Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“We’ve only been engaged a minute,” Brooks whined. He buried his face in Mal’s shoulder. “Mal, I’m sorry to tell you this, but we need to elope, possibly tomorrow. Name your price.”
Mal lifted a hand to stroke Brooks’s head. “Hush! Don’t fear the swatches, my cornflower princess. Besides, if we eloped now, we’d miss the Lickin’ Apple-tini Slosh Fest.”
“That’s not until next weekend,” Brooks said hopefully. “Wouldn’t you like to go to the Pickin’ as my husband?”
“Oh.” Mal opened his mouth, then shut it again and narrowed his eyes. “That was low, Brooks Johnson. How dare you use my weaknesses against me.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Just for that, I’m letting her plan the biggest wedding in Thicket history. Also, I’m wearing navy, and you’re wearing cornflower for real.” He sniffed. “Remember, Cindy Ann denies me nothing.”
“I remember.” Brooks nodded remorsefully and ducked his head, but he didn’t look remotely put out by this. In fact, he looked so deeply contented and in love that I sighed. So did Tucker. He gave me a tight little smile that I returned.
Dunn grabbed an empty chair from another table and pulled Tucker into it, before dropping onto the booth seat beside me. “I know how much you like a little extra leg room, Doc. So, are we getting wings? Beer? Parrish, what are you in the mood…” He paused and sniffed at me, then wrinkled his nose and sniffed again. “Dude, you smell like lavender and coffee. What kind of fabric softener are you using?”
My cheeks went red. “I, um…”
Brooks snorted. “Since when do you know what lavender smells like, Dunn Johnson? That’s what I’d like to know.”
“Since I got a scented candle that’s lavender, Brooks Johnson. Duh.”
“You? Burn scented candles in your bachelor hovel?” Brooks lifted an eyebrow, and Dunn rolled his eyes.
“It’s not a hovel. And that’s prejudiced,” Dunn retorted smartly. “Gay men aren’t the only ones who appreciate a little lavender vanilla to brighten up the sitting room. Right, Tuck?” He leaned over to slap Tucker’s chest with the back of his hand and then shake him gently by the shoulder. “You tell him.”
Dunn and Tucker were clearly close friends, given the way Dunn acted so familiar around him and the fact that Tucker didn’t seem to mind.
“Scented candles don’t make you gay,” Tucker recited, like they’d had this discussion before, possibly more than once.
Dunn nodded. “Thank you.”
“So, let me guess. You two were best friends growing up?” I asked Tucker.
Dunn hooted. “Us? No way. Tucker’s like, a bajillion years older than me.”
“Eight,” Tucker corrected a bit sourly. “Just slightly less than a bajillion. In fact,” he added to me, “Dunn was friends with my brother Thom once upon a time. But since I came back to town, I guess you could say we’ve… hit it off.”
“Tucker tries to keep up with me. Right?” Dunn nearly leaned out of his seat to grab Tucker by the back of the neck. “Hey, speaking of, you wanna go fishing this weekend? I know you’ve gotta do your Rainbows thing at the Pickin’, but I figure we can head up to the cabin tomorrow night after you’re done, fish Sunday morning at dawn, and you’ll be back in time for the festivities Sunday afternoon? Been a long week, and I’d love to sneak away with my best friend to unwind for a bit.”
“Oh.” Tucker flushed a little. “Well, I guess I…”
“Excellent!” Dunn said. He leaned back in his seat, satisfied. “See, I told my mom I wanted to take Jenn Shipley out and that’s why I couldn’t make it to dinner, so if you don’t come to the cabin with me, I’ll probably have to actually ask her. But I’ve already been out with her twice! Three dates and it’ll become, like, a whole thing.” He rolled his eyes. “And Lord save me from whole things, am I right? But if I tell my mom I had plans with you and forgot, that’ll be that. Easy peasy. Mom loves you.”
“Easy peasy.” Tucker huffed out a half laugh. “You know what? Actually, I can’t go fishing, Dunn. Because before you arrived and rudely interrupted, I was about to make plans of my own.” He looked at me. “Would you like to come to the Pickin’ with me Sunday, Parrish?”
“And I said yes,” I told Miss Sara, who was sitting in an overstuffed floral-print armchair in her living room with her feet up on a hassock and Elvis curled up on the floor beneath. “I mean, there was nothing else to say. He’s the perfect man for me, right?”
Miss Sara watched me pacing the carpet and took a delicate sip of her tea to let me know she agreed wholeheartedly.
“And I like him! I do. He’s good-looking. Straight teeth. Kind eyes. He’s a pediatrician who does volunteer work, so he’s basically a saint. I like his freckles. He wants a family. Heck, if I custom-ordered a guy, it would be this guy. There is literally not a single thing wrong with him! There’s no spark, or whatever, but sparks are way overrated. And dangerous,” I added.