“I’m just Tucker,” he said, his voice far less firm than intended.
That line between her eyebrows deepened. “Just?”
Her confusion made his chest feel odd. Change the subject. Entertain her. Make her stay. “Why do you use a broom to guide you?”
Her perplexity cleared. “Because it serves a dual purpose. I’m not just walking around, I’m cleaning the floor behind me. I’m like a human—”
“Roomba,” they said at the same time.
“Yes,” Mary whispered, smiling. Happy red pinpricks came to life and whirred around the crown of her head, kicking up a hushed murmur around the bar, not to mention in his heart. Elsewhere, Tucker had far less admirable thoughts, though. Imagining those specks of light dancing on his thighs and stomach, the fly of his jeans turned even more restricting. But the swelling between his legs paused abruptly when she said, innocently as all get out, “Are you here to bring me to my future husband?”
Husband.
Husband?
Jealousy ripped through him. Was his throat caving in? “No.”
“Can you?”
“No,” Mary’s mother answered in his stead, once again seizing her daughter by the elbow and attempting to guide her away from Tucker. No. His muscles tensed, his feet jolting into action. He moved with the women, quickly, because distance between him and the redhead irked and rattled him. Pained him, even. Why? How? “No, he can’t, dear.”
Mary pulled out of her mother’s hold. “You haven’t even asked him.”
“I’ll do whatever she wants.” Tucker rasped, meaning every word. “Please.”
Just let me stay near her a while longer.
Tilda snorted. “Absolutely not.”
The red pricks of light doing a jig around Mary’s head started spinning. Faster and faster until each individual spark was indistinguishable and it looked like a halo. Fitting for an angel.
And this angel was pissed.
She sucked in a breath and screamed.
It wasn’t your standard scream. Oh no.
For one, it shattered eyewear and highballs throughout the slayer joint, sending glass shards every which way, some burying in skin, other bits tinkling onto the floor. The humans in the room went down on their knees, hands clapped over their ears, faces contorted in pain. Tucker’s own ears registered discomfort, but Mary’s obvious unhappiness was more upsetting to him than the supernatural sound. He stepped toward her, reaching out, unsure of what to do. Only knowing he had to fix it. Fix it now.
“Mary!” Tilda shouted, taking her daughter by the shoulders. “Enough of this—”
The scream only got louder, more intense.
Tucker could only stand there and marvel.
“Fine!” Tilda screeched. “Fine, yes…he can bring you. All right? Stop this at once!”
Mary’s scream died down, a quiet smile growing on her face. Above her head, the blips of light commenced a happy game of leapfrog, perhaps even glowing brighter than before, and Tucker’s shoulders wilted with relief. That is, until she reached down and threaded their fingers together and his Adam’s apple seemed to get stuck.
“Works every time,” she whispered for his ears alone.
He forced his feet to move as she pulled him through the parted crowd toward the stairs.
“Well now,” Tucker heard Tilda say behind him, her tone betraying her shock. “Pleasantries are out of the way, I suppose. On with the meeting.”
Tucker stared down at the smiling, nightgown-clad girl, in quite a bit of shock himself. This was the closest he would ever come to being knighted. Having a sword tapped on both of his shoulders, some lofty title added to his name. Out of a whole room of people, Mary had chosen him. All right, so she wanted Tucker to drive her somewhere. Not unusual. Sometimes he wondered if he had the word chauffeur tattooed on his forehead.
And in this instance, his role as the wheel man was a blessing and a curse.
He’d get to spend time with Mary.
But apparently he’d be dropping her off at her wedding.
Who the hell was she marrying?
Obscene pressure weighed down on his chest, preventing him from speaking and the silence stretched. What are you doing? Make her laugh.
His almighty fallback. When unsure, be the clown.
“Speaking of Roombas…” Once again, he thanked God he no longer had functioning sweat glands or he’d be pouring the stuff. “I sold mine recently.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “It was just collecting dust.”
A gasping laugh bubbled out of her, so pure and beautiful, he almost stumbled on the step. What he wouldn’t give to hear that sound in the dark while he made her laugh and pleasured her at the same time. More than just a clown. A lover. The man who got to lift that nightgown, press her legs open and kiss the gasps from her mouth. “I’m glad I woke up or I would have missed you,” she said. “Is it very far to Ohio?”
Focus, pervert. “Is that where we’re going?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that yet.” She chewed her lip. “Although you’re bound to find out sooner or later, right?”
“Yes. I’ll have to put the address in the navigator. That’s usually a dead giveaway.”
Smiling at the door ahead, she squeezed his arm. “You’re funny, too.”
“Too?”
“On top of being a guardian, I mean.”
They’d reached the top of the landing and Tucker was beginning to worry that she’d mistaken him for someone else. “Oh, I’m not…” he started, battling the urge to play along. “What do you mean by a guardian?”
“I mean you, of course. I could feel how much you wanted to protect me downstairs. Even now you’re worried I’ll trip or something, aren’t you?” she asked. He didn’t have a chance to answer because she continued without a breath. “Mother says there are two kinds of beings. Guardians and those who are meant to be guarded. She tells me I’m the second type, but…” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I secretly wish I could be the first. Everyone wants to be a hero, don’t they?”
“Oh.” He chuckled. “I’m not a hero.”
“And I’m not mad, even though they call me Mary the Mad. Sometimes I just really need to scream, you know?”
“I believe you.”
Her face warmed, her unseeing eyes glued to his neck. “Thank you.”
With that, she tugged him into the office, leading him to a small, antique bench on one side of a delicate, Victorian-looking desk. He managed to tear his eyes from the girl for a moment, so he could take stock of their surroundings. Violin music whined from an old record player in the corner, expensive knickknacks on every surface, covered in a light layer of dust. Smoke and leather and age filled Tucker’s nostrils and he sucked all of it in abruptly when Mary unexpectedly scooted right into his side, gluing them together shoulder to ankle. Allowing him to feel the gentle swell of her hip and imagine it in his palm. Tugging it forward, pinning it down. Biting.
Tilda stopped in the doorframe, analyzing his and Mary’s positions with an air of distaste. Maybe even some dread. But he had no idea what the latter meant. Only knew he wouldn’t be moving away from Mary any time soon. Not until it was absolutely necessary.