He retrieved his kit and cleansed the abrasions. The wounds were minor, but marred a tanned, flawless complexion.
“Am I going to get a black eye?” she asked as he smoothed an antibiotic cream over a scrape below her right eye.
“Hmm?” Tucker murmured, distracted by the soft, silky texture of her skin.
“It’s tender. Is it bruising?”
“Oh. Not sure. Fifty-fifty, I’d guess. Your cheekbones did their work.” Great cheekbones. Really great cheekbones. Bet she had a bit of Slavic blood in her DNA. Or maybe Comanche or Apache, if her people were from this part of the world.
Tucker finished his ministrations, stifled the urge to kiss her boo-boo, and stepped away. Five minutes later, when she sat behind him on his bike, her arms wrapped around his waist, he decided it really was his pleasure. When was the last time he’d been held in any manner by a woman? Too long ago to easily recall. How depressing was that?
Gillian directed him to the site of the accident, a wooded section of land divided by a creek. Upon seeing the crushed front end of the silver crossover SUV smashed into the trunk of a huge pecan tree, Tucker grimaced. The vehicle was definitely not drivable. She was lucky to have walked away with only minor injuries.
He glanced at her and advised, “Next time, hit the hog.”
Having pinpointed her vehicle’s location, Gillian called first her auto club to arrange for a tow and then a brother named Mike to come pick her up. When it turned out that her brother was on a bird hunt with her father in South Texas, Tucker offered to drive her all the way home to Redemption.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly put you out that way.”
“I was headed that general direction anyway. No bother.”
“That’s terribly kind of you, Tucker, but there’s someone else who will help me.” Then, with obvious reluctance, she placed a call to someone named Jeremy.
The gentleman in Tucker told him not to eavesdrop. The scoundrel listened avidly. It quickly became apparent that Jeremy was her boyfriend, and the pair had argued, which probably accounted for her tears and inattention to her driving. Tucker had to give the guy credit, though. As soon as she mentioned wrecking her car, the tone of the conversation changed. Jeremy was obviously concerned about her.
The brittle mood that had clung to Gillian since he first spotted her eased somewhat. She shifted the phone away from her mouth, looked at Tucker, and said, “My friend says we’re about twenty minutes east of Temple. He’s at a golf resort about half an hour south. Would you mind taking me to the Buc-ee’s on I-35? Or if it’s too much out of your way, he’ll meet me here.”
Buc-ee’s was a quirky convenience store chain with a cartoon beaver as its logo, whose stores boasted hundreds of parking spaces, dozens of gas pumps, and the cleanest bathrooms in America. With less than fifty stores, Buc-ee’s had developed a cultlike following in Texas and beyond. “I’ll be glad to take you to visit the big beaver. I try never to pass up the roasted nuts.”
“The banana pudding is spectacular,” she advised before returning to her call to establish a meeting place inside the large store with her friend. “Thank you, Jeremy,” she said. “I appreciate the help.”
Whatever Jeremy said in reply caused her to stiffen. Her tone held some bite when she responded. “With any luck, you’ll still be able to get in nine holes before dark. I’ll see you at Buc-ee’s.”
She ended the call and handed Tucker’s phone back to him while wearing a false smile. Her eyes glittered with pique.
Trouble in paradise, Tucker concluded as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. Had her boyfriend complained about leaving the golf course to aid the damsel in distress? Ol’ Jeremy must not be very bright.
Gillian used her key fob to open her vehicle’s rear door. She removed a purple nylon backpack. Curious, Tucker observed, “Something tells me that isn’t a well-stocked go bag.”
“It’s my gym bag. I carry all my essentials with me.”
Tucker snorted. “Like a compass? Fire starter? Water purifier? Maps?”
Her chin came up. She held her bag open to display its contents. “Moisturizer. Shampoo. Sunscreen. No sneakers, unfortunately, but I do have a pair of shorts, which will make riding a motorcycle while wearing a dress less, um, awkward.”
Tucker gallantly resisted the urge to drop his gaze to the short hem of her skirt. “The sunscreen is defensible. The rest, not so much.” He reached into the bag and checked the SPF number on the label. Fifty. Then his tone grew serious as he added, “Seriously, though, Gillian. I hope this incident has shown you the importance of keeping basic supplies with you when you travel. Have you realized that we haven’t seen another vehicle since I stopped to help you? You have no water, you walked away from the shelter of your car, and there’s a cold front on its way. You very easily could have been stranded overnight, and feral hogs aren’t the only wild animals around. At the very least, you should have water and a decent pair of shoes with you.”
“I know. I know. Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson. I can’t thank you—” Gillian looked up at him with a rueful smile on her face. Their gazes met and held. “Enough.”
In that moment, sexual awareness flashed between them. Her eyes subtly widened. Nervously, her tongue moistened her lips. When she ever so slightly leaned toward him, Tucker took it as an invitation. His fingers drifted under her chin, lifting up her face. He bent his head and brushed her lips with his, gently, tentatively at first. When she responded, he let his fingers delve into that glorious hair of hers and angled her head to allow him to deepen the kiss.
She tasted of spearmint and smelled faintly of pumpkin spice, the air freshener he’d spied hanging from her rearview mirror, he deduced. When her arms snaked up and clasped around his neck, Tucker slipped his free hand around her waist and pulled her tighter. Sizzle. Pow. Boom. Welcome back to Texas, McBride.
Abruptly, the moment ended when she pulled away. Her blue eyes were wide and panicky, and she brought her hands up to cover the cheeks that had gone as red as her dress. “Oh, no. No. No. No. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
She took another step back, her hands extended palms out toward him. “That shouldn’t have happened. I’m engaged. Well, maybe technically I’m not still engaged because I threw his ring at him and told him we were through and to grow up, but it wasn’t a real breakup. I don’t think. We had a terrible fight, but he is coming to get me. And he had a tee time.”
“Such sacrifice,” Tucker drawled.
“I’m so sorry. I’m not myself. I don’t do things like this. Never mind that he accused me of it. I’m not that kind of woman. This has been a really, really bad day, and I’m truly not myself.”
Taking pity on her, Tucker attempted to reassure her with a grin. “Well, damn. Why is it the goddesses are always taken? No harm done from my perspective. Consider it a friendly little thank-you kiss.”
“I’m never that friendly. Honestly, I’m not.”
“Don’t forget the thank-you part. I deserved a big thank-you.”
“Yes, you do, but I usually send a little gift to say thank you. A bottle of wine. My favorite barbecue seasoning. Local honey.”