Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Leon dated Hiram Fuller!” I cried. “The professional whatsit!”
Brooks took the mug out of Tucker’s hand and replaced it with a glass pitcher. “This’ll fit more,” he murmured.
Tucker eyed me. “The basketball player?”
“Yes!” I cried, pointing at him with one hand and my nose with the other. “Got it in one.” That man always did know how to read my mind.
“Why’d they break up?” Ava asked. “Probably couldn’t handle balls as well off the court as on.”
“Ava Marie Siegel,” Mama chided.
Ava batted her eyes innocently at Mama. “I meant on the golf course. You know how much Leon loves to hit eighteen.”
“There!” I shouted again. “Something else you have in common with him. I forgot. Leon loves golf. Tuck, you do too. You’re great at golf. You’re a golfing… stud.”
The room suddenly felt a little awkward, but I thought maybe it was the amount of wine Tucker was still pouring into the pitcher.
“Anyway,” I went on. “Even if things don’t work out with you and Leon, you have to admit it’d be nice to have someone to meet up with on the course since you won’t play golf with me anymore.” I tried not to sound pathetic and hurt about it, but it still stung.
Tucker’s jaw dropped. “You peed on the green. In front of the Licking Thicket High golf team.”
I tried to remain calm. “I told you it was an emergency. And I hid behind a bush. It wasn’t like anyone saw me.”
“I saw you!” he said, slapping a hand on his chest. He had a nice chest. “And I’m pretty sure everyone out there heard you moaning in relief.”
I searched my memory for the truth of the matter. “It was a really good pee,” I admitted. “You know the kind.”
Mama sighed. “On that note, let’s eat.”
When we moved to the dining room, Mama and Ava jostled me until I was practically falling into Tucker’s lap. “What the hell?” I asked, moving to the chair next to his. I couldn’t help but notice he smelled funny. “I normally sit over th—”
“That’s Ava’s seat, dear,” Mama said before moving to the end of the table. “She’s gotta sit next to the high chair.”
I leaned over and sniffed my best friend. Like you do.
“What the hell?” he asked, jerking away.
“Why you smell like fried onions and spicy sausage?” I glared at him. “And do not lie to me, Tucker Wilber Wright, because I know you and I will know if you’re lying.”
“My middle name isn’t—”
“If you went to CarrieBell’s brunch buffet out on Highway 50 without me, we’re going to have fucking words.”
Mama’s sharp inhale caught my attention, and I glanced up at her with an apologetic expression. “Sorry.”
“Dunn Johnson. Watch your mouth in this house and anywhere else the Lord has eyeballs and earlobes,” she hissed.
I wasn’t sure the Lord had either of those things anymore, but I wasn’t about to argue with my mother about Jesus semantics on a Sunday. Brooks shoved a casserole dish in my face. “Humble pie?”
I dished out some potato salad before handing the dish back to Brooks.
“Aren’t you going to pass it to Tucker?” Brooks asked with a knowing grin.
“No need. Tuck’s probably still full from CarrieBell’s brunch buffet. Aren’t you?” Besides which, he hated potato salad and almost any other salad made with mayo, with the exception of cheesy broccoli salad, deviled eggs, and the lemon chicken salad out at Thelma’s Sandwich Shack.
Tucker didn’t answer, and that was fine by me. How dare he go to CarrieBell’s without me? How. Dare. He.
“Hey, Tucker?” My mom’s voice sounded weird, like the time she subtly took charge of a town meeting and wound up somehow convincing sixty people into volunteering to have their hair dyed pink for the breast cancer fundraiser walk. It was like… one minute there was a roomful of normal people, and the next it was a cotton-candy-colored free-for-all.
Something was up.
“Yes, ma’am?”
Poor little innocent Tucker. He had no idea. This was how she lured people into her trap.
“Your receptionist’s still out on maternity leave, isn’t she?”
“Yep,” Tucker agreed. Brooks, the giant traitor, passed the broccoli salad in his direction, and Tucker took a big helping. “Annie won’t be back until May.”
Considering my mom and half the Corps had been at Annie’s shower—and heck, even I knew she’d only had her baby a week ago—this question was further proof my mother was machinating.
Machinat-inating?
Machininating?
Plotting.
“You haven’t filled her spot yet, have you?” she asked, all casual. Too casual.
Like a gazelle sensing he was about to become prey, Tucker blinked a little. “Uh. No, ma’am. Remember I mentioned that Vienna and I thought we could probably just muddle through without a receptionist, since it’d only—”
“I ask,” Mama interrupted with a beaming smile, “because Jenn Shipley’s between jobs again—”
Silence reigned around the table. Even baby Beau stopped his happy babbling.