Rebel at Spruce High (Spruce Texas Romance #5) - Daryl Banner Page 0,93

once that his brother and Billy were “looking to expand their family”. I figured he meant a dog. Not a human being. A baby or a child. Whatever they planned.

Suddenly the door whisks open, and Billy appears there. “Oh, Toby,” he breathes, surprised and flustered. “Did you—ah—Did you need anything? Is the deep fryer doing that thing it does when you try to turn it off?”

“No, I’m fine, it’s all shut down.” I spot Mrs. Tucker in a chair by the desk, looking away. I’m guessing I gave her a moment of reprieve where she doesn’t have to put on a face in front of her son, who I am momentarily distracting. She’s clearly upset. Maybe I should draw this out for a moment longer. “I … just … wanted to check to make sure I could leave for the night. My ride’s been—”

“Waiting,” Billy finishes for me, then nods quickly. “Yeah. If there’s anything else, don’t worry, I’ll get it done. Remember, I ran this place many years before you did.”

“Right. Thanks, Billy.” I loiter at the door a second too long to be natural, squirm, then make up a question. “Is there some sorta reason Coach Strong doesn’t call himself Coach Tucker-Strong?”

Billy, whose mind seems everywhere except here, squints in confusion a moment before he gives a distracted answer. “I guess it’s more like no matter how many times he says it, no one knows him for his new name. I think he’ll be a Strong the rest of his life, whether I’m his husband or not. Hell, I still get called Billy Tucker. Or Mr. Tucker. Or Junior,” he adds with a teasing glance over his shoulder—where he then catches his mother still looking away, her face full of distress.

Crap. “Is, uh, everything okay?” I quickly ask.

Billy, flustered even further, mumbles, “Hmm? Yes. Why?”

Suddenly—and rather belatedly—I wonder if the weirdness here has anything to do with the phone call to Coach Strong. If I get the story from Billy right now, I won’t have to pester Jimmy into spilling the beans later. Besides, I’m not sure I can trust that what I talk to Jimmy about doesn’t just get hot-potatoed right to his big brother. Thanks, Jimmy. “You seem upset. Earlier today—”

“Oh, you were in the office when I called Tanner.” It hits Billy, and he lets out a strained laugh. “Now I get it. No, you don’t have to worry. It’s just … We’re just goin’ through a little somethin’.”

I suspect I already know what it is. “If you want, I can talk to my best friend Kelsey and—” Did I just call Kelsey my best friend? Is she? Is this an accurate statement? “—find out what the Kings went through in adopting her. They’re a gay, married couple right on the outskirts of Spruce and Fairview, so … maybe it could help.”

Billy, who quite instantly appears stunned at what I’ve pieced together with just a few clues and mental glue, stares at me like a frozen block of Billy-shaped ice and sweat.

I realize just as instantly I might have overstepped. “Sorry. I’ll just go. I didn’t mean—Anyway, she was in the foster care system. It’s probably different than what you’re doing. I won’t tell anyone. I’m gonna—I’m gonna go.” After another clumsy spill of words I can’t recall saying, I make a fast departure. I suspect a still-bewildered Billy watches me the whole way out.

When I swing onto the back of Vann’s bike, take the helmet from him, then slide my arms around his tight, toned waist, I lay my head on his back, smell him, and instantly feel at home. “You all good back there?” he asks as his motorcycle growls between our legs. “Ride away, cowboy,” I tell him with a relieved and happy grin spilling over my face, and off he goes.

But apparently it isn’t my house we’re heading to. “Isn’t it a bit late for a joyride?” I ask loudly as we zip down the road—away from my neighborhood. “I mean, I’m not opposed to one, of course. Everyone’s out and about tonight, but—”

“Nope!” he shouts over his shoulder. “This isn’t a joyride!”

“Are we making a rendezvous at TJ’s lovely estate??” I tease as I take note of our general vicinity—the rich area. I’m seriously at a loss. “Are you guys best friends now? What’s goin’ on?”

He doesn’t answer any more of my questions.

Five minutes later, he doesn’t have to. He comes to a stop and cuts the engine off in