Page 8 of Property of my Boss

“Maybe they couldn’t find the evidence because he didn’t do it.”

“Do you hear yourself?” my brother groans. “I know guys like Tucker. Let me handle this.”

“You’ve been handling it. Hell, the FBI was handling it at one point. I can’t let this—”

“Tilly,” he pauses, “do you hear yourself? The FBI couldn’t find the answers they needed. Why do you think you will?”

“The FBI wasn’t using sex appeal.” I grin. “All men eventually cave to sex. It’s a known fact of life.” I shrug and flick on my blinker before turning left out onto the dirt road away from the campground. “You’re all simple.”

“She’s right,” Mira, Jack’s wife, calls out from the background. “When I met your brother, he was a traffic cop hell bent on following every law to the letter. He pulled me over for speeding and I was driving without a license. So, I fluttered my eyelashes a couple of times, told him how funny and good at his job he was, smiled a little, and bam… the whole problem disappeared,” she laughs. “Now we’re married, and I’ve got him constantly looking for a place to start that youth center I’ve always dreamed of having. If we can’t have our own babies, I want to help as many kids as I can.”

I can’t help but smile widely. “See… told you! Men are simple.”

“Let her do her thing,” Mira says, something crinkling as she speaks. “We’re right here if she needs help. Plus, that ass of hers could probably solve a lot of crimes.”

“Mira!” I laugh as the shadows of pine trees fall over the dirt road ahead.

“What? You were born with it… you should use it! That’s all I’m saying.”

“Dear God,” Jack groans. “She’s only twenty-six years old, and this guy is an animal. You have no idea what he’s capable of. This isn’t safe.”

“She’ll be fine,” Mira presses, lightness in her tone. “We’re a phone call away, and you know damn well she’s going to do this whether you like it or not.”

“Right,” my brother sighs, his line of questioning refocused on me, “and what about your real job? Don’t you have to work tonight?”

“Yes,” I nod, gripping the wheel tighter and tighter the longer we talk. “I’m sleeping in Dr. Angie’s office until my shift. She’s not on tonight.”

“So, you’re going into a crazy Friday night hospital shift with little to no sleep and rolling straight into a psychopath’s playground tomorrow even more exhausted? That’s smart.” There’s sarcasm in my brother’s voice, but I’m used to it. He’s ten years older, and he’s always believed wholeheartedly that he knows far more than me about everything.

“Wren is my best friend, Jack.” I sigh as I turn down the main road toward the hospital. “We told each other everything. I’d have known if she was planning to leave, and you know as well as I do that this Tucker guy is involved.”

There’s a long pause where all I hear is the hum of the car and the dog at their house barking in the background.

“Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow night? We can talk about everything and go over the details we both have. You have the night off, right?”

“I’ll let you know what time,” I say, flicking on my blinker to turn into the hospital parking lot. “We’ll figure this all out.”

My brother exhales loudly. “I hate this. You know that, right? You do hear me saying that I think this is a horrible, dangerous idea, right?”

I nod as I glance back in my rear-view mirror to see a big, jacked up truck following close behind, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe Jack is right.

Maybe I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into.

Chapter Five

Tucker

“What are you doing here?” Tilly narrows her gaze as she taps the glass on the passenger side door of the pickup truck I’ve had since my grandpa handed it down to me in high school. It’s seen three new transmissions and I’m pretty sure it’s about time for another, but the memories in his old Chevy are worth the cost of the repairs.

I roll down the window and stare at the girl I shouldn’t have hired, trying not to memorize every fucking shade of blue in her eyes. “Thought you quit nursing?”

“I did.” She huffs loudly and drags her hands up to her hips. “You ever heard of a two-week notice? Didn’t think you needed the exact details of every step I take. Also, don’t you think it’s weird to follow me around?”

It’s possible that she’s telling the truth, though I highly doubt she is. “So, you’re coming to work in this skirt?”

“No,” she snaps, her eyes driving daggers into my soul. “I have scrubs in my work locker. Do you think maybe you’ve overstepped by following me here?”

I hold my gaze on hers for a long second, studying the way her almond-shaped eyes narrow and her nostrils flare as the setting sun illuminates a tiny scar on her chin. Immediately, I want to know every detail about its origin. Even angry, she’s gorgeous. Gorgeous in a way that it’s hard to look away from. I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone like that before.