Just One of the Groomsmen

by Cindi Madsen

  And still she’d feel disheartened and slightly rejected at the end of it.

  If things were meh with Tucker? Her stomach knotted. She wasn’t very worried on her end, but—as she’d been thinking about way too much lately—most of his girlfriends exuded sexiness without even trying.

  If the spark misfired, would that cause a chemical reaction in their friendship, and would it be bad enough to destroy it?

  Could they honestly go from seeing each other naked and adding that whole new level of intimacy, to fizzling out, to sitting in his houseboat and joking around and playing poker with the rest of the guys, things completely easy and normal again?

  Seemed highly unlikely, with a side of nearly impossible, which had her wondering if she should hit the brakes now, before they could crash.

  All her worries buzzed through her head, and then she wished that if she had to doubt something, it wouldn’t be the one thing she was starting to want more than anything.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It’d been ridiculously hard for Tucker to see Addie this week. There’d been dancing on Wednesday night, but earlier that day he’d finally pulled the trigger on announcing he was open for boat repairs—i.e., he’d told Lottie, and the woman was nothing if not efficient at spreading the word.

  With the news also out about him taking on clients, a surprising number of Uncertainty citizens had come to see him.

  Mrs. Jenson made him a sign, one he stuck on a post and placed at the end of the houseboat dock. Legal clients on the right, boat repair inquiries on the left.

  Funny how many people ignored the huge sign, but between that and digging into the cases he’d taken on—and piecing together the stack of files that Flash had destroyed one night—he’d been nonstop for days.

  At the end of each night, Addie texted him questions that’d become a running joke between them. “Which department have I reached? Boating or legal?”

  His replies varied. “What needs repaired, ma’am, because I’m sure I have something that’d fix it,” “Would you like to debrief me?” “Do you need a conjugal visit arranged?” etc., etc.

  So far, there’d only been one day where he’d had more boat inquiries, but legal still outweighed it four to one.

  Then, after a guilt-trip phone call from his mom about how he was so close now and still hadn’t come to see her, he’d gone down to Montgomery to have dinner with her and her husband. It was nice enough, and it was good to see Mom, even though she’d been less than enthusiastic when he told her he was taking on some legal cases in Uncertainty.

  She, like Dad, thought he should at least commute to somewhere he could “actually make enough money to support a family.” As if he hadn’t already been stressed enough about how far he was from his goals.

  Meanwhile, he and Addie had continued to flirt via text, and he’d called her last night on the drive home just to hear her voice, because it turned out he was sappier than he’d realized.

  The way he practically skipped toward the Old Firehouse on Sunday night only made a stronger case to support that theory.

  The second he stepped inside the bar, he scanned the tables, anticipation zinging through his veins.

  The rest of the guys had already arrived, and Addie sat right in the middle of the group, wearing those fucking overalls.

  She glanced up and gave him a smile that sent him from revved to supercharged.

  “Are you Tucker Crawford?” came from his right, and he was all set to ignore it, unable to hear another case or boat request or any other damn thing until he got his hands on Addie. But then the guy stepped into his path. “I asked if you’re—”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” He cataloged the button-down shirt, designer jeans, and shiny shoes that must require constant maintenance with all the dust around town. The air of superiority that the guy propagated himself. “You must be the city-slicker lawyer I’ve heard so much about.”

  “Justin Matthews,” the guy smugly said, clearly proud his reputation preceded him.

  The nerve, thinking he could come in and make a name for himself by being a shark in a small town of friendly folk.

  “I suppose I should thank you. Since you only care about winning, I have more clients than I can shake a stick at. Now if you’ll excuse me, I also have a game to catch.”

  The guy thrust out his hand and slapped it to Tucker’s chest as he started by—evidently, he had a death wish.

  “Runnin’ short on patience here, buddy,” Tucker said. “Spit it out or get outta my way.”

  “They might come to you now, but I have a better case record. I know all about your stint in Birmingham, and I’m not letting go of my practice here. Henry Pike’s supposed to retire in two years and leave me to it.”

  “Well, you know what they say in the lawyer biz. Shit happens. But sure, do your worst and all that. I’m real scared.”

  Addie walked over and shoved her hands deep in her oversize pockets, and he could see through the gap that the shirt underneath was tight and black and 100 percent in need of removal later tonight. “You guys done with your pissin’ contest yet? I’m about to order food and drinks.”

  The lawyer looked her up and down, and his pinched features left Tucker selfishly glad she’d worn the overalls. “Addison Murphy. And I thought you dressed down at the office.”

  “Not anymore, thanks to something I’m sure you said. Need me to check on your shoulder?” She cracked her knuckles. “I’d love to.”

  “I’ll pass. I was just informing Mr. Crawford that I don’t plan on letting go of the law practice, and that I don’t want a partner.”

  Addie nodded at him and then turned to Tucker. “Bet you took that pretty hard, considerin’ you don’t wanna work at that law office anyhow.”

  He curved his hand around the bill of his trusty, worn Saints cap. “Real broken up about it.”

  “Come on, then. I’ll buy you a beer.” She took his hand, and a calming warmth washed through him.

  To see the stunned expression on the asshole lawyer’s face, he would gladly ask her to swoop in and “save” him any day.

  “You’d better be doing your exercises on that shoulder, Matthews,” she fired back. “I have ways of finding out if you’re not.”

  With that, she tugged Tucker toward the bar.

  He wanted to lace his fingers with hers, curl her close, and kiss the hell out of her.

  Unfortunately too many people were giving them curious looks. She dropped his hand and leaned her forearms on the bar, calling out an order for a pitcher of beer, wings, and a giant order of onion rings.

  She glanced back at him. “Uh, make that French fries please.”

  He hoped that meant there’d be a lot of kissing in their future.

  It was going to take every ounce of his self-control to suffer through the game without getting his mouth on her. It’d been so long he could hardly remember the taste of her lips, and that simply wouldn’t do.

  They headed to the table and caught up with the guys, and as the game got going, they ate and hollered at the TV and did the usual Sunday afternoon thing.

  He’d stuck to one beer in the first quarter so nothing would hamper their getting the hell out of Dodge the second the game was over.

  The Falcons pulled ahead of the Pats halfway through the third. It was the one matchup where he reluctantly cheered for Atlanta, and a happy Addie added extra motivation to join in on the celebration.

  Among the cries and cheers, Tucker circled around behind Addie in the name of seeing the game better. The table was at least partially blocking them, so he slipped his hand inside the large gap in her overalls.

  She sucked in a breath, and he pushed closer to her stool as he leaned over and braced a palm on the table. “These aren’t really working at keeping my thoughts out of the gutter,” he whispered, and then he slipped his hand under
her T-shirt and dragged it across the smooth skin of her stomach.

  He spread his fingers until his thumb brushed the bottom of her bra, and his rapid pulse pounded through his head.

  He swallowed, hard, his desire moving into need territory. “Bonus, they provide excellent cover.”

  She reached in from the other side, covering his hand with hers, and he thought she was going to stop his progress or tell him they needed to be good.

  But instead she tipped her head to the side, and when everyone else was busy cheering for the wide receiver who was running the ball, her lips brushed his jawline. “Your hat’s not as much of a deterrent as I thought it’d be, either. Then again, you’re still wearing it on your head, and not—”

  He pushed against her, his arousal lined right up with her ass, and she gripped the edge of the table.

  His pinkie skirted the top of her panties, and when he arrived at the spot over her hip, all he felt was one blessedly tiny string of fabric. “You’re not wearing good girl underwear,” he said low in her ear, and if he didn’t keep himself in check, he’d throw caution to the wind, capture her mouth with his and kiss her in front of everyone, and then drag her into the bar bathroom.

  Their first time couldn’t be in a bar bathroom.

  Then again, who was he to go pretending he had scruples? Kinda hard to do with his hand down Addie’s pants.

  …

  Delicious, intoxicating heat danced across Addie’s skin, and the ache forming between her thighs demanded she do something about it, and soon.

  She batted her eyes at Tucker, feigning innocence, and then she shrugged a shoulder and said, “Oh. I’m not really a good girl.”

  His harsh exhale stirred her hair and zapped every single one of her nerve endings.

  She’d never expected to feel sexy in the overalls. She’d worn them as an inside joke.

  Right now it felt like the best inside joke ever.

  Tucker’s calloused fingertips dragged over her hip bone, and her nipples strained against the lacy bra she’d worn, just in case. Screw slow, her body said, and her brain began saying it, too.

  They’d known each other forever and you only lived once and—she bit her lip against the hum of pleasure that tried to escape when he stroked the spot where her hip met her thigh.

  The guys turned back to comment on a play, and Tucker’s hand stilled. He managed to say something that sounded about right, but all she could do was nod.

  Shep glanced at her, obviously expecting commentary that for the life of her she couldn’t come up with, even though Tucker had covertly withdrawn his hand. “Are you okay?”

  She shot to her feet, so quickly the stool rocked. “Tucker and I have to go.”

  Ford’s confused expression joined Shep’s, but Easton’s spoke to suspicions and the desire to turn an interrogator’s spotlight on them.

  Or maybe she just felt guilty.

  “You’re leaving before the end of the game?” Ford asked.

  “I, uh…” She struggled for words, cursing them for being so damn slippery when she needed them most. “My grandma texted, and I have to go check on her. It looks like Atlanta’s going to pull off this win, too, so…”

  Crap. That didn’t explain why Tucker needed to come.

  “She’s had too many beers to drive,” he said, placing his hand on her lower back. Then he quickly dropped it. “So I’m going to take her.”

  “Right. Because we’re responsible adults.”

  “Well, I’d hate to arrest two of my best friends, so that’s good,” Easton deadpanned.

  Yeah, he was definitely onto them, which almost made her hesitate to follow through, but they were already neck deep in the lie, and when it came down to it, she was too turned on to care.

  She needed Tucker’s hands on her and for him to kiss her, and if she allowed her thoughts to continue down that path much further, she’d spontaneously combust in the bar.

  If the Falcons hadn’t set up to kick a field goal, they would’ve been busted for sure, but as the attention swiveled back to the game, she and Tucker took the opportunity to call out their goodbyes and rush out of the bar.

  Tucker guided her to the driver’s side of his truck, then practically launched her inside with a firm hand on her butt.

  He slid in right beside her, fired up his truck, and peeled out of the parking lot.

  “I’m totally going to hell for using my grandma as an excuse to go have sex with my best friend,” she said.

  He circled her thigh with his big hand, slowly drifting higher and higher. “As the best friend you’re about to have sex with, I’m okay with that.”

  “Ah! You’re okay with me going to hell?”

  “Addes, I’m way too turned on for trick questions.”

  “It’s not a trick question, it’s—”

  He kissed her, slowing the truck as they turned down the winding dirt path that led to the houseboat. Even with half his attention on the road, he kissed better than anyone else.

  The second he threw his truck into park, she climbed onto his lap and slanted her mouth over his. He gripped her hips and arched against her, and then she was cursing the bulky denim between them.

  “Too many clothes,” she said.

  “I agree.” He quickly undid the straps of her overalls before his mouth recaptured hers.

  His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt, and when his hand moved up to palm her breast, his thumb brushing the lace over her hardened nipple, she let out an embarrassingly loud moan.

  The groan that ripped from his mouth as she rocked against him came out even louder, and then it was almost like a competition. Whose sounds of pleasure could outdo the other.

  The nice thing about this competition would be that no matter what, they both won.

  Sticky, humid air hit her as he pushed open the door of his truck. He readjusted his grip on her, and she wasn’t sure how he got them both out of the vehicle without them tumbling to the ground.

  As far as she was concerned, the ground was as okay a spot as any, as long as more clothes came off.

  Thanks to the straps of her overalls sliding down, down, down, her pants were barely hanging on, and most of that was due to the fact she had her legs wrapped around Tucker’s waist.

  Flash greeted them with barking and jumping and general pay-attention-to-me tactics the second they came through the door.

  “He’s gonna be relentless,” Tucker said, setting her down. “Lately he’s taken to tearing everything apart, too, so just give me one second.”

  He grabbed treats and Flash’s toys and led the hyper dog onto the deck. He scratched the puppy’s ears and tummy and then tossed him a treat and stepped back into the cabin, closing the door behind him.

  He looked so big and sexy, taking up all the space and the oxygen, and she’d just thoroughly groped and made out with her best friend. He’d had his hands on her breasts and she’d felt every inch of his hard body.

  Weird.

  Or maybe it was weird that it wasn’t weirder.

  What if it waited until tomorrow to show up and it was too late to do anything about it? Apprehension rose up to poke at her now that her body wasn’t plastered to his.

  He grabbed hold of one of her fallen shoulder straps and reeled her over to him. “Check-in time?” he asked, and she nodded, worried he thought it was weird and even more worried that following through would bring more weirdness—or worse, disappointment. “We don’t have to rush, and we don’t even have to do this tonight.” He cupped her cheek. “No pressure, okay?”

  She nodded again, because that was all she could seem to do. “Is this weird to you?”

  “‘Weird’ isn’t the word I’d use. Unbelievable. Intoxicating. Amazing—take your pick. We always have a great time together, no matter what we do, so I shouldn’t be surprised a
t how addictive kissing you is, but damn.”

  His gaze raked over her, fanning the still-burning embers and sending need pinging through her once again.

  “Clearly I have trouble keeping my hands off you,” he said. “I got a little carried away in the bar.”

  “Me too. I guess I’m really not a good girl.”

  Tucker moved his thumb under her chin, using it to tip her face up as he brought his mouth down over hers.

  He drew out the kiss, paying attention to her top lip and then her lower one, and then finally sliding his tongue against hers.

  The world spun out of focus, everything narrowing to the feel of his lips and whiskers and his strong hands and his muscles and the way they twitched underneath her fingertips.

  She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him until the necessity for air overtook everything else.

  A quick sip of oxygen and she’d dive back in.

  Tucker pressed his forehead to hers and sucked in a deep breath. “You make me want things I’m not sure I’m ready for.”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for them, either,” she whispered.

  He brushed his mouth over hers, not kissing but leaving it there as words fell from his lips to hers. “What I do know is, if there’s anyone I want by my side when I try something crazy, it’s you.”

  “So kissing me—being with me—is crazy?”

  “Hell yeah,” he said, and when he reclaimed her lips, everything inside her went so crazy she couldn’t disagree.

  Give her more crazy.

  He backed her up against the nearest wall, his large body pinning her in place. His tongue swept inside her mouth and every other thought besides, mmm, yes, and more fled right from her head.

  She circled his wrists with her hands and peered into those familiar blue eyes. Eyes that’d been a comfort to her for so long she couldn’t remember life without them. “I’m done going slow. I want this. I want us.”

  A heady smile curved his lips, sending her heart fluttering.

  She reached up and knocked off his hat.

  He yanked down her overalls, the metal buttons and fasteners jingling when they hit the floor. Then he peeled off her T-shirt, leaving her in the same bra she’d accidentally flashed him in and the matching black panties.