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)
I wanted to save Dunn from doing something he couldn’t come back from, like Victor Proud with his Entwinin’ wreath. I wanted to save our friendship from the consequences of that too.
It had nothing to do with thinking Dunn wasn’t smart.
Obviously.
It had to do with thinking he wasn’t experienced and wanting to protect him from it.
There was a difference.
“This might seem a little crazy,” I began, “but what do you think about keeping this between us?”
“As opposed to threesomes?” Dunn frowned. “Not sure what you’ve heard, but I’m not really into that, Tuck.”
“No, doofus.” I smacked his arm. Hard. “I know you’re not, and neither am I. I meant… What do you think about not telling anyone that you and I are… you know?”
“Together?”
I hesitated, then nodded.
“You’re saying you want to keep us a secret?” Dunn wrinkled his nose.
“No! Not a secret! More like a… well, actually, yeah, kind of a secret,” I admitted. “Only because this is a big change in our relationship, and it’s sure to cause gossip. The last thing we need is the stress of your mama asking us our wedding colors, like she is with Mal and Brooks, or Amos Nutter giving us relationship advice, or hell, Carter teasing me every two minutes, right?”
“Carter,” he scoffed darkly.
“Hey.” I smacked his arm again, even harder this time, but Dunn didn’t so much as flinch. “Carter and I are friends and colleagues. That’s all.”
Dunn flopped to his back and rolled his eyes. “And former boyfriends, don’t forget.”
“Yes, but former. As in, very former. As in, I stopped thinking of him the second I started thinking of you.” Which was way longer ago than I cared to admit.
Dunn ran both hands through his hair. “Yeah, okay. I just hate thinking he had any part of you that I haven’t had.” His lips twisted up. “Crazy, huh?”
“No,” I said vehemently. “Not even a little. And, baby, he hasn’t, I promise.” I had never felt about anyone in my life the way I felt about Dunn Johnson, and I knew in the way I knew my eyes were brown that I never, ever would.
“He wants you to go back to Nashville with him.” Dunn glanced at me sideways. “And I could see in your eyes you were really tempted by that fancy Vanderbilt position.”
I snorted. “For someone who claims to know me so well, you’re batting zero today. I was hardly tempted at all by the position.” Maybe slightly tempted by the idea of returning to the less complicated life I’d had there… but then, that would mean returning to a life without Dunn, which was unacceptable. “Carter mentioned the job to me yesterday out of nowhere, and he only brought it up today to poke at you. Heck, he told you he’s thinking about sticking around here himself, didn’t he?”
“I guess.” Dunn rolled toward me. “Do that thing where you call me baby again and maybe I’ll agree to be your secret lover.”
I laughed out loud so hard the bed shook. “My secret lover? Really.”
“Really.” He wiggled his eyebrows and climbed on top of me. The warm weight of his naked body was a thrill unlike any I’d ever known. “It’s a promotion,” he informed me. “A step up from best best friend.”
“No way.” I cradled his bristly jaw in both hands. “You are still my best best friend. And whatever else you are, baby, you’ll always be that.”
I would make damn sure of it.
14
Dunn
16-Down: Enjoyment, amusement, or lighthearted pleasure (3 letters)
The following week was kinda fun. At first I’d been a little miffed at Tuck’s insistence we keep things on the down-low. But then we’d started sneaking around.
I’d discovered I liked sneaking around. It was an adrenaline rush.
Like the time I rode my bike to his house so no one would see my truck in his driveway overnight. I’d kinda felt like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, outrunning the black cloud of Thicket gossipmongers.
But biking back at 4:00 a.m. for the morning milking had not been nearly as fun.
Also, the time we went to Sunday lunch at my parents’ house and we’d had to act casual. Mama had pulled me aside and snuck some laxatives in my hand. “This’ll fix you right up, dear. You look real constipated. Are you in pain?”
Then there was the time we’d run into each other at the grocery store, and I’d snuck a box of condoms into his basket when he wasn’t looking. The time Ava asked me for Tucker’s address for some Beautification Corps event she was chairing. I’d looked at her and flat out told her I had no idea where he lived. The time Jordan Brock asked me what the mark was on my jaw and I’d said I’d accidentally popped a champagne cork at my face. It was a lie. Tucker had sucked on that spot until a deep purple bruise had blossomed.