Roustabout (The Traveling #3) (42 page)

I could see that Kes was impatient to get going, too.

“Look after yourself, sis,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “Let me know if anyone needs his ass kicking, ‘cause I’m the man for the job,” and he shot a hard look at Tucker, who just grinned at him.

Aimee quietly offered her own highly individual advice for keeping Tucker in line, which made me laugh and made both the guys frown as they wondered what was being said.

I hugged her, agreeing that we’d visit over New Year’s. Then I bent down to kiss Ollo on the cheek.

“You’re family, Tera Hawkins,” he said sincerely. “Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

His words made me misty eyed and I felt a tightness creep into my throat.

Tucker knelt down and hugged the little man, nodding at something Ollo whispered to him. Then Tucker held Bo in one arm as he helped Ollo into the RV, situating Bo on the bench seat. Then Aimee and Kes jumped in, and the massive engine started with a rumble.

Finally, Tucker and I turned and waved as the RV bounced across the ground, small dust clouds churning up beneath the huge tires. Tucker watched until they were out of sight, a slight frown on his face.

“Are you sorry you’re not going with them?” I asked tentatively.

Tucker gave a small smile and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his forehead against mine.

“My home is where you are, sugar. I don’t have any regrets about that.”

My man. My beautiful man with his rough hands and loving heart. My man was a roamer, a roustabout.

And he was staying here with me.

Tucker

I’d never lived in a house that had bricks before.

Tera’s new place was the top floor of an old colonial that had been divided into apartments. It had a yard with flowers and a white picket fence.

A picket fence.

I think having the Duke parked outside might have spoiled the homey image, but I was good with that—so was Tera.

No one knows what shit life is going to throw at them, except maybe spooky ole fortunetellers like Madame Sylva. You don’t know when you’ll meet someone and suddenly you’re traveling in a different direction. It could be today, tomorrow. It might even have been yesterday and you just don’t know it yet. Like me and Tera.

With everything that had happened between us, from those early, stolen kisses to the moment I admitted that I loved her and everything in between and since, I learned one important fact: it’s okay not to have all the answers.

There was nothing about us that matched: she was from money, and I’d grown up dirt poor; she had a Master’s degree and I was a high school dropout; she was a vegetarian and I liked burgers and steaks; she liked having manicures and girly shit, and I had motor oil under my nails. Hell, the woman even voted Republican—we had nothing in common, except Kes, I guess. She didn’t even love the carnival the way we did. There was nothing about Tera and me that should have worked, but somehow, we did. We just fit.

Being with her was a giant slice of happiness—that woman was my own starlight, someone who could brighten the darkest night. How did a penniless roustabout get to be so damn lucky? Time was precious. Life was precious. I wanted both with Tera.

She loved me and she held my heart. There would be times when there were miles between us and the hours would pass slowly. There would be bumps in the road and sometimes we’d lose our way, but always, always, I’d find my way back to her, my pole star shining in the dark.

Everything else? All the problems that life would throw at us? We’d figure it out along the way. Somehow.

Together.

THE END

I was born on the 13
th
which explains a few things. I love the ocean, dogs of all shapes and sizes and chocolate of all shapes and sizes.

When I’m not in my writing cave, I can be found at the beach, watching surfers.

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To my stellar editors Kirsten Olsen and Trina Miciotta, and cover designer Hang Le—my wonderful power of three.

To Mary Dunne for saying, ‘Hey, what if Tucker and Kes’s sister got together? That would make a great story!’

To the real Tera Chastain, for letting me take her name in vain. But ya know, she got to sleep with Tucker!

To the real Jade who has the same beautiful black hair, but isn't a man-stealing skank at all!

To all the bloggers, so many of you, who have supported me for the last three years.

Thank you Stalking Angels. You know how much you mean to me and you never let me down.

Sheena Lumsden, Audrey Thunder, Tonya Bass Allen, Lisa Sylva, Tera Chastain, Mary Dunne, Nikki Costello, Ashley Jones, Kelly Findlay, Sarah Lintott, Lisa Smith Reid, Lily Maverick Wallis, Andrea Flaks, Kelsey Burns, Celia Ottway, Rhonda Koppenhaver, Caroline Yamashita, Lelyana Taufik, Aime Metzner, Nancy Saunders Meyhoefer, Helen Remy Grey, Heidi Keil, Bruninha Mazzali, Kirsten Papi, Gina Sanders, Gabri Canova, Melissa Parnell, Dina Farndon Eidinger, Evelyn Garcia, Nicola Barton, Jacqueline Showdog, Elle Christopher, Carly Grey, L.E. Chamberlain, Marie Mason, Trina Marie, Kim Howlett, Ellen Totten, Jen Berg, Shirley Wilkinson, Ana Kristina Rabacca, Emma Darch-Harris, Emma Wynne Williams, MJ Fryer, Drizinha Dri, Rose Hogg, Barbara Murray, Beverley Cindy, Megan Davis, Jenny Angell, Mary Rose Bermundo, Clare Norton, Andrea Jackson, Rosarita Reader, Sarah Bookhooked, Fuñny Souisa, Luiza Oioli, Megan Burgad, Lisa G. Murray Ziegler, Krista Webber, Carol Sales, Crysal Ordex-Hernandez, Dana Fiore Stusse, Jade Donaldson, Paola Cortes, Natalie Townson, Hang Le, Erin Spencer, Raquel Gamez, Nycole Griffin, Kandace Milostan, Ana Moraes, Sharen Kallenberger Marzola.