All the Rules of Heaven (All That Heaven Will Allow #1) - Amy Lane Page 0,5

and a white T-shirt. He looked like a greaser or a Jet, right down to the slicked-back hair.

Although—and this had been the thing that had first terrified Tucker to his marrow—this guy was also dead. Or astral projecting. Or something. Because his body wasn’t depressing the frilly yellow-and-pink coverlet on Dakota’s bed even a little. He just sat/hovered there, tapping the bottom of his red Converse sneakers with his thumbs, scowling at Tucker as if Tucker had somehow disappointed him.

“Can I help you?” Tucker mumbled, squinting at him some more. Oh yeah. The more Tucker looked, the less this guy resembled Damien. Which was good. Because he wasn’t sure how to deal with… Damien. Watching him sleep naked.

Not after all this time.

But then the penetrating gaze of this stranger, this not-Damien, wasn’t doing him any good either.

Tucker hadn’t been with anybody of his choosing in a long time, and he’d assumed the part of him that did choose had been killed off by grief. Imagine his surprise when he felt his stomach flutter.

“You were supposed to be at the house last night,” the young man said. “I waited up.”

“I found something better to do,” Tucker replied, rolling his eyes and keeping the flutter to himself. “I’m sorry. Nobody told me there would be a ghost at the house waiting for me.”

The ghost did not look appeased. “You need to come with me as soon as—”

“Mm… Tucker?” Dakota stretched, her tank top coming up under her breasts and her frilly white drawers dropping right below her neatly trimmed pubic hair. Tucker had been with women—big, small, short, tall, sophisticated, and plain country girls—and he never seemed to get over how the slightest changes in grooming or shopping or a perfume or a hair product could make such a difference from one woman to the next. He didn’t actually have a preference—not anymore—but he sure did have an appreciation for what Dakota did, personally and to herself.

“Hey, hon,” he said softly. “You go ahead and sleep. I’ve got some stuff to take care of at the house this morning.” He bent over and kissed her cheek. “I’m so glad you got that whole career thing sorted out,” he said, stroking her lower lip with his thumb. “You know where I’ll be if you ever want to talk again.”

He saw the familiar emotions pass over her heart-shaped, animated face. Disappointment at first, because he wasn’t going to stay, and for whatever reason, he’d helped this person feel better the night before. Then there was the “Oh my God, what have I done?” recognition—very often, the person he was with was as much a stranger to one-night stands as they were to Tucker himself.

And finally—oh, there it was—relief.

Yes, definitely relief.

She realized that she didn’t know Tucker, didn’t know him at all, and he was leaving her, but he was doing it respectfully, and he was letting her know any future contact would be fine.

But he wasn’t going to be in her bed anymore.

Then Dakota did him one better. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes growing a little sad again. “You really did help me figure some stuff out.”

Tucker smiled slightly. “That’s what I’m here for, darlin’. Can I use your shower?”

NOT-DAMIEN FOLLOWED Tucker into the shower, and Tucker shook his head. It was like this ghost or whatever hadn’t learned the rules of being a ghost yet.

“Hey, do you mind?” he muttered, shedding his boxer shorts quickly and jumping into the water before it had completely heated. California had been in a drought for years—every drop counted.

“I don’t mind at all,” the ghost said, appearing right in front of him as the cold water pounded his neck.

Tucker choked back a yelp. “Man, get out of the goddamned shower or I’m calling the state and donating the house!”

The ghost gave Tucker’s body what was supposed to be a contemptuous look, but somewhere between Tucker’s face and his knees, it paused and grew a little heated. With an effort, not-Damien met Tucker’s eyes. “I am above lust,” he said with the dignity of a desperate lie.

“I don’t care if you lust after me,” Tucker lied back. His attraction to this not-Damien creature was super irritating when he was naked in the shower. He grabbed some flowered body wash from the shelf and sniffed. Not bad—women did know how to smell. He dumped some on a sponge and continued, “I’m not afraid of finding a man in my shower. I’m pissed off. My entire life is a