Page 42 of Coming Home Country
“Must’ve been sleepwalking. Honestly, I have no recollection of how I ended up outside the tent, let alone how I found myself curled up on Tucker’s chest.”
When her blue eyes narrowed into thin slits, I decided to put her out of her misery.
“It’s not as exciting of a story as you’re probably hoping for, Aspen. I couldn’t sleep, so I snuck out for some fresh air. Tucker was still awake, hanging out near the fire.” I blew out a heavy breath. “And I don’t know. Maybe it was nostalgia, but when he offered the comfort of his arms, I couldn’t say no. Giving up the fight felt too good, and before I knew it, I was passed out.”
“So, what does this mean? Are you willing to give him another chance?” she pressed.
I let out a frustrated groan. “Honestly, I don’t know. As much as I wish I could wipe the slate clean, it’s not that easy. I’m still harboring a lot of hurt.”
“That’s fair.” Aspen nodded slowly. “But he’s still your person.”
Damn, she knew me too well.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “He is.”
Tucker Grant held the key to my heart. That had never changed.
Now, all that was left to decide was whether to let him keep it or demand he return it.
Chapter 11
Tucker
Iwaswalkingonair.
Getting Bex to agree to have lunch with me after being able to hold her all night was like hitting the lottery. The crack in the door pushed wider with each interaction we shared. I was determined to blow it wide fucking open, to reclaim what had always been mine.
Since we’d already hit up the Range during the scavenger hunt, we decided to go a little more casual and meet up at Canyon Comforts, the town’s diner, after both of us had the opportunity to shower and change.
Every second I spent apart from Bex, I found it harder to breathe. I was desperate to get back to her, so when I walked out my front door, of course, I discovered my truck had a flat tire. Shooting off a quick text that I was running behind and sending a picture as to the reason why, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.
Thirty minutes later, I was cruising down Main Street, searching for a parking spot. I found one, but there was an SUV parked diagonally across a space long enough to fit two cars. The luxury brand stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the weathered pickup trucks lining the street. A blondman stood nearby on the sidewalk, dressed in a button-down and black slacks, tapping away on his phone. It wasn’t much of a leap to determine that he was the culprit of the inconsiderate park job.
Turning on my blinkers, I put my truck in park before hopping out and approaching the stranger.
“Not from around here?”
The man’s head whipped up as he pocketed his phone. “Is it that obvious?”
Offering him a kind smile—having been taught from my mama that you caught more flies with honey than vinegar—I replied, “Not at all. It’s just that us locals tend to know everyone by name, and I haven’t had the pleasure.”
Extending a hand, I introduced myself, “Tucker Grant.”
He met me halfway, and we shook. “Aaron Bishop.”
“In town for the wedding?” I ventured a guess based on his expensive clothing and the high-end car he was driving.
Mac had mentioned that no one from his side planned to make the trip down for the event, but maybe there was a last-minute change. This guy certainly fit the bill for someone who ran with billionaires.
“I am, actually,” Aaron confirmed. “I was just trying to get ahold of—”
“Aaron?” The surprised voice from behind me was one I knew all too well, and a sense of foreboding tightened around my chest like a boa constrictor. I wasn’t stupid. There could only be one reason she was on a first-name basis with this stranger.
When I turned around, her eyes were wide, volleying between me and the man set behind me, guilt swimming in their brown depths. That was all the confirmation I needed.
Aaron was Bex’s new man—my competition.
Swallowing so hard that her throat muscles rippled, she addressed her boyfriend, “I thought you weren’t getting in until later tonight.”
