Batter of Wits: An Enemies to Lovers Small Town Romance (Donner Bakery Book 5)

by Smartypants Romance

  Why did he have to be so handsome? And good? He seemed like such a good person.

  He probably helped little old ladies cross the road. Definitely climbed ladders to pull kittens out of trees.

  Lost in the thought of Tucker holding a tiny gray kitten in those big, big arms, I picked up a butternut squash and tried to imagine anything else.

  "I heard that Haywood boy just went and dumped her," someone said behind me.

  I jumped, the squash fumbled dangerously in my hands, and I clutched it to my chest so it didn't meet an untimely and messy doom on the floor of the Piggly Wiggly. As I set it down, very, very carefully, I slowed my movements so that I could strain to hear what she said next.

  "No," her friend gasped quietly. "Those two have been together forever."

  "Mmmhmmm, since they were seventeen."

  My mind raced, another dangerous fumbling that I couldn't stop. He'd broken up with her?

  The two women pushed their carts in my direction, and I picked up a tomato and brought it to my nose. Did people smell tomatoes?

  "And you're sure he did the breaking?"

  A halting breath caught in my throat as I waited for her to answer. I couldn't pinpoint why, but it felt very important to hear the answer to that question.

  Friend number one clucked her tongue. "Sure did. I heard it from Belle Cooper, you know she's Tucker's great aunt. She heard the whole story from Gloria."

  "That poor girl. She was head over heels for him."

  My face dropped as I set the tomato down. I thought of the pink ribbon in Magnolia's hair, the pink fingernails resting comfortably on Tucker's arm while I tried not to puke at the sight of her. Stupid, stupid family curse.

  "Oh, I don't know about that. I think she's got just enough of her daddy in her, that she just doesn't like losing anything she didn't choose to lose for herself." The woman came right up next to me and gave me a polite smile. "'Scuse me, honey, can I reach for some of those tomatoes?"

  "Sorry," I mumbled and pushed my cart out of the way.

  They both eyed me curiously, without a single attempt to try and hide their conversation even though I was standing next to them.

  "Well, you're probably right about that. Besides, there's probably a line of boys from here to Maryville who're half in love with Magnolia MacIntyre. She's probably conducting interviews for replacements already."

  Her friend laughed. "Thank the good Lord above she got her momma's looks."

  They tittered about that while I picked up a few Pink Lady apples and put them in a bag. I felt the weight of someone's stare on me as I did, and I looked over my shoulder, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  "Oh heavens, she's right there," one hissed in a low whisper. "Do you think she heard us?"

  "Look at her, Lord have mercy, she's wearing leggings." Friend number two made a sad clucking sound. What was it with southern women and the tongue cluck? "That poor thing. She looks terrible."

  My head whipped around, because she said the word leggings like it was a four-letter word you'd never say in front of your grandmother. That's when I saw her. Standing in front of the cheese section, hair wild and curly around her head, not a stitch of makeup on her beautiful face, a simple white shirt covering her torso, and her legs were, indeed, covered in black leggings.

  But Magnolia wasn't looking at cheese. She was looking at me.

  Then she started walking in my direction. No, not walking, marching.

  "Ohhhhhhh boy," I whispered.

  The two women looked between the two of us, back and forth, like we were swatting a tennis ball.

  "I know you," she said.

  I swallowed roughly. Maybe the ground would swallow me up. Somehow, I managed a nod. "We met the other night, I was getting ice cream."

  There were dark circles under those mesmerizing eyes, and even with the smooth, golden color of her skin, she looked pale and exhausted. She sniffed and swept her gaze from the top of my head to the toes on my boots. "Grace, right?"

  "Right. It's, uh, it's nice to see you again."

  "Have you seen him?" she asked, voice catching on the last word.

  Oh, a sinkhole would be so convenient. A really, really big sinkhole that went straight to fricken China.

  "H-have I seen who?" I asked. I knew though, and I sent up a little prayer for the blatant lies I was about to tell if she asked me anything about her brand-new ex-boyfriend. The two women huddled by their carts, watching us with unconcealed interest. I glared at them over my shoulder, but it didn't register in the slightest.

  When I turned my attention back to the hot mess in front of me, Magnolia blinked slowly, and I had the strangest urge to wrap my arms around her and take her somewhere around the corner where the town gossips couldn't see her.

  "Tucker," she said. "Have you seen Tucker since yesterday morning? You seem to … you seem to be popping up everywhere lately."

  But as I watched her, saw the way she wrapped an arm around her waist, like she was holding all her emotions inside with that one arm, I found that I couldn't lie.

  I nodded slowly. "My brother and I saw him at Donner Bakery around lunch-time." I licked my lips and let out a slow breath. "But I didn't talk to him long. I went home."

  Magnolia held my gaze steadily as I spoke, a human lie detector if I'd ever seen one. She must have seen the truth in my face, because she exhaled shakily, her eyes turning glassy as she blinked. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I can't pull myself together."

  The women parked by the tomatoes whispered, and I popped a hand on my hip and turned my head in their direction. "Don't you two have something better to do?"

  Friend number two huffed, friend number one blushed, and if I'd ever seen someone push a cart haughtily, it was those two.

  "Well, I never," number one whispered to her friend.

  "There's a first time for everything, ladies," I called to their backs.

  When they were out of earshot, I turned back to Magnolia, who was swiping at her cheeks.

  "Thank you," she whispered, giving me a grateful smile.

  I shrugged, a sharp, distinct feeling of discomfort unrolling through my body at her gratitude. This woman had no reason to feel any sort of thanks toward me. It was vain for me to assume that her current relationship status had something to do with me, even if she didn't realize it.

  On the end cap by the tomatoes was a display of wine, and I leaned forward to grab a decent pinot noir. I looked at the label before handing it to her.

  "Try this one. I think that the alcohol percentage is just about right for a breakup."

  Magnolia exhaled a watery laugh. "It might be. I should probably grab two."

  I handed her another one, and she set it straight into her cart.

  "I'm sorry," I told her. There was no way she could've guessed why I was saying it, or the true reason. She might never. But it felt like it needed to be said, nonetheless.

  She let go of her midriff. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Grace. It was time, I just didn't want to admit it."

  There was nothing about her words meant to comfort me. They were said for her, for her situation, and nothing about them was intended to make me feel better. But I still felt some of the pressure ease around my chest.

  From behind Magnolia, my dad gave me an uneasy smile, clearly not wanting to interrupt. Of course, he wouldn't, I thought, this was his boss' daughter, and if those women had heard about what happened, he'd probably heard the same.

  Facebook had nothin’ on the way information traveled in a small town.

  Before I could think twice about it, I leaned forward and gave her a tight hug. “Drink a lot of water and take two Advil after you’re done with that wine.”

  At first, she patted my back. It was such an awkward pat too, that I tried not to panic laugh before I pulled away. Then she softened into my embrace and let out a shuddering exhale. Her face was curious when she answered. “I will.”

  Magnolia gave me a small smile as I walked away.
The women from before hit me with some mighty dirty looks when my dad and I got in line to check out, and it took everything in me not to channel LA Grace.

  The Grace that Tucker met when he offered to help me.

  That thought didn't give me any sort of sweet memories, because I'd never be able to repress the memories of how awful I was to him, even if it had felt out of my control.

  Me and Tucker and Magnolia swirled messily in my head while we went back to my dad's apartment where Grady was waiting for us. Had he really broken up with her right after our meeting at the fairground? The interaction had been significant to me, certainly, but maybe … just maybe I hadn’t been alone in that.

  Somehow, I managed small talk as we grilled up some slightly mushy zucchini and overcooked chicken. My dad didn't hate the veggies, and if I was distracted enough for him to notice, he didn't say anything about it.

  After the dishes were cleaned up, my overwrought brain moved to Rose Buchanan and her red book, and I wondered what would have happened if her Joseph had been with someone else when they met. If he'd had another sweetheart, would she have moved on to someone else? Would she have been happy?

  I'd never believed in fate, that there was a predestined path for our life. People had a choice, we made decisions and lived with the consequences, but there were so many directions that we could go, so many things we could do, places we could live, people we could love.

  But as Grady and I drove home, and I told him I wanted to get some work done on my laptop before disappearing into the garage apartment, I thought about Tucker, and imagined what it would feel like if I drove away from Green Valley and never saw him again.

  According to something Levi said, it was the life that my oldest cousin Hunter was living. Married to someone that he wasn't destined to love, someone else that didn’t hold his entire heart.

  Someone less.

  That was my next thought. I didn't know who Hunter had loved when he was in Green Valley. I didn't know his wife now. But when I tried to imagine someone other than Tucker for me, it immediately felt like they would have to be less.

  Less good.

  Less kind.

  Less handsome.

  Less thoughtful.

  Less perfect for me.

  While photos from the hike downloaded onto my laptop, I pulled open my phone and considered the wisdom of reaching out to him.

  He'd broken up with his girlfriend, by all accounts, in between the times I'd seen him yesterday.

  We met at the fairgrounds, I practically spilled my cursed heart onto the ground in front of him, he looked at me like he wanted to snatch me to him and eat me whole, he broke up with his long-term girlfriend, and then he saved me from a wayward croissant.

  I rubbed at my forehead and tried to remember if anything stuck out to me from that brief slip of time at Donner Bakery.

  Croissant.

  Choking.

  Hand smacking.

  Water.

  Tucker.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. His face came into my mind, as sharp and clear as if he was standing in front of me.

  Those remarkable eyes took me in, and yes, he'd been concerned. But there was something else, tickling on the edge of my mind as I remembered our interaction.

  A warmth behind the concern, as he looked at me. Happiness. I pressed a hand to my heart.

  Interest. Attraction. Fascination.

  All of it had been there. Something I hadn't known to look for, because he was him. And if I knew anything about him, it was that Tucker was a good man. He wouldn't have allowed that to come through so visibly, so clearly unchained, if he hadn't been free to do so.

  I blew a raspberry through my lips and pulled up his number, carefully changing his contact info to his full name. No more hiding behind his initials.

  To text or not to text, I mused, rubbing my thumb over his name once it was saved.

  My phone vibrated, eliciting a surprised squeak.

  Incoming call- Tucker Haywood

  My heart took off with so much raw, unharnessed power, I could've lit the Vegas strip.

  "Oh, fuck you, you stupid southern curse."

  I took a deep, steadying breath, and answered the call.

  "Hey," I said, tucking the phone between my cheek and my shoulder.

  "Grace."

  Goosebumps everywhere, from the sound of his voice saying my name. They chased each other up my arms and down my spine, lifting hairs as they went. Five silly letters had never sounded the way they did when his deep, deep voice curled around my name.

  "That's, that's me," I answered weakly. Then I pinched my eyes shut in embarrassment. "Um, what can I do for you?"

  The smile in his voice was clear when he answered, probably because I sounded like a fool. "So … it occurs to me that when we met this morning, we never actually accomplished anything related to the festival."

  Any wind puffing up my sails from his surprise call died a quick death.

  "Right," I said. Mental adjustments were harder when you were cursed apparently, because I dropped my head back and willed away anything other than the reason he was calling. "Umm, what did we need to talk about again?"

  He chuckled. Why did it have to sound so sexy and wonderful when he chuckled? I stifled a groan, spearing my hand into my hair and tugging until I felt the sharp sting of pain.

  "How we want to do this without kissing every person in town and also raising a ton of money."

  My lips curled. "Ahh yes."

  "Did I interrupt anything exciting when I called?" he asked.

  I sighed. "You have no idea."

  "Yeah?"

  "Oh yeah. Downloading the pictures I took on the hike. I doubt I caught anything worth keeping before my ankle decided to twist itself."

  "That does sound exciting."

  "Mmhmmm." I chewed on my lip. "What about you? What are you doing?"

  Honestly, I could not have sounded more awkward if I tried. But there was something terribly intimate about being curled up on my couch in the dark, with the sound of his voice in my ear. There wasn't a single part of me that didn't wish he was there with me.

  There also wasn't a single part of me in denial about the feelings that Tucker had coursing through my body.

  Floodgates were unleashed, the wall was knocked down, any other clever analogy that my love-addled brain could think up.

  "Just driving around. Felt like I needed some fresh air."

  I snuggled into the corner of the couch and took a deep breath. "I-I saw Magnolia at the Piggly Wiggly."

  Loaded silence met my quiet statement.

  "Did you now?" he asked after a beat.

  I swallowed. "We didn't talk long." I smiled. "Long enough that I had to beat off some of the town vultures though."

  Tucker groaned. "That place is a breeding ground for bored minds to run wild, I swear."

  "Seems like it." I leaned my head back again and pried the appropriate words up my throat. "I'm sorry to hear about you two."

  Oh look at that, I didn't die saying them.

  In the background, I could hear the wind rushing in through Tucker's truck, the sound of his tires on the road. But he didn't say anything for a long moment. Then the truck's engine went quiet, his door opened and closed.

  "It was the right thing to do," he said, when he finally spoke. "For a lot of reasons."

  I moved the phone, briefly miming that I was banging it against my forehead when I did. The very last thing I wanted to do was talk about Magnolia, but I thought about what Levi said about getting to know him.

  As I tried to think of what I could ask next, Tucker's voice came through the speaker.

  "Grace?"

  If I was on death row, and they offered me the choice between a perfectly seared eight-ounce filet mignon as my last meal, or hearing Tucker Haywood say my name one more time, I was certain I'd choose the latter.

  "Yeah?"

  "Don't scream when I knock, okay? I don't want to scare y
ou."

  I bolted upright just as three raps sounded quietly on the door.

  Chapter 15

  Tucker

  Maybe I was the world's biggest fool, showing up like I did. My truck drove there without a second thought as soon as I heard her voice, a decision I hadn't even registered making.

  But the second I saw the way she looked when I told her I was there, I'd never known such surety in my entire life. The blinding smile that lit her face knocked the breath from my lungs, and if there hadn't been a window between us to lessen the impact, it may have sent me to my knees.

  There was no question in my mind that Grace was the impetus behind ending my relationship with Maggie, no matter what happened next. There was no possibility to leave those feelings unexplored, not when I saw the way her eyes lit, saw the way her cheeks lifted, and the shape of her lips changed because of that smile—the very first one that was meant for me.

  Someone that beautiful shouldn't be allowed to walk free in the world, I thought. She leaped from the couch and all but tossed her laptop on the small kitchen counter in the middle of the converted garage apartment as she came to open the door.

  My heart skipped impatiently over the normal rhythm when the lock clicked, and the barrier between us swung open. Grace leaned against the door frame, an amused grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

  "What are you doing here?"

  I shoved my hands in my pockets, so I didn't do something stupid, like tug her face up to mine. "Would you believe me if I said I wasn't entirely sure?"

  Grace dropped her chin and laughed under her breath. When she lifted it again, she took a step back. "You better come in, before my aunt and uncle wonder who I'm sneaking in here at night."

  The breath that left my lungs was deep and slow, laden with relief and anticipation. For what, I wasn't sure. But even the thought of time spent with her—just her, even if all we did was talk—was enough to have my skin tightening over my whole body.

  My eyes adjusted to the dim light of the studio apartment. It was simply decorated, with more space to move around than I thought there'd be. A gray couch against one wall faced a television screen mounted straight across the room, a low console underneath it holding a couple of framed pictures that I couldn't make out. The kitchen was tucked into the opposite corner of the couch, one long stretch of counter that was uncluttered except for a coffee maker.