Now he needed to find somewhere out of the way to sit so he could nestle the beer in his crotch like an ice pack. It was too early to leave without a good explanation, and he sure as hell didn’t want to call attention to himself. Laura had done enough of that by getting drunk as hell within the first hour. He hoped he could lie low for a bit, then leave without anyone noticing.
He found a perfect spot outside in Clyde and Helen Ross’s backyard. Clyde’s property was expansive, and since the team party included family and friends, there was enough of a crowd that Tucker could disappear for a while without anyone noticing. He intended to get lost in one of the many winding garden areas? and he finally found a gazebo that was fortunately deserted. He laid his head back in one of the very comfortable cushioned chairs, nestling his beer between his thighs.
Hell of a night. He could enjoy this solitude for—
“I would have been happy to get you an ice pack for your testicles.”
That could only be one person. He peeked one eye open. “My balls are fine, Aubry. This is just where I rest my beer.”
“Between your legs, which is one of the warmest areas on your body? What man in his right mind wants warm beer?”
He sighed, opened both eyes and set his beer on the table next to the chair. “Are you following me?”
She laughed, then stepped inside the gazebo. “No. I was on my way to the guesthouse to check on . . . something.”
He cocked a brow. “Something? Or someone?”
She shrugged. “Maybe both.”
She gave a quick glance to the house in the distance.
“Searching for your boyfriend?” he asked.
She quirked a smile. “Uh, no. My uncle. He has a tendency to wander off with inappropriate people. People who aren’t my aunt.”
“Oh.”
“My mom asked me to check and see if he was in the guesthouse.”
He stood, trying not to wince as he did. “I’ll go with you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Still, I’ll go with you.”
She looked him over. “Are you sure you can walk that far, given your . . . condition?”
“Funny. Let’s go.”
He stepped off the gazebo and walked next to her as she made her way around the gardens and toward the house.
“So your uncle? Related to your mom or your dad?”
“He’s my mom’s brother.”
“Do you like him?”
She shrugged. “I tolerate him because he’s married to my aunt, whom I love, and he’s the father of my cousins, whom I also love. My uncle has an unfortunate wandering eye, according to my mother.”
“And does your aunt know about this?”
“Apparently she does, and she looks the other way because they’ve been married a long time and have three kids—my cousins. My aunt, according to my mother, is . . .”
He waited, but she didn’t finish, so he glanced over at her. “Comfortable?”
Aubry shrugged. “I guess so.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think it’s none of my business.”
He stopped. “Surely you have an opinion.”
“I don’t want to get involved in their marriage. And if it works for both of them, then why should I get in the middle of it?”
He looked over at the guesthouse. “Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”
“No. I’m doing a favor for my mother, who doesn’t want Aunt Farrah to be publicly embarrassed if someone else wanders into the guesthouse and finds Uncle Davis in flagrante delicto with some bimbo.”
He wanted to cringe at her use of the word “bimbo.” He didn’t know the relationship dynamics between Aubry’s aunt and uncle, but apparently they weren’t good.
She stopped at the entrance to the house. “Lights are off.”
“Which means nothing.”
She sighed. “True.”
She dug the keys out of the pocket of her dress, stared at the house and hesitated. Not that he blamed her. If it were his family member, he wasn’t sure he’d want to know, either.
“Would he be able to get in there without keys?” he asked.
“He knows where the spare set is kept. He’s stayed in the guesthouse before when he and my aunt have had . . . tiffs.”
“I see. Would you like me to go in there?”
She frowned. “Why?”
“You know, that way if your uncle—”
“Davis.”
“Right. If your Uncle Davis is in there, then you don’t have to see anything, and he won’t know you were the one to find him.”
“You make valid points.” She handed him the keys.
“I’ll be right back.”
As Tucker headed off, Aubry inhaled a deep breath, then let it out slowly, hoping Tucker wouldn’t find anyone at all inside the guesthouse, let alone Uncle Davis, who shouldn’t be with anyone but Aunt Farrah.
She did not understand relationships. Or marriage. Her mother tried to explain the nuances of Uncle Davis and Aunt Farrah’s, but she’d always held up her hands and told her she didn’t want to know. It wasn’t her business. She loved her aunt and stood by her decision to stay with Uncle Davis, but this cat-and-mouse game the two of them played was ridiculous.