Eternity Springs: The McBrides of Texas: Tucker

by Emily March

  With the women departed, the cousins fell silent for a time, enjoying the peace of the chilly winter evening, the crackle of the campfire, and the soft snoring of the dog lying nearby.

  Tucker’s thoughts returned to Gillian and her beau. So, Jackson didn’t care for the fiancé, hmm? Interesting. Wonder just how good a golfer ol’ Jeremy was? Tucker might have to see about getting up a game with him. The idea of whipping the man’s butt on the links had a real appeal, which was saying something. He hadn’t wanted to play golf since his last round at Congressional. He’d played with some Congress critters at the order of his CO, and he’d hated every minute of it. Those snakes had—

  “Maybe you should think about doing more of this,” Jackson said, interrupting Tucker’s musings.

  “Family fish fries?”

  “Well, yes. That was damned good fish. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the lessons with Haley.”

  Tucker picked up a branch to stir the fire. “You know I’m happy to spend as much time with her as you guys want. I do think it’s helping her.”

  “I do too. Haley’s time with you here in Enchanted Canyon has been great for her. But the thing is, I believe it’s been good for you too. Listen, I have an idea.”

  “That’s always dangerous.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t argue that. Especially in light of what’s happened since I mentioned my idea to Boone.”

  Tucker tossed the cedar branch onto the fire and shot Jackson a wary look. “Why do I think I’m not going to be thrilled about the direction this conversation is about to take?”

  “Probably because you’ve known Boone all your life. Bossiest sonofagun on the planet.”

  The gentle breeze switched directions, and smoke drifted toward them. Tucker savored the scent. He did love the smell of burning cedar. “What have you two done?”

  Now it was Jackson’s turn to get a stick and poke the fire. “It’s kind of a long story, although it’s only been a couple of weeks. But you know Boone.”

  “I know Boone. I repeat. What have you two done?”

  “Okay. Here’s the deal.” He jabbed a log and sparks rose into the winter night. “At the risk of bringing up a touchy subject, this is quite the extended vacation you’ve been taking. It’s not like you.”

  Tucker shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Thinking about joining the circus.”

  “Bad news for you there, cuz. I think the circus has gone out of business.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I think so. The circus with animals, anyway. Issues with animal cruelty.”

  “Huh.”

  “Anyway, unless you’ve completely changed personalities, you’re gonna get tired of not having anything to keep you busy. Angelica said you taught her how to make a friction fire?”

  “Yeah.” Tucker smiled at the memory. “She came by the trailer out of the blue one evening and asked me to teach her. It took us a while, but we eventually got the job done.”

  “She enjoyed it. Said you were a patient, excellent teacher.”

  “I enjoyed it too. Angelica is a hoot.”

  “Well, she mentioned it to Celeste.”

  “Boone’s friend?”

  “Yes.”

  Tucker knew of Celeste Blessing, but he’d never met her. She was the owner of a resort in the Colorado mountain town where Boone now lived. She’d been the person who suggested her own cousin, Angelica, for the innkeeper position after the McBride cousins inherited Enchanted Canyon and decided to remodel the long-abandoned brothel into the Fallen Angel Inn.

  Jackson continued, “Anyway, Celeste—”

  He broke off abruptly at the sound of an approaching engine. Both men looked toward the road as a Jeep Wrangler made the turn toward the Airstream. Jackson muttered, “Finally.”

  “Finally,” Tucker repeated. “You expecting company, cousin?”

  “Yep.”

  “Let me guess. Our bossy cousin has traveled from Eternity Springs to grace us with his presence.”

  “Got it in one. He’s running late, though. He was supposed to be here in time for supper.”

  The Jeep stopped next to his own truck, and a familiar figure emerged. Boone McBride strode toward them wearing dress slacks and a long-sleeved white shirt, cuffs rolled up midway on his forearms. He was half an inch taller than Tucker’s own six foot two, something he’d always lorded over him, and older by two months. They shared the same prominent McBride cheekbones and slim, mostly straight nose, each sporting a bump from a break, Tucker’s from their teen years and Boone’s since his move to Eternity Springs. He had dark hair and a shark’s smile, and tonight, his silver-gray eyes glowed with purpose.

  Tucker repressed a heavy sigh. Obviously, his cousins were on a mission, and it involved him and his future. A month ago, he’d have reacted by turning around and heading into the woods, not to return until they’d decamped. Tonight, he realized he wouldn’t mind hearing what they had to say.

  Progress, I guess. Enchanted Canyon doing the work.

  After they all exchanged greetings, Boone turned to Jackson. “Have you told him?”

  “Was just getting around to it.”

  Tucker asked, “What’s this all about?”

  Jackson nodded toward Boone, who said, “It’s an intervention. We get together and gang up on you. The women in Eternity Springs swear by it, so here we are.”

  “I’m honored,” Tucker said in an exaggerated drawl.

  “You should be. I canceled a date with a long-legged brunette to attend this little soirée.”

  Unbidden, an image of Gillian Thacker flashed through Tucker’s mind. “That’s quite the sacrifice. So, this sounds like something I’ll need to endure with a drink. Whiskey, anyone?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Tucker went into the Airstream, and when he emerged a few minutes later carrying three glasses and a bottle of bourbon, he saw that his cousins had set up lawn chairs around the fire pit. Jackson tossed another log onto the fire while Boone talked to River and scratched the contented yellow Lab behind his ears.

  Once they all had drinks and had taken a seat, Boone launched the first salvo. “You’re right, Jackson. Mr. Spit-and-Polish has gone to seed. When was the last time you got a haircut? Your mane is almost as long as Ponytail Boy, here.”

  Jackson gave his hair a taunting wave toward Boone. “I didn’t say he’d gone to seed. I said he needed a job. His longer hair looks good. Caroline says so.”

  “The legal beagle is just jealous of all the jack we’re saving at the barbershop.”

  Jackson scoffed. “Boone hasn’t set foot in a barbershop for fifteen years. He goes to”—Jackson lifted his fingers to make air quotes—“the salon at the spa.”

  “Hey, if you got a chance to have Penny Watson run her fingers through your hair once a week, you’d go to Angel’s Rest spa yourselves. But I digress. Jackson is right. Tucker, you need a job. You’ve sulked in the canyon long enough.”

  “I haven’t been sulking.”

  “No? What do you call it?”

  Brooding. “Reassessing.”

  Jackson snorted, and Boone continued, “Well, whatever you want to call it, it’s time you stopped. We know you better than anyone. If you keep this up much longer, you’re going to wig out on us and do something stupid like join the French Foreign Legion or a knitting club.”

  “I would never join the French Foreign Legion, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with knitting clubs.”

  “Might be a good way to pick up women,” Jackson added.

  Boone ignored them both and pressed on. “Leaving a job is stressful enough, but you left a life, Tucker. It’s natural for you to feel anxious and depressed. Knowing you, you probably feel guilty too.”

  Annoyed now, Tucker snapped, “Well, thank you, Dr. Freud.”

  “You had good instincts when you made the decision to come here to Enchanted Can
yon. You’re in your element here. But, it’s one thing to take a break and heal, and something else entirely when the healing morphs into hiding.”

  “I haven’t been hiding,” Tucker protested.

  “Bull,” Jackson snapped, his green eyes flashing. “You don’t leave the canyon.”

  “I do too. I went to Caroline’s Christmas party just last week. And I went to your place for Thanksgiving.”

  “Twice. Big damned deal. You get Angelica to buy your groceries, and everything else you order online and have delivered. You’re becoming a recluse, Tucker.”

  Boone tossed a branch on the fire, and as tree sap snapped and crackled and sparks fluttered up into the cold night air, he announced, “You need something to pull you out of your funk. Luckily, we have a plan.”

  “You always have a plan,” Tucker groused.

  “Not always,” Boone replied in a droll tone. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have ended up in Eternity Springs.”

  Tucker momentarily considered attempting to follow the dangling bait by leading the conversation toward Boone’s personal crisis, but he found he was curious about their plan. “Cut to the chase.”

  “Okay. We want you to open a survivalist school. Well, more than just a survivalist school. Nothing wrong with preppers, but you need a bigger target market. We think you should teach wilderness skills to adults and children.”

  “Seriously?” Tucker almost laughed out loud.

  “Seriously,” Jackson replied.

  Tucker hid his grin by taking a sip of his drink and savoring the smoky taste of the smooth Kentucky whiskey. To Jackson, he said, “This was your idea?”

  “No. Angelica and Celeste cooked it up between themselves.”

  Boone leaned forward, an earnest look in his nickel-colored eyes. “I’ve learned that when Celeste speaks, it’s wise to listen. She is a special person with an uncanny way of being around when a person needs help. So, do you want to hear all of our reasons why this is a good move, or can we skip straight to reviewing the business plan? I’ll warn you, I’m determined to talk you into this, so I wouldn’t bother wasting a lot of breath arguing.”

  Tucker snorted. One of the perks of this career change of his was that no man alive could make him do something he didn’t want to do—not for long, anyway. However, in this case, arguing wasn’t necessary. He took another sip of his whiskey, then spoke in a casual tone. “Sounds great. I think it might be something I’d enjoy. Want to go inside where we have some light, and you can show me this business plan of yours?”

  “Huh.” Jackson scratched his dog behind his ears and met Boone’s gaze. “That was easy.”

  “Yeah. Too easy.” Boone narrowed his eyes. “Explain yourself, Tucker.”

  He could have done that. Tucker could have told his cousins that the same idea had occurred to him over a week ago, that he had contacts in the industry to whom he had reached out, and that he had the beginnings of a business plan sketched out already. But Boone looked a little worried and worrying him was fun, so Tucker simply shrugged and said, “I’m a reasonable man. Besides, I already tried the knitting club. Not to ruin the surprise or anything, you might find a handmade pair of socks beneath your Christmas trees.”

  Boone snorted. “Right.” Still, he looked a little nervous.

  “I need another drink,” Jackson said, rising from his lawn chair. “We killed this bottle.”

  The three big men all but filled the Airstream. Boone and Jackson claimed seats at the table. Tucker brought a camp chair in from outside in which to sit. He was able to continue his joke by producing part of one of the Christmas gifts he’d ordered for one of the housekeepers at the Fallen Angel. The look on his cousins’ faces when he showed them a knitting basket complete with needles and yarn was priceless.

  Tucker bedded down that evening feeling more upbeat than he had since receiving word about his special assignment to DC. As he drifted toward sleep, he decided he might just be ready to come out of the canyon. He’d consider showing up for the McBride family Christmas gathering in Eternity Springs. That’d make his uncle Parker happy. If that went well, he could give Jackson’s New Year’s Eve show at the dance hall a try. He could flirt a little. Look for a woman to kiss at midnight. Maybe a woman who knew how to knit.

  For the first time in a long time, Tucker looked forward to the coming year. He fell asleep smiling, his soul easing toward being at peace.

  Chapter Five

  The musical superstar and new Redemption resident Coco headlined the New Year’s Eve lineup at the Last Chance Hall. Tickets were impossible to come by, but Gillian had an in—she was to be a bridesmaid in the dance hall owner’s wedding.

  Last year, Gillian and Jeremy had spent New Year’s Eve at a swanky hotel in downtown Austin. She’d worn a killer gold dress and a pair of Jimmy Choo’s, and after he’d popped the question, they’d danced the night away. She’d been giddy with love.

  Tonight, she’d dressed rodeo chic in a filmy, flowing short white dress accented with a sparkling gold belt, gold hoop earrings, and paired with new dress boots. She wore her hair up with curling tendrils escaping at her temples. She knew she looked good. She felt pretty. Jeremy paid her the appropriate compliments when he picked her up for their date.

  That didn’t allay her unease as they made small talk during the drive out to Enchanted Canyon. Rather than being giddy like last year, tonight she felt nervous and uncertain. Bridal jitters, she kept telling herself.

  She wasn’t convinced.

  They’d been invited to join Jackson and Caroline for dinner at the saloon before the show started. They arrived to find Maisy already there with a date, a divorced father of two from California named Ben who was in town for the holidays visiting his parents. Gillian liked him right off. He was funny and friendly and good-looking too, with sun-bleached hair and a tanned complexion that suggested he spent a lot of time outdoors. He was sharing a story about teaching his nine-year-old son to surf when Jackson and Caroline arrived.

  “Is Angelica joining us?” Maisy asked as Caroline took the seat next to her. The table was set for seven.

  “No.” Jackson hung his denim jacket on the back of his chair. “Tucker has promised to grace us with his presence.”

  “Really?” Maisy said. “That’s a surprise.” She turned to her date and explained, “Jackson’s cousin moved to town last fall, but we hardly ever see him.”

  “He’s been working on his recluse imitation while he explores the canyon,” Jackson agreed. “Mainly he’s been adjusting to a career change. Spent the last year or so in Washington, DC, rubbing shoulders with lobbyists and politicians, and says he needed some time in the wilderness to feel clean again.”

  “Understandable,” Ben said.

  Gillian was glad to have the heads-up about Tucker. The only time they’d crossed paths since parting ways at Buc-ee’s had been at the Christmas party at Caroline’s bookstore. Neither had admitted to a prior meeting at the time.

  She’d thought about him a lot in the weeks and months since September. She’d thought about that kiss a lot as she attempted to understand her actions that day.

  The kiss had shaken her almost as much as the argument with Jeremy. Why had she responded to Tucker the way she had when she was in love with Jeremy? Had it been simply the wake of an emotional meltdown during the argument? Had it been heatstroke?

  Was it Tucker?

  Six weeks before her wedding, she should know the answer, shouldn’t she?

  She sincerely hoped that neither Jeremy nor Tucker would bring up what happened in September. How would she respond if that happened? How could she explain it to friends to whom she’d never mentioned the meeting with Tucker McBride?

  There was another answer she didn’t have. Luckily when Tucker joined them and took the empty seat directly across from Gillian, the only sign he betrayed of the September event was the knowing twinkle in his eyes when they shook hands and said hello. The conversation over dinner was easy and interesting
.

  The McBrides shared an amusing tale about an event that occurred during the recent McBride family Christmas holiday in Eternity Springs. Maisy had everyone laughing with a story about an unfortunate encounter between a trio of raccoons, a shed door left open, and popcorn strings intended for First Methodist Church’s Christmas pageant. After that, talk turned to sports, and Jackson mentioned that his cousin was a scratch golfer. Jeremy lit up like New Year’s Eve fireworks. “I’m part of a group that plays twice a week over at Tapatio Springs,” he said. “You’ll have to join us.”

  Gillian caught the look that passed between the two McBride cousins, but she couldn’t interpret it. Tucker wiped his mouth with his napkin and said, “I’d like that.”

  It turned out that Ben also played golf, so for the next ten minutes, conversation revolved around the various courses throughout the world where the four men at the table had played. Gillian watched Jeremy indulgently. The man did love his golf.

  “Do you play, Gillian?” Tucker asked her at one point.

  She smiled and shook her head. “No, I don’t. I tried a few times, but Jeremy and I decided fairly quickly it’s better for our relationship that when we travel, I go to the spa, while he plays golf.”

  “Good plan,” Caroline agreed.

  The discussion flowed to travel after that, and they talked about Maisy’s upcoming trip to Paris, Caroline and Jackson’s honeymoon to the South Pacific, and Gillian and Jeremy’s honeymoon in the Caribbean. “I’m not sure just what all is on our agenda,” she explained to Ben after they placed orders for dessert. “Jeremy is in charge of the honeymoon.”

  “You’re the planner, Gillian,” he said. “Not me.”

  Gillian frowned at her fiancé as the now-familiar anxiety caused her stomach to take another roll. Jackson broke the awkward silence that followed the comment by pushing back his chair and rising. “I need to get on over to the hall. You all enjoy your chocolate, and Caroline, don’t forget to bring my cookies when you come over.”

  “I won’t.” Caroline lifted her face for Jackson’s kiss.