Just One of the Groomsmen

by Cindi Madsen

  He grinned and nudged her toward the bathroom, and moments before the rush of hot water hit her, she heard him talking to Flash.

  The guy was ridiculously adorable, although she doubted he’d appreciate her using that adjective.

  She rushed through the shower and came out wrapped in a towel.

  Sunlight streamed through the windows, highlighting every dip and groove in Tucker’s gloriously bare torso, and she nearly melted at the adoring expression he aimed her way.

  Flash came bounding over, and despite the fact that he’d have to really jump to get it and she didn’t think he could hit that height yet, she secured the towel tighter.

  She eyed the clothes still strewn on the floor. “What am I going to wear? It’s not like I can wear my overalls to work.”

  Tucker lifted the skillet off the stove and divided the scrambled eggs between two plates. “What if you added a tie? I’ve got a shit-ton of ties.” His eyebrows knitted together as he glanced around. “Or did I put that box in storage?”

  “Somehow, I’m thinking a tie won’t help. Not with Moody Overlord’s new obsession with a dress code.” She gathered up yesterday’s clothes and made do with a too-big pair of Tucker’s warm-up pants.

  Even after cinching the drawstring as tight as it’d go, she had to roll the waist twice, and one good tug from Flash and she’d lose them for sure. Which meant she’d better have Tucker drop her at home before going in to work, which was going to make her late, not to mention might raise a few eyebrows.

  Hopefully people would think they’d just been playing crack-of-dawn football or fishing or something.

  After shoveling down breakfast, the three of them climbed in his truck—Flash insisted on coming along, and as Tucker drove into town, the puppy couldn’t decide if he wanted to be on Addie’s lap getting petted or if he wanted to balance on the window and get a face full of fresh air.

  With him being so tiny, Addie worried he might fall out, so she gripped his back legs the entire time, despite it leaving his wagging tail right under her nose.

  “Remember how Casper wouldn’t let me sit between you and him?” Addie said. “But he’d try to climb on your lap while you were driving, so then I tried to get him on my lap so you wouldn’t wreck us, but he’d only stay there if I sat bitch. He was freaking heavy, too.”

  One corner of Tucker’s mouth lifted. “And if I put him in the bed, he’d cry the entire time.”

  “Oh, and then there was that day we played baseball in the rain. He’d been out digging, and the three of us were coated in mud, so you decided he might as well join us in the cab anyhow. He’d gone from a white lab to a crusty chocolate one.”

  She laughed, but her sense of humor over the incident faded as she remembered walking into Tucker’s house the same way they’d done hundreds of times, only to hear a huge fight between his parents.

  Her mom and dad had argued here and there, but she’d never heard insults quite so cutting, with so much venom behind them that they stung her, too.

  Then they’d been discovered, and that anger got turned on them.

  “You’re thinking about how my dad yelled at us, aren’t you?”

  “No,” Addie quickly said, and at Tucker’s skeptical look, she came clean. “Yeah. I’d never seen him like that. Either of your parents.”

  She’d frozen, unsure what to do, and Tucker had stepped in front of her, acting as a shield as his dad ripped into them.

  Then Mrs. Crawford had yelled at Mr. Crawford, telling him he could stuff his “my roof, my rules” lecture, since he couldn’t even pay the mortgage.

  “They’d hidden it pretty well before that—usually I was the only one lucky enough to hear it.” Tucker tightened his grip on the wheel, and his words came out careful and measured. “Dad was months late on the mortgage yet again, and they’d discussed trying to sell even though my mom never wanted to, and the mud we’d tracked in was the last straw, I’m sure.”

  “Well, we were crazy muddy. My mom wouldn’t have been happy, either.”

  “Yeah, but she’d hose us off and offer us food while she continued to scold us.”

  Not embarrass her and then ground her, Tucker meant, which was his punishment, along with her being banished from his house for what seemed like forever.

  It was summer, and two weeks without being allowed to hang out was torture—especially since he’d already spent so much of it with his grandpa.

  Even after the ban lifted, he’d been withdrawn, and rumors about his parents’ divorce followed shortly after. She’d tried to be there for him, but there’d been times when she wondered if she was ever getting her friend back.

  Or if he’d have to move away before that happened.

  The bank eventually foreclosed on their house and he and his dad—who never appreciated Tucker enough for what a kind, strong person he was, in her opinion—had to move into a cramped, rundown one-bedroom apartment.

  One night she and Tucker had an intense talk where he confessed to feeling homeless, even though he’d added he was grateful he had a roof over his head and knew plenty of people had it worse.

  Since Addie could sense him drifting from her at the memory, going to that place where he closed himself off, she quickly changed the subject. “Did you have any pets in Birmingham? It seems wrong to think of you without a dog by your side.”

  Tucker cracked a smile and reached over to scratch Flash’s back. “Nah. I didn’t have time for a goldfish, much less a dog. I didn’t want to get one, only to have it be cooped up all the time.”

  “Like you were cooped up?”

  “Exactly. Flash and I need space.”

  She hoped that was literal, countrified space.

  Thanks to pushing the speed limit, they made it to her house in record time. Instead of driving off, Tucker insisted on taking her to work, since he had errands to run in town anyway.

  One quick wardrobe change later, and they arrived in front of the clinic that housed the physical therapy office. Addie wanted to lean across the bench seat for a goodbye kiss, but way too many people were out and about, and while she was starting to care less and less if they knew, Tucker had made it clear he wanted to keep them a secret.

  So she kissed the top of Flash’s head and said, “Pass it on.” She pointed to Tucker, and the puppy bounced over there and licked his hand.

  “For the record, mine wasn’t that sloppy.” She pushed out the door and rounded the front of the truck.

  “Not sure I believe you,” Tucker called out his open window. “I might need to collect more evidence later. In fact, why don’t you text me when you take your lunch, and if I’m still around, we can grab a bite.”

  “Sounds good.” With that, she gave him one more wave and rushed into the building, hoping and praying her boss wasn’t in yet. Usually he came in on the later side.

  Of course she wasn’t that lucky.

  The instant she stepped inside the office, a whole twenty-five minutes late, her boss crossed his arms.

  “Nice of you to finally join us,” Mr. Watkins said.

  No excuse seemed good enough, and yes, it was unprofessional to be late, but it was the first time in years, and she had a really sexy excuse.

  Mr. Watkins launched into a lecture about what he expected from his employees, and how he’d taken a chance on her, and asked his favorite question about if her name was on the door.

  And while she would’ve loved to turn and walk right back out, not even the Moody Overlord could put a dent in her mood.

  A nod and a few answers he wanted to hear, and she managed to escape to a quiet room.

  While she checked out the day’s schedule, Addie relived last night in her mind. Tucker feeling her up in the bar; she and Tucker ripping each other’s clothes off; sex and ice cream and a movie and waking up to more sex and breakfast and gah…


  Happiness filled her up, head to toe.

  We slept together and it wasn’t weird and we’re better than okay, and maybe…

  She was almost scared to think it, as if that might summon some unforeseen issue.

  But they’d been friends for a lifetime, and last night was amazing, so she went ahead and let herself finish the thought.

  Maybe this could turn into a whole lot more.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tucker had looked at two different boats, and he answered Tula Brigg’s question about whether she could force the town to give her a new address, considering high school kids were always posting pictures in front of hers: 69 Ultimate Court.

  At first she was flattered, thinking they were showing off her beautiful floral landscaping on those “instachat snap things” to all their friends, but then her neighbor Gertie told her why—apparently because she was jealous her flowers never did as well—and now Tula wanted her address changed ASAP.

  When he’d told her he couldn’t change an address because it was, well, a set place on the earth, she muttered “and they say you’re a good lawyer” before storming off.

  From there he’d picked up supplies from the local hardware store to complete the boat repair jobs he’d taken on, and while he was in there, the owner asked if he would take a peek at his lease agreement and find some wiggle room so he could move the store to a different location, one that wasn’t so “damned expensive.”

  By the time Tucker pushed into the diner, it felt like it’d been hours since breakfast.

  He inhaled the mouthwatering aroma of food on the grill, and since he had Flash in tow and he was hardly a well-behaved dog, he headed to the patio area to find a table.

  He momentarily worried having lunch with Addie would get tongues wagging, but considering they’d eaten enough hamburgers and fries at the diner to feed an army through the years, he realized he was being ridiculous.

  After how well things went last night, he was thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for people to know. Let them talk.

  Plenty would claim they always knew he and Addie would happen, even though neither one of them had.

  A grin spread across his face as he thought about Flash stealing that sheet from her. Surges of heat immediately followed, as the image of her naked and in the middle of the houseboat cabin popped into his mind.

  Then he was thinking of her naked and underneath him, her dark hair spread out on the pillow.

  The sounds she’d made. The way she kissed.

  And that was only the start of the amazingness.

  Last night he’d felt deeper things than he’d ever felt with anyone before, and the fact that afterward they could alternate between laughing and talking and cuddling and kissing while they watched a movie made it even more amazing.

  It was everything he didn’t even know he was looking for and more.

  Could we really have it all? An amazing easy friendship on top of a passionate, ridiculously fun relationship?

  Eventually he’d need to find a long-term place to live, but that would require fully establishing his business. He wasn’t sure how long he could run a law office out of his houseboat, although that would certainly help cut overhead.

  And when he and Addie wanted to have some fun without bumping and bruising themselves along the way, they could go to her place.

  “They said you were out here.” Addie bent over and ruffled Flash’s fur. “I assume that’s because this guy can’t behave?”

  Tucker’s gaze lingered on Addie’s ass, right there in front of his face, and it seemed a shame not to do something about that. He glanced around, and when the coast was clear, he gave it a quick pinch, gratified when she squealed.

  “I guess neither one of us can behave.” He pushed out the chair next to his with his foot, and after she settled into it, he squeezed her knee under the table. “Did you get in trouble for bein’ late?”

  “I got a lecture that I would’ve gotten for one reason or another. You’d be so proud of me, though. I was so happy I just let it roll right off me.”

  He dragged his thumb across her knee. “I’m happy, too.”

  The waitress came out to take their order, then brought their food shortly after. Other than that, thanks to the unseasonably warm afternoon, they were alone, save the people who wandered past on the sidewalk, most of whom they exchanged a friendly nod or hello with.

  But then a familiar figure strode down the sidewalk, and everything inside of Tucker turned to stone.

  This was the perfect example of speak of the devil, a few hours late or not.

  Addie cocked her head, obviously noticing the mood shift, and as soon as she saw his dad, he could see she’d pieced together why.

  “There you are,” Dad said. Admittedly, Tucker had been ducking his calls ever since he’d returned to town. “I ran into Lottie, and she told me you two were here at the diner. Guess some things never change.”

  Apparently the town busybody’s comment about wifi and smartphones hadn’t been a bluff—news traveled even faster than it used to, and that was almost as impressive as it was alarming.

  Instead of bothering with going through the diner, Dad stepped over the short wrought-iron fence and pulled out one of the seats. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Fair warning,” Addie said, “I have to get back to work in about five minutes, so don’t think I’m leavin’ on your account.”

  Considering the reason Dad most likely showed up unannounced, Tucker might leave on his account.

  Dad flashed her a wide smile, and Tucker wrapped his fingers tighter around her knee. “Good to see you, Addison.”

  “You too, Mr. Crawford.” She did a good job of pretending she’d forgotten the past and that afternoon they’d recalled earlier today, but after Dad yelled at her, she was cautious around him, and she’d once sworn that if he moved Tucker away, she’d never—“and I mean never”—forgive him.

  She covered Tucker’s hand with hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze, a silent way of telling him she was fine and—as usual—could take care of herself.

  Dad made small talk, asking after her parents and grandmother and her job. Tucker would never say he and his dad were especially close, but they used to be closer before he was forever pushing him to make more money.

  His constant attempts to get him to sell the houseboat and Grandpa’s shed and boat, including the rough plot of land they sat on, only widened the rift between them.

  After he’d started his job at the law firm, it seemed like all Dad ever asked about was the salary and what he could do to move up the ladder faster.

  Tucker had once asked if he needed money, figuring that was why he kept on mentioning it, but he’d said that now he was happily divorced, he could make it just fine.

  Although Tucker had never made an official stance on which side he took in the divorce, he’d accidentally taken Dad’s the tiniest bit. Probably because he was the one left behind when Mom bounced back so quickly, and maybe even because the rumors made him wonder, too.

  “I’d better get going,” Addie said, scooting out her chair. She twisted toward him, cutting Dad off from the conversation, and voice low, asked, “Will you be okay?”

  Just her asking made the amount of trepidation he’d experienced since Dad took a seat across from him feel silly.

  He was a grown man. He could make his own decisions.

  He brushed his thumb across the top of her cheek, warmth winding through him that she knew him that well and that she cared enough to check on him.

  “I’m fine. Have a good rest of the day, and I’ll call you later.” He wanted to kiss her, but now he was thinking once again about the town gossip and how corrosive it could be.

  It’ll make it that much sweeter once we no longer have an audience.

  Addie also forewent going throu
gh the diner, easily launching herself over the fence and then muttering, “Damn, I miss my yoga pants and sneakers.”

  Tucker watched until she rounded the corner, and when he returned his attention to Dad, his expression had gotcha! written across it.

  “I guess I spoke too soon when I said some things never change. I’m surprised Lottie didn’t tell me you were dating Addison Murphy. Seems like big news.”

  “We’re not…” Denying it didn’t settle right with him, although if they were going to make it official, there were a handful of people who needed to be told before it spread through town. “It’s no one’s business, but it’s new, and I’d appreciate if you kept it to yourself.”

  “Is she the reason you came back?”

  Now that he thought about it, he wondered if his subconscious knew something he hadn’t when he’d decided to quit his job after one amazing night in Uncertainty. “She’s one of them. Along with the rest of the guys, and the town. The people need me here, Dad. I can make a difference.”

  “You’ll never make as much money here as you could pretty much anywhere else. Just pick a law firm, one in a closer city, and you can visit here on the weekends.”

  “I know money is important to you, but it’s not everything to me.”

  “That’s easy to say until you don’t have any. Until you’re struggling for every penny and running out of money halfway through the month, and the stress eats at you day and night. And what about if you and Addison get serious? The houseboat might seem charming now, but it’ll get old fast.”

  His chest tightened, his unmet goals pressing in to remind him yet again he hadn’t come close to meeting them yet.

  To gaining the financial security he’d craved since he and his family had to live without it—the same security he’d sworn to have before jumping into a relationship. “Addie doesn’t care about that stuff.”

  Dad laughed, a mirthless laugh with a sharp edge of cynicism and cruelty. “Oh, son. All women care about that. Her tastes might be simpler, and yeah, that’ll work in your favor in your current situation, but she wants stability just as much as the next girl.”