“It isn’t like that.”
“Billy is hands off, now Jace is too.”
“That’s it. Those two make up my entire list of male conquests.”
Renie smiled. Blythe was relieved. For a while, she wasn’t sure if Renie still possessed a sense of humor. It looked like it was back.
“So, tell me,” said Blythe, making an effort to change the subject. “How is it being the wicked stepmother?”
Renie smiled again. She might have even laughed. She may say she wanted Blythe to curtail speaking before thinking, but the truth was, Blythe made Renie laugh.
“I know that look.”
“What look?”
“Are you interested in her, or is it a show to get back at the ex-girlfriend?”
“Her name is Irene. And yes, I’m interested in her friend.”
“You’re sure?”
“Did you see her? She’s magnificent.”
Tucker agreed, the girl was magnificent. She had long, dark hair, and the most b
eautiful eyes. In the sunlight, they looked violet.
He recognized the look on Jace’s face when he met the girl. Blythe, that was her name. His brother’s eyes lit up, and when he shook her hand, he held on longer than he should have. He watched, and the slow burn of envy crept up his spine.
Tucker was rarely envious of his brother. Today was different. He wished he had been the one to hold Blythe’s hand longer than appropriate, gaze into her eyes, and ask if he could see her later. He would’ve handled it differently, of course, but no less effectively.
What was most surprising was how unaware Jace was of his feelings, or maybe he was blocking them. Sometimes he wondered if he could feel Jace more than Jace could feel him. Even if they were a thousand miles apart, Tucker could predict Jace’s mood, whether he spoke with him or not.
Tucker hadn’t wanted to spend Thanksgiving in Crested Butte, but his parents insisted. His dad was looking forward to reconnecting with his cousin, who was Ben’s dad. Ben had extended the invitation when he and Jace reconnected a few weeks ago through Renie.
“We were close once,” their dad said. “Nothing specific happened that resulted in our drifting apart, it happened naturally.
“My parents always spent Thanksgiving in Crested Butte. A few years after my dad died, we decided to spend the holidays in Aspen. You two were a handful, and it was easier on your mom if we stayed home. We weren’t kids when you and your brother were born.”
Jace told Tucker he felt as though his father was winding down his life. It seemed important to him to reconnect with people he’d lost touch with. That was the only reason Tucker agreed to come along on a day he normally kept to himself.
Up until last week, Tucker was in Spain. He spent as much of his time there as he could. Since he’d gotten back to the States, he’d been adrift. At first he thought it was jet lag, but even after a week, he wasn’t feeling any better. He was moody and sullen. He was an artist, anxious to get back to work. He hadn’t decided what his next project would be. Perhaps when he did, his angst would dissipate.
The most recent work he’d done was in bronze. He’d completed several sculptures, and sold them all, even the one he intended to keep for himself. He considered block prints as the next medium he’d explore, but painting was beckoning him.
It had been three years since he painted. Watercolor was his favorite medium in two-dimensional work. He could paint quickly—a sense of accomplishment came immediately. There were days he could do three or four full-sheet paintings before noon. He longed for that kind of release.
There was more to his bad mood than lack of a project. He was beginning to feel as though his life was aimless. In Spain he was all about creating art, having fun—and having sex. That was the extent of it.
There had been a time in his life he thought he’d have love, a family, everything his parents had, but that dream vanished.
There was something about the dark-haired beauty that beckoned him, though. It was strong enough that he couldn’t ignore it. Even if he started something with her, he knew it wouldn’t last. It never did, he always lost interest quickly. There’d been one woman in his life who’d been able to hold his attention. And he’d lost her, in more ways than one.
“I like her,” he stated.
“What’s that?” Jace asked.
“I said I like her.”