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)
“Really?” Tucker’s eyes widened. “Oh my gourd!”
Dunn snickered, then burst into laughter. “That’s exactly what I said!” He and Tucker shared a grin… and the rest of us grinned at the two of them grinning.
Cyril huffed. “Well. Fun as this has been, I’m afraid I have a sudden, devastating headache. I’m going to get going.” He motioned toward the parking lot.
“But.” Tucker shook his head and turned away from Dunn. “I could get you something. I’m a doctor, after all.”
“Ah, no.” Cyril shook his head. “Thank you. I think I’ll feel better once I get… home.”
The charged silence that fell after Cyril gave us all a final nod and walked off was broken only when Dunn forced a laugh and walked behind me to grab Tucker by the back of the neck and shake him a little. “God, what a jerk, huh? Good riddance, Cyril. Honestly. What kind of a name is Cyril, anyway?”
When Tucker didn’t reply, he soldiered on, “What do you wanna do first, Tuck? We can see the squash. We can find ourselves in the maze. We could go sample a Haunted Pilgrim over at the Tavern’s booth? It’s made with pumpkin and bourbon and guaranteed to make you see ghosts! Whaddya say?”
Tucker shook his head and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Actually,” he said, pulling away from Dunn, “I think whatever Cyril had might have gotten to me too. I’m gonna go home. Y’all have a good night.”
Dunn shook his head as Tucker walked off. “That poor guy. You know, he’s my best friend, but he’s kind of odd. I’ve never known him to have a crush on anyone.”
Diesel frowned and opened his mouth to state the obvious, but Brooks shook his head once in the negative, and Diesel closed his mouth again.
“I don’t see you cashing in with the ladies, Dunn Johnson,” Ava said. “You’ve got no room to talk.”
“Meh. Me and Jen are doing a mating dance, that’s all. We’re on again, off again, but I like her just fine. Someday we’ll prob’ly get married, just like you fine folks.”
Mal, Brooks, Ava, Paul, Diesel, and I exchanged mutual ping-ponging looks of disbelief at this assertion but kept quiet.
“It’s different with Tuck,” Dunn continued. “He wants to find a special someone, but he seems to keep striking out. He needs a batting coach, like I did in high sch—” Dunn gasped. “Oh my God! He needs a coach. I could be his coach.”
“You?” Mal demanded.
“Well, sure. Who better? No one knows Tuck like I do.”
“Yeah, but…” I began, but Brooks shook his head once again, so I shut my mouth.
“Tucker Wright is the best friend I’ve ever had, you know? He’s kind, and funny. And he makes the best jig and pig I’ve ever seen. Plus, he’s a good doctor too, if you’re into that sort of thing. He deserves better.” Dunn set his jaw determinedly. “And I’m gonna see that he gets it. Operation Get Tuck Fuc—er… you know—is gonna begin now.”
He marched down the path to the parking area after Tucker.
Mal elbowed Brooks in the side. “Why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you let us stop him?”
“I’ve known Dunn since he was born,” Brooks said, still watching his brother stomp away. “He’s the smartest idiot you’ll ever meet, and he’s more stubborn than a field of goats. He needs to figure this one out on his own, trust me.” He wrapped his arm around Mal’s waist. “Now come on, baby. I’m starving, and I’ll buy you some tater tots.”
Ava laughed, and she and Paul sauntered away after them.
I looked up at Diesel. “Are tater tots symbolic?” I demanded. “Like, red roses mean love, shredded potatoes mean fidelity… How’s that work?”
“Around here? Oh yeah.” Diesel nodded. “French fries are for first dates, but if you spring for tots, that’s a sign you’re committed.” He winked. “You want me to buy you some tater tots, baby?”
“Wow.” I whistled. “You sure we’re ready to take it to that level?”
“I’m sure.” Diesel kissed me softly. “In fact, you’re the thing in this world I’m most sure of.”
I grinned. “Then lead the way.”
We strolled down the pathway to the Partridge Pit booth, where Uncle Beau and Aunt Marnie stood chatting with straightlaced interior designer Colin and his biker husband, Riker—arguably the Thicket’s weirdest pairing, even more so than my own—and their sweet kidlet, while a couple of our line chefs and servers prepped orders.
When Beau saw the three of us coming, he grabbed a platter of barbecue off the counter and rushed out to meet us.
“Diesel—” he began proudly.
“Hey, Uncle Beau. How are you?” Diesel asked. “Any luck replacing the convertible yet?”
Beau waved his free hand. “Not a worry. Marnie got her heart set on one of them electric luxury cars. It’s on order.”