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)
If I were smart, I would have had one.
In fact, maybe I should get one.
“Oh.” He nodded, but disappointment was clear in his eyes. “Right. Sure. You need to go and… do that, then.”
“And you’ll be fine without me?”
Diesel rolled his eyes. “Been surviving thirty years without you. I’ll last another night.”
My cheeks went hot, and I concentrated very hard on drying my hands with the towel. “Okay, then. Good luck with the bedtime routine thing. I think it’ll help her sleep through the night better, and I’ll… I’ll see you soon.”
But maybe not too soon.
I bent to place a kiss on Marigold’s wet curls. “Be good for your uncle, sweetie pie,” I murmured, then turned to flee… at a very calm and composed pace.
“Parrish, wait!” Diesel said before I’d taken my first step. His voice was like a rumble of thunder—exciting and a little scary, but somehow cozy too. “I can’t let you leave—”
I turned back in surprise, and he lifted a hand to cup my jaw, his eyes warm and intent on mine.
Oh, shit. He was going to kiss me. Holy shit, Diesel Church was going to kiss me.
My eyes widened, my lips parted, my breath came in tiny pants. He swiped his thumb over my cheekbone… and then suddenly, he backed away.
Wait, what?
“—with bubbles on your face,” he finished with a sheepish grin, holding up the evidence on his thumb. “Enjoy your evening.”
I swallowed hard and left without a word… neither calmly nor composedly.
I was late getting to the Tavern, of course. I hadn’t paid attention to the time, and it was ten after seven by the time I made it to the center of town. Running to the B&B to get a change of clothes would have made me even later—or, let’s be honest, I would have found a reason not to go at all—so I decided Beau, Mal, and Brooks would have to enjoy my company damp. I hadn’t counted on the Tavern being as crowded as it was, but that was my own fault. It was a Friday in the Thicket, and this was where the action was.
I spotted Mal and Brooks taking up one side of a table in the back of the restaurant, chatting with a vaguely familiar guy standing nearby, and I steeled myself to be social when all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and stew over what an idiot I’d been.
Diesel Church, actually kissing me? I’d be more likely to be struck by lightning during a shark attack right here in middle Tennessee. Our relationship was fake. Fake, fake, fake. And the sooner I actually convinced myself of that, the better off I’d be.
I summoned a smile and superglued it to my face. “Hey, guys!” I shook hands with Brooks and Mal as I slid into the booth across from them. “Beau not here yet?”
Mal and Brooks exchanged a look.
“No,” Mal said. “Actually, he called Brooks a little while ago and said he couldn’t make it.” He shrugged. “Just us chickens tonight.”
The word chickens should not have made me think of Diesel and his pets, so I pretended it didn’t.
I frowned and glanced from Mal to Brooks to the guy standing by the table. “Is Beau sick? Maybe I should call him and see if he’s okay.”
“N-no!” Brooks said. “You can’t! He specifically said to tell you not to call him. At all. Because he’s doing great.”
“What?” I shook my head. “If he’s great, why would he—?”
Mal rolled his eyes and jabbed Brooks in the side. “Brooks, my one true love, you’re being rude.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Brooks rubbed his side and smiled broadly. “Parrish Partridge, meet Tucker Wright.”
Mal leaned over the table slightly. “Doctor Tucker Wright.”
“Hey.” Tucker Wright had russet-colored hair, freckles, and a sweet, slow smile that emerged when I extended my hand to shake his. “Good to meet you.”
“Same.”
“So, Brooks and Tuck were just explaining the concept of the Lickin’ Pickin’ to me,” Mal said with a kind of enthusiasm I’d honestly rarely seen from him. “It’s a fall fun fair for charity, and Brooks and I missed it last year because we were out of town, which is so sad because it sounds like literally the most fun a person could ever have in their life.”
I blinked. “Uh. Is it much different from the Lickin’ Festival?”
Licking Thicket had recently had its big annual festival… or so I’d thought. How many football throws and ice-cream-eating contests and milk-based relay races could one town handle?
“Like night and day,” Tucker said with no trace of irony. “Whole different thing.”
“No dairy products, for one thing,” Brooks agreed. “And it’s not an entire week long.”
“No,” Tucker said with a chuckle. “Can you imagine? Shutting down the town for seven whole days again, right after the Lickin’?”
Brooks shook his head at the very idea. “That would be crazy.”