by Cindi Madsen
Only now that she was focusing on every single detail, from the familiar blue eyes to his strong, freshly shaven jawline, to— “Holy crap, dude. When did you get so jacked? Is lifting bulky legal files muscle building? If so, maybe I should start recommending it as part of my clients’ therapy regimens.”
His gaze ran over her as well, most likely assessing the ways she’d changed—or more likely hadn’t. “Isn’t it about time for a new sweatshirt?” He yanked one of the frayed, used-to-be-black strings. “That one’s looked ratty since our first year of college.”
She gasped and shoved him. “Hater. Just because my Falcons made it further in the playoffs than your Saints did last season. And don’t even try to tell me you’ve thrown out your beat-up baseball cap that practically grafted itself to your head during high school. Or maybe you don’t wear it anymore so you can show off your fancy-pants forty-dollar lawyer haircut.” She reached up and ran her hand through his hair, loosening the hold the gel had on it.
Much better. There was the boy who’d once landed her in detention because he’d dared her to put superglue on the teacher’s whiteboard markers while he distracted him with a question. The boy who’d challenged her to a deviled-egg-eating competition at the town festival and then moped about her beating him—to this day, the sight or scent of a deviled egg still made her stomach roll.
He grinned, every inch the laid-back Tucker Crawford she’d grown up with once again, and just like that, all seemed right in Uncertainty, Alabama.
“Crawford? Where you at?” Shep’s booming voice hit them a few seconds before he, Easton, and Ford rounded the corner and stepped onto the back deck.
“Murph!” they yelled when they saw her, and then they exchanged high fives, shoulder punches, and a few bro-hugs on their way to give Tucker the same treatment. Addie saw the rest of the guys around town here and there, but it was harder to get together now that everyone had careers and other obligations, and they hadn’t hung out in way too long. Funny how in high school they couldn’t wait to get older so they could do whatever they wanted, and instead they ended up having less free time than ever.
Shep placed two six-packs of Naked Pig Pale Ale, the best beer in all of Alabama, on top of a big planter that only held dirt, since the neglected plants had shriveled up and died long ago. “Before we get this party started, I guess I should let you know what we’re celebrating.”
The hint of worry Addie had felt since receiving the urgent text evaporated. The message had been so vague—typical guy, although her mom and sister accused her of the same thing.
Addie sat on the edge of the table, and when Tucker bumped her over with his hip, she scooted. The table wobbled, and Tucker’s hand shot out and wrapped around her upper arm as she worked to rebalance herself.
He chuckled. “Guess we’re heavier than we used to be.”
She scowled at him. “Hey! Speak for yourself.”
“Right. It must be all my jacked muscles.”
Addie rolled her eyes. That’s what she got for giving him an accidental compliment. Every single one of her boys had egos the size of pickup trucks, and the many girls who’d fawned over them through the years didn’t help any.
Shep raised his voice, speaking above the din. “So, you guys might recall I’ve been seeing Sexy Lexi, going on almost a year now.”
“How could we forget?” Addie quipped. “You talk about her nonstop.” She glanced at Tucker, who’d yet to meet Shep’s girlfriend, thanks to busy schedules and his last canceled trip. “Seriously, we go to get a beer and watch the game, and it’s Lexi this, Lexi that.”
Shep didn’t frown at her like she’d expected, grinning that twitterpated grin he often wore these days instead.
“She’s actually very lovely,” she added, then curled her hands around the table. While his Southern belle girlfriend worked to hold it at bay, Addie didn’t think Lexi was her biggest fan. She hated always having to downplay her friendship with the guys in order to not upset the balance of their relationships. Hopefully a little more time and getting to know each other, and Lexi would understand that Will Shepherd was more like a brother than anything.
All the guys were, and thanks to the fact they’d both stayed closer to home the past few years, she and Shep were even more sibling-like than the rest. It wasn’t the first time her friends’ girlfriends were wary of her, and she doubted it’d be the last. Sometimes she worried she’d get left behind, just because she’d had the audacity to be born a girl. Being the only girl in a group of guys was merely a technicality, though. It wasn’t that she didn’t have female friends or that she didn’t know a lot of great women; it was that she’d grown up with these guys and forged memories and they liked to do the same things she did.
It was why she’d gone by “Murph” more often than Addison Murphy, or any other variation thereof. Thanks to her love of comfy, sporty clothes, she’d been voted “most likely to start her own sweatshirt line” in high school, a title she was proud to have, by the way.
Easton had been voted “most likely to end up in jail,” and ironically enough, he was now a cop, something they all teased him about. Which reminded her…
“Don’t let me forget to make fun of your prissy car when this meeting is over,” Addie whispered to Tucker.
He opened his mouth, assumedly to defend himself, and Shep cleared his throat.
“Anyway, last weekend I asked Lexi to marry me.” A huge smile spread across his face. “And she said yes.”
Not at all what Addie had been expecting—marriage was such a big step, and it took her a beat or two to process. But happiness radiated off Shep in waves, the guy who’d once rolled his eyes over “whipped dudes” long gone. She was glad he’d found someone who made him so happy, even as a tiny part of her wanted to press pause on this night while they were all together, before everything changed in their group yet again.
“You get to bang Sexy Lexi for the rest of your life?” Ford held up his hand for a high five. “Bro. I remember when you had to work your ass off to score her number at that bar in Opelika, and Easton and I had that bet about whether her amazing rack was real.”
“Bro, that’s gonna be his wife,” Addie said.
“Yeah, have some respect,” Shep said. Then he put a hand to the side of his mouth and stage-whispered, “They’re one hundred percent real. I told you guys that, right?”
“Only, like, one hundred percent of the time you talk about her.” This was the one downside of being the only girl. Sometimes things got a little too TMI about the women they were sleeping with or hoping to sleep with. Back in high school, Tucker dated nearly every cheerleader in the county, so Addie would walk past one of the human Barbies and recall way too many personal details about her. Even when the girls would sneer or poke fun at her choice of clothing or hobbies, she resisted using that as ammo, something she used to feel she deserved a medal for.
Everyone continued to offer their congratulations, and after a few claps on the back and obligatory jokes about balls and chains, Shep said, “I want you guys to be in my wedding. To be my groomsmen.”
Addie’s stomach dropped. “You guys” usually included her, but she knew the word “groomsmen” didn’t. “Ha! Y’all are gonna have to wear stuffy penguin suits and take hundreds of pictures. Have fun with that.”
Shep looked at her, and a sense of foreboding pricked her skin. “Before you go celebrating too much, you’re in the wedding party, too, Murph. I told Lexi I wanted you as one of my groomsmen.”
While his girlfriend—make that fiancée—was pretty patient and understanding of Shep’s crazy, out-there ideas, she was also extremely girly. As in she wore a dress and heels more often than not—including to the local bar, which wasn’t a dress-and-heels kind of joint—and belonged to one of those societies that threw things like tea parties and galas. “I’m sure that went over about as well as coming out as a vegan in the middle of Sunday dinner.”
“She understands you’re just one of
the guys,” Shep said, and a hint of hope rose up. She hated that she’d immediately felt left out, the same way she used to when a group of girls would show up at the bar and suddenly she’d be alone, no one to help with game commentary. “But she’s also more traditional, her family even more so.”
“I understand,” Addie said. “I don’t think I’d look very good in a tux anyway, and my own mother would probably die twice over it.” All her life, Mom had asked why she couldn’t be more like her sister; why she couldn’t dress up more. Since Addie hadn’t been on a date in a depressing amount of time, Mom had also recently given her this whole spiel about first impressions and how when men looked for a significant other, they wanted to feel needed.
Like she didn’t want to feel needed? Or wanted? She’d just prefer a possible significant other want her the way she was, not because she donned a dress and acted helpless.
“Which is why…” Shep straightened, his hazel eyes locking on to her. “Lexi and I came up with a compromise. You’ll be a groomsman in name and when it comes to all the usual pre-wedding stuff, but in order to be part of the wedding party, you’re gonna have to wear the same dress and shoes as the bridesmaids.” The rest of the words came out in a fast blur, like he hoped if he talked fast enough she might miss them. “And you might have to dress up one or two other times, like at the rehearsal and maybe even the bridal shower.”
The guys burst out laughing. “Murph in a dress and heels,” Easton said. “That’ll be the day.”
Addie picked up the nearest object she could find—a weather-warped coaster—and chucked it at his head. It bounced off, and, if anything, only made him laugh harder.
The table shook, and when she glanced at Tucker, he had a fist over his mouth in an attempt to smother his laughter.
“You, too?” Two seconds before Shep dropped the bomb, she’d been thinking about how much she didn’t want to wear a dress and heels. Was karma punishing her? Was this what she got for being comfortable for most of her twenty-seven years?
“Please, Addie,” Shep said. “I know it’s not your thing, but I can’t imagine you not being part of this.” He shot a challenging glare at the group of them. “And spare me the jokes about actually caring about my wedding. I never thought I’d be this happy, but I am, and I need you guys with me on this.”
This time, the “you guys” definitely included her. Which made it that much easier to say, “I’m in. I’ll do whatever you need me to.”
…
Man, it was good to be back in town, even if only for a quick weekend. Tucker had been working hours and hours on end, thinking that after putting in two years at the law firm, he’d have enough experience and clout to slow down a bit. It never slowed down, though, his workload multiplying at an impossible-to-keep-up-with pace. He’d had to cancel his past two trips home with lame, last-minute texts and calls, but now that he was seated around the poker table with his friends, all felt right with the world.
“You’re bluffin’,” Addie said when Easton threw several chips into the pot. She matched his bet, and then they laid down their cards, her full house easily beating his pair of aces. “Read ’em and weep, sucker.”
She leaned over the table to gather her winnings, the sleeves of her two-sizes-too-big hoodie falling over her hands. Her familiar movements were nearly second nature, as much to him as her. From the way she shoved the fabric up her wrists so she could finish gathering the chips to how she flopped back in her chair and reached into the bag of Lay’s for a different kind of chip. Her knee came up to rest against the table, rattling everything on top and boosting the time-machine effect, and she wiped her hand on her frayed jeans before reaching for the newly dealt cards. Her neon-colored gel sneakers, the one new item in her outfit, reminded him of all the times she’d lectured about how important the right shoes and changing them often were for your joints.
He cracked a smile again at the thought of her in a dress and heels, bouquet in hand. The image still didn’t compute. It was kind of like animals wearing human clothes—it just wasn’t right.
It wasn’t that they’d never seen Addie wear a dress; it was that she loathed them with a hatred he withheld for things like paperwork and blind refs who ruined games, and she’d once slugged him in the shoulder for even mentioning her dress-wearing at her sister’s wedding. The skirt had been long and baggy, and the real tragedy was that she couldn’t toss around the pigskin—her mom said it’d ruin her nice clothes, and added that it was an “inappropriate wedding activity, anyway.” So then they’d both had to sit there with their hands folded in their laps for what seemed like forever and it was boring as hell, an emotion he’d rarely experienced around her.
“Your poker face is crap, Crawford. I know you’re thinking about how funny it is that I just agreed to wear a freaking bridesmaid’s dress, and if you don’t want me to jam that beer you’re drinking where the sun don’t shine, I suggest you wipe the smirk off your face.” She pointed her finger around the table. “That goes for all of you.”
“I appreciate you going along with it,” Shep said. “I told Lexi that you’d probably slug me just for suggesting it.”
“Lucky for you, you were too far away and wearing that lovestruck grin that makes me take pity on you.”
“When someone basically says thank you, maybe don’t follow that up by insulting them.” Shep placed three cards, face up, in the center of the table. “Just a suggestion.”
“This is why so many guys in town are scared of you,” Easton said with a laugh.
She clucked her tongue. “They are not.”
The other half of the table nodded, and Tucker found himself nodding even though he hadn’t lived in town for the better part of two years. It’d been like that since high school, with Addie intimidating anyone who dared cross her path, and the selfish part of him was glad no one had come in and swept her off her feet. Not that she would ever let some guy do the sweeping. A few had probably tried, with her completely oblivious. With her dirty blond hair that was forever in a ponytail, the smattering of freckles across her nose, her big brown eyes, and the fact that she was cool as hell, it was surprising she’d stayed mostly single.
Ford pinned her with a look. “Addie, when dudes come in to see you for physical therapy, you tell them to stop crying over something your grandma could do.”
“Well, she could! My nonna is tougher than most of the crybabies who come in whining about their injuries. They don’t wanna put in the work it takes to get over them and fully heal. Telling them my grandma could do the things I’m instructing them to do is motivating.”
“Not to ask you out,” Ford said, and snickers went around the table.
“Very funny. Being scared of me and being undateable are two different things.”
“You’re hardly undateable,” Tucker said, the words similar to exchanges they’d had in high school.
“Yeah, but it’s nearly impossible to find someone who doesn’t already know too much about me—or me about him—and even if I manage that, then I introduce him to you guys, and things unravel pretty quickly after that.”
“Maybe with one of us gettin’ hitched, we’ll be less intimidating.” Shep dealt the turn and they started a round of betting.
“I’m sure it’s me,” Addie muttered. “Now, do you guys want to talk about my pathetic dating life, or do y’all want me to finish taking your money?”
“Wow, what great options,” Tucker deadpanned. “Not sure why anyone would be scared of you. Couldn’t be all the threats.”
She turned those brown eyes on him and cocked an eyebrow. “Listen, city boy. Maybe you can just flash your shiny car and some Benjamins to get your way where you live, but here we still live and die by the same code.”
He leaned in, challenge firing in his veins. “And that is…?”
“Loser buys beer next time. And/or acts as designated driver.”
“And sleeps on the breakfast bar,” Easton added, jerking his chin toward the hard
wood bench they’d taken turns crashing out on at one time or another. There were only so many sleeping spots in the houseboat. Winner and runner-up got the bed, and third place landed the couch.
“Oh, man.” Shep rubbed his lower back. “I don’t think I’ve recovered from the last time I passed out there.” He took the top card off the deck, revealing the river, and Tucker watched faces for signs of what cards they had or were hoping for and if they’d gotten it.
The guys folded after he doubled the bet, and then it came down to him and Addie.
“Poker’s so much better with all of us here,” she said.
“Trying to distract me?” Tucker asked. “’Cause it won’t work.”
She laughed. “No, just telling the truth. We’ve tried to play with people from everyone’s respective jobs, or some other rando who wants in when they hear we play poker, and it always sucks. And it’s never as interesting with just four.”
Ford shifted forward in his seat. “Remember Buck? That guy never shut up.”
“And thanks to you”—Tucker gave Ford’s shoulder a shove—“we already have the loudmouth position filled.”
Ford flipped him off and then let out a loud burp. “He also scratched his balls even more than Easton does.”
“Hey,” Easton said. “When you’ve got balls this size, it requires constant adjustment.”
Addie took a swig of her beer. “Buck wasn’t as bad as that Yank Shep brought over. That dude didn’t even know how to play.”
“That Yank happens to be my cousin,” Shep said. “And it’s not like I wanted to bring him. My mamma insisted, and it was easier to drag him along than argue with her.”
