s eyes looking directly through him. No one else was around. Lucky him.

“Dad, it’s so great to see you awake,” Brant bullshitted. “How are you feeling?”

The tubes, bandages, and IV’s didn’t make him any less intimidating. In fact, it might’ve made him more so.

“I almost died, son. So I guess I feel like death,” he bit out, his voice low and raspy because of the tubes that had been down his throat to save his life. Well, there it was. Near death hadn’t changed his wonderful personality.