Unexpected Inheritance

3

Tucker gave her a tight nod before walking off with Tuck, but not before throwing one last glance at Ben.

Ben wiped the sweat from his brow as he pushed the mower into the shed, satisfied with the neat lines across the yard. The encounter with Tucker had been... interesting, but he wasn't one to dwell. Instead, his focus shifted to something far more rewarding—a cold drink waiting inside.

As he stepped into the kitchen, the cool air was a welcome relief. Miranda was seated at the table, papers spread out before her. She looked up just as he reached for the pitcher of lemonade, and her eyes lingered for a beat too long on his sweat-slicked chest and arms.

"Careful, Dr. Bailey. You keep staring like that, I might start thinking you're sweet on me."  he teased, leaning casually against the counter.

Miranda blinked, her cheeks warming as she quickly averted her gaze. "I wasn't staring," she said, her tone firm but just shy of flustered.

"It's okay, you're not the only one. I might've been guilty of checking you out a time or two." he said with a shrug, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her. He leaned back, watching her carefully. "So, your ex—he staying long?"

She sighed, setting down her pen. "I'm not sure. Didn't even know he was coming,"

He nodded, his expression thoughtful as he moved to sit at the table across from her. The air between them shifted, the teasing giving way to something more serious.

"Miranda" he said, his voice quieter. "You think it's time we tell Tuck about... us?"

Miranda leaned back in her chair, her fingers toying with the edge of the papers in front of her.

"I've been thinking about it," she admitted, her voice soft. "But I don't know how he'll take it. He's just getting used to all these changes—this place, the practice. I don't want to throw too much at him at once."

"I get that. But the kid's sharp, Miranda. He'll figure it out eventually, and I'd rather he hear it from us than catch us sneaking around."

She sighed, her fingers brushing the edge of the papers on the table. "You're probably right. I just need to figure out the right time."

"No rush," Ben said, his voice steady. "When you're ready. Just know I'm all in, okay? No matter what."

"Okay," she said quietly.

As the evening rolled in, Tucker and Tuck returned from their walk.

"Mom," Tuck said as they entered, "can Dad stay for dinner?"

Miranda hesitated for a split second, glancing toward Tucker. She wasn't eager to extend the visit, but her son's hopeful expression made her nod. "Sure, why not?"

Ben, who had been standing in the kitchen prepping for dinner, gave a polite nod to Tucker but didn't comment. Cooking had become one of his contributions to the household, and he enjoyed it.

As they all sat down, the warm smell of roasted chicken, fresh vegetables, and cornbread filled the room. At first, the dinner conversation was light and centered around Tuck's excitement about his growing familiarity with country life.

But it didn't take long for Tucker to stir the pot.

"So, Ben," Tucker started, leaning back in his chair with a deliberate tone. "You're, what, the help around here? Groundskeeper, cook... handyman? Anything else you do?"

"Dad" Tuck muttered, glancing nervously between the two men.

Ben didn't look up immediately, calmly taking a bite of his food. "I do what's needed," he replied simply.