Make a Right (24 page)

She set her jaw. “Yes.” Then, sheepishly, “Barely.”

Tuck licked his spoon clean and took up another one to coax the batter into their molds. “Cutting it kind of close.”

Megan collapsed back into her seat with a sigh. “Yeah. We had this whole romantic idea about… You know. Finishing everything at once, all the loose ends tied up in a bow before we moved on to the next stage of our lives and all that.”

Tuck thought about houses and made an “mmm” noise. “Romantic. Which means it was Hannah’s idea.”

“No.” Megan shut the book she’d just opened. “Mine. Except I didn’t think that while I was working so hard on this idea, this concept, that I wouldn’t be there when she needed me in the real world. Give me a sandwich before I slide into total pathetic pathos, would you?”

Tuck shrugged. No real reason not to. He passed her a pastrami on rye. “You regret that choice? The dissertation, I mean.”

“Yes and no.” She took a bite. “God, this is good. I’m glad it’s getting done. It needs to be done. But I wish I’d been here for her instead. That make any sense?”

Tuck looked out the kitchen window that gave him a good view of the yard. Of Cade and Hannah and—Thomas—screwing around with poles and winding strands of icicle lights around them. They’d put up a canvas tent top. Not what he’d wanted, but…it’d work better.

Working better, yeah. The blues deepened from azure to a deeper indigo. He and Cade kept trying. Sure. And Cade
said
, but—and Thomas was—

Would
Cade be better off with someone he didn’t have to climb uphill and backward for just to find some common ground between them?

Could Thomas love Cade better than Tuck did?

Was he being fucking selfish? He knew his man. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to see this before.

“Tuck?” Megan rapped the table. No fool she, she’d noticed what he was looking at and left her sandwich behind to join him at the window. “You need some reassurance?”

“Ehh…” Tuck stalled.

“Don’t be a dumb-ass,” she said.

“If that’s your brand of reassurance, I’m gonna suggest going back to school for a refresher course.”

Tuck didn’t mean to take a second look out the window, and he sure wished he hadn’t when he saw Cade, chuckling, flick a spray of rich dark dirt at Thomas, who shook it out of his hair and kept on keeping on.

He didn’t mean to think this, either, but here it came whether or not he “wanted.”

Megan pinched him. “I’m not totally lost in books. I can see the forest for the trees. He’s as gone on you as you are on him. But you’re guys. Ergo, you’re both morons sometimes.”

Tuck doubted she didn’t know. Seemed like he’d been the only one ignorant all these years. “Thomas too?”

“Thomas too,” Megan proved his point by saying. She propped her chin on her hand. “I was only a kid when all that went down, and who did Cade end up with? So stick that up your ass and smoke it.”

Tuck laughed, loud and long. “Don’t ever change, brat.”

“Not likely.” She bent over her books again, sandwich forgotten but content with a few nibbles to tide her over while she worked.

Until, that was—

Crack!

“Fuck
me
.” Tuck checked to make sure he hadn’t jumped out of his skin, and he wasn’t the only one gone briefly wide-eyed with shock. “What was that?”

Cre-a-a-k.

“Oh no.” Megan scattered a shower of pencils and papers in her hurry to bolt outside. “The pavilion!”

Fuck
! Tuck turned the stove and oven off as fast as he could,
click-click-click
, and ran like the cops were after him.

Outside, both women and both men each had a corner of the pavilion. Megan swore fit to make Tuck as proud of her as he was of Hannah, gritting her teeth and putting her back into it. One of the support poles had given way right through the middle, bowed out like a broken leg and threatening to take the other three down with it.

“Holy fuck, this is heavier than it looks,” Megan gasped. “Tuck, help!”

Cre-e-e-a-k.

Goddamnit. Too late. Tuck put his hands to each side of his mouth and shouted, “
Move
! Let it the fuck go and
move
!”

Four glances shot back and forth in a crazed diagonal. Thomas was the first to bolt for it, the girls second, and after one last strain of his back, Cade last.

The pavilion collapsed in a slapping billow of canvas and crunch of broken poles. Tuck covered his eyes and groaned. No way they’d be able to make a new one in time. It’d have to be a fucking Megamart tent after all.

Figured.

Tuck shook his head and turned to go, already reaching for his keys. More shopping to do, huzzah. After he made sure the food wouldn’t spoil. Man, Cade would be the only person ever worth going through this for again.

Wrapped up in—well, wrapping things up, foil crinkling and plastic bags snapping, Tuck didn’t hear Cade approaching, but when Cade touched him, it stopped him in his tracks. “What?”

Cade shook his head. “They’ve got this. Thomas has.”

“But—”

“But nothing.”

“He volunteered?”

“I volunteered him,” Cade said. “He was the one who dug the hole too deep for his side to balance.”

Tuck figured he oughtn’t to be as pleased with that as he was, but he never claimed to be perfect.

“Don’t smirk.”

Eh. Cade knew him as well as he knew Cade.

And today Cade didn’t seem to mind much. He had that edge of uneasiness, still, and something wary in his eyes when he spoke of Thomas and responsibility, but there he stood. With Tuck, like Megan had said.

A man had to have hope…

Tuck wiped his hands on his hips, leaving floury fingerprints behind, and grimaced. Then again: idea. “You want to help me instead?”

“Yes and no. Will the food wait?”

“For a while,” Tuck said, curious and suspicious in equal parts. “Why?”

Cade was bad, bad, bad at pretending innocence, and they both knew it. Cracked the ice nice and proper when he blushed, and when he shook it off with a smile meant for Tuck alone. “There’s something else we should do,” he said. “Promises to keep.”

“Huh?”

Cade took his hand. “Come and see.”

Fair was fair, and in a good cause—which Tuck began to think this might be—he didn’t mind having his words turned around on him. He let Cade lead him by the hand, Cade taking them now where he wanted to go.

Because it was Cade, and where Cade led, Tuck followed. Always.

Chapter Nineteen

The cool dimness that increased the farther one walked into the front part of the house made midmorning edging toward noon seem more like twilight. Tuck could almost imagine a handful of stars making their appearance in the sky beneath a waxing moon.

Or he would have if he hadn’t been distracted by something even better. The parlor, cleaned and waxed, dust freshly swept away once again, and in the corner…

“A Victrola.”

“Not quite. Just built to look like one.” Cade stroked the machine’s side. “Do you like it?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Copied from a classic or not, the record player wasn’t
new
by any stretch of the imagination. Equally aged records were piled in a stack by its side. Tuck handled them with care and not a little awe. “Where did you find these?”

“I didn’t pick up a second job to buy them,” Cade said.

Tuck eyed him, wary. Was that a jab?

Probably not. Hopefully not. If it was, he let it go fast enough. Doubtful Cade even thought about how the offhand comment sounded.

Christ, he was paranoid this morning.

The records showed signs of long storage, anyway. Cade blew a dandelion cloud of dust off the topmost album. “All of this was in the attic. They belong to the good professor. Don’t worry, I asked Hannah for permission first.”

“And?”

“She said what the professor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.”

“And?”

“That she’d take it out of my hide if we broke the thing,” Cade admitted.

Tuck laughed. “That I can believe.”

Cade rubbed the back of his neck, visibly sheepish. Fucking adorable. “You mentioned thinking a room like this needed a Victrola to match. This is as close as I could get. And that,” he added, waving at the record. “Except I’ve got no idea how to make it go.”

“Guess what?”

Cade offered him the record, looking pleased and not a little satisfied, as if he’d been sure. “You do?”

“No.” Tuck blew and brushed more dust off the player. “But I can figure it out.”

In honesty, Cade’s quiet laughter was all the music Tuck needed to hear, but he did the job he’d promised himself to all the same.

The Victrola wasn’t too hard to figure out, not when all the pieces were still there and fitted into place if a guy took the time to be sure where they should go. Still, Tuck held his breath waiting for the needle to touch down and for the song to start.

He heard scratching sounds. Crackles of static. Then: music. Rough with static and with an odd reverberation as if heard from a distance, but it fit this room just perfect.

“We promised them a dance,” Cade said. “We could practice, if you want to.”

“I want,” Tuck said. Cade’s touch was gentle, guiding him into place. If Tuck shut his eyes, it would be like old times or better than. Like nothing had ever gone wrong at all.

Cade always had been a good dancer. He tapped Tuck’s shoulder to catch the rhythm and guided him onto the floor.
Step-slide-step, step-slide-step…

It didn’t stop there. Cade’s fingertips lingered beneath Tuck’s chin. He stroked, featherlight, teasing a pattern across skin and pulse point.
Step-slide-step…

“Is this what you showed me before?”

“It was in reverse before, on purpose.” Cade took a step back, bringing Tuck with him. “You and I will both be leading. That means switching from lead to follow until we get it right. With me now. Do what I did. Slow is okay until it comes naturally.”

Funny how much faster that happened this time. Tuck split his time between watching Cade and his feet, one ear cocked to follow the beat and one to the sound of Cade’s breathing.

“Not bad,” Cade said, sounding honestly impressed.

“Better than last time?”

“And then some,” Cade said, turning Tuck in a circle.

“Not breaking toes is about all I’m shooting for,” Tuck admitted. “You can take the spotlight off me.” An idea hit him. “What about dipping?”

“Walk before you can fly,” Cade said.

“They’ll be expecting that too.”

“It’s a wedding waltz, not a tango.”

“Yeah, but it’s got style.” Tuck assayed to slide his arm around Cade’s waist. The tips of his ears grew warm, but he didn’t let that stop him. “Do you know how?”

Cade nodded.

“Show me? C’mon. You won’t drop me.”

Cade moved as if to stop Tuck, then stopped himself. “You’re that sure of me?”

There were big and wordy answers Tuck could have brought to the table. In the end, he went with the simplest. “I trust you.”

Why Cade shut his eyes and pressed their foreheads together then, Tuck didn’t know. Wasn’t sure he liked it, but there was no time to ask. Cade braced him between the shoulder blades and began to bend forward, tipping Tuck back. “Then hook your leg around mine,” he said, no louder than a whisper but clear enough. “Don’t let go.”

Tuck closed his eyes as the world went upside-down and sideways. He laughed out loud; he couldn’t help himself. This was half like falling, half like flying. Who cared about playing the girl’s part if it made your man feel like a real man?

And Cade did; Tuck could tell. He could feel Cade’s warmth growing, the embers inside him that beat out anything anyone else could offer. All Tuck ever wanted. More than.

Family. Love. “You,” he whispered as Cade brought him upright and rested him on his feet. He could feel Cade’s breath warm on his lips, and the need to yield to temptation emanating from him. “God, I love you.”

He didn’t open his eyes. He knew where Cade was and what Cade wanted. They’d kissed a thousand times before; they’d kissed a couple dozen in this house. He’d been kissed before he met Cade.

This was different in ways Tuck couldn’t explain and didn’t want to poke at lest the bubble pop.

Different. Cade’s lips brushed his, soft and sure, once and again, holding Tuck’s face in his hands and Tuck holding him by the arms. Linked.

Tuck understood, finally. This was the way a real kiss should be.

I love you. I want you
. He ached with the need to close that distance between them, take Cade by the nape, and draw the man down to kiss him properly. Slow, deep, and then easy again, saying with his lips what words would have shaped clumsily. His skin tingled with the craving to line their bodies up and lean against him, be leaned into, for the warmth of skin against skin.

Cade’s skin was soft and smooth beneath his palm, warmer than he’d thought it would be. Taut over his slim stomach when Tuck slid up the hem of Cade’s sun-warmed T-shirt and followed that with a press of his lips just beneath Cade’s ribs.

Slim fingers stroked the top of Tuck’s head, sliding through his hair, Cade moving with hesitant awkwardness. “Tuck…”

“Tell me I can?” Tuck asked. Though feeling abruptly ungainly, he maneuvered Cade off the cleared practice area, toward the couches and such aligned against the farthest wall. “Can I?”

The skin on Cade’s cheek was rough with a shadow of stubble, faint sandpaper that rasped the backs of Tuck’s fingers when he traced over lips and nose, and a pulse thudded beneath his thumb as he stroked the sharp angle of Cade’s cheekbone.

His lips were sweet when Tuck fitted their mouths together. Pressed chest to chest, Tuck could feel the thundering of Cade’s heart that matched the speed of his own. The silence that blanketed them was only broken by whispers of rushing breath, hushed sighs, and the smooth waves of body beneath him, washing like the ocean and carrying them away…

“Can I trust you?” Cade murmured, each word a small kiss.

“You used to love
Romeo and Juliet
. I used to tell you I didn’t, because Romeo wasn’t that bright,” Tuck said. “I’m trying to be a man you can trust.”