Free Tucker (The Family Simon) by Juliana Stone Page A

loose ends in his life? He couldn’t go there with a woman like Abby, because a woman like Abby deserved more than sex, and aside from friendship, that was pretty much all he had to offer.
    With a groan Tucker shifted again, his eyes on Abby as she laughed at something Rick said. Cooper was nowhere in sight so that was something, but Rick and Abby were near the patio that looked out over the water. A slight breeze had built, teasing the air with her hair, and he watched the elegant lift of her hand as she tucked a piece behind her ear.
    She rocked jeans and T-shirts—there was no doubt about that—but something about this ultra feminine and sexy side of her was appealing. More than appealing.
    “Shit,” he muttered, running his hands over the top of his head. He thought of his brother Teague and wished that he was here. At least then he’d have someone to bitch to who would understand. Beau was too wrapped up in Betty Jo, and he’d hardly seen his older brother Jack. A rising star in the Democratic party, Jack Simon was in demand, and it seemed everyone wanted a piece of him, even at a family function.
    “Your friend is something else, Tuck. Glad you found her.”
    Speak of the devil.
    Tucker glanced up as Jack stopped just in front of him. His dress shirt was undone, tie long gone, and the annoying Monique was nowhere to be seen. She’d flitted around him like a goddamn fly all night, and it was obvious that Jack wasn’t the only one with aspirations. Monique Patterson had her sights set on being a Simon, and Tucker had a feeling that if his brother didn’t play it right, he just might end up saddled with a woman he didn’t love.
    “God, not you too,” Tucker muttered. “Look, we’re not involved.”
    Jack cocked his head to the side, an eyebrow arched. “Okay,” he said eventually, dragging the word out a bit.
    “We’re not,” Tucker repeated, louder than he should. Jesus Christ, what the hell was wrong with his family? Did they not understand the English language?
    Jack glanced across the room as Abby’s laughter drifted over to them, and Tucker followed his direction. It had been a long day for most, and with the wedding in less than ten hours, the crowd was thinning.
    “Too bad,” Jack murmured, slipping his arms into his suit jacket. “I like her.”
    “Yeah,” Tucker replied. “She’s easy to like.” He paused, eyes still on Abby. “Where’s Monique?”
    “Headache. She gets bad migraines.”
    Not surprised. The woman was strung as tight a bow and anal about everything. Being around her was exhausting, and he didn’t know how Jack put up with her.
    “She headed up to the room about twenty minutes ago.”
    Tucker watched Abby lean closer to Rick, laughter bubbling on her lips. His cousin said something—eliciting another round of giggles—and then headed for the bar, while Abby rolled her shoulders and glanced toward Tucker. She was flushed, sexy as hell, and probably well on her way to being more than a little drunk. Tucker knew that wine wasn’t her drink of choice—she was more of a Bud Light kind of girl. But in this crowd, she’d stuck to champagne and wine and she’d had more than her share of the Pinot Grigio before and after dinner.
    Abby held Tucker’s gaze for a few seconds, a soft smile on her lips, and it felt as if they were the only two people in the room. Just like that, the air was sucked from his lungs and Tucker sat straighter, nerves jumping like a junkie looking for a fix. A sudden gust of wind tugged on her hair blowing it across her face and she turned on her heel, disappearing into the night.
    Tucker was on his feet and mumbling a goodnight to his brother in exactly three seconds flat. He strode past the bar, past those gathered for last call, past his cousin Rick and a few others, never taking his eyes off the doorway that Abby had disappeared through.
    Once outside, he took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the gloom, though there was a sliver of