Page 26 of The First Best Man

Before I can fall even further down that rabbit hole of insanity, Blaine complains about the early hour, and Tucker rolls his eyes before shooting me a wink. I instantly relax, and when I take a seat at the large table the staff set up for breakfast, he slides into the chair next to me without hesitation. I tamp down the little spark of excitement that ignites in my chest and force myself to remember the conclusion I came to this morning––we’re only friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be.

As soon as the server delivers our burritos, Blainegroans with a deep frown. “Is there anything else? I overdid it with the carbs last night, and I can’t eat this.”

I open my mouth to offer to have the cook make her a plate of eggs, but before I can speak, Logan cuts in, barking, “Just open the tortilla and eat the filling, Blaine. You’ll be fine.”

As Blaine harrumphs and does as Logan instructed, Tucker leans in and whispers, “They’re not filled with chili-cheese fries, are they? Please say they are.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Nope. Just eggs, meat, and cheese.”

“Damn it,” he sighs, making me laugh again.

Unfolding my tortilla and spreading it open, I grab the bowl of sour cream from the center of the table and dollop some on before shaking some hot sauce on top and re-folding the burrito. Tucker nods and does the same, then lifts his burrito toward me like he’s toasting with a drink before taking a big bite.

I smile and bite into my own burrito, and a moan of delight rumbles in my chest as the flavors burst on my tongue. I hear Tucker’s deep chuckle at the sound, but I ignore it as I chew, focusing instead on Penny as she starts to talk about today’s activity.

Because that deep chuckle does things to me Ineedto ignore. For my own sanity.

“Today is going to be so much fun,” Penny says, meeting every eye at the table to hype up the anticipation before going on. “We’re playing capture the flag!”

“Ugh,” Blaine grumbles, true to form, but Tucker perks up, straightening his spine and focusing fully on Penny.

Anticipation rolls off him, and I get the feeling he’splayed this game before and really likes it. And his excitement rubs off on me.

“Each couple gets a flag of a different color and will have one hour to hide it somewhere within the boundaries we set,” Penny instructs. “It can’t be inside a private residence, either. It needs to be fully accessible. At ten a.m., the fire chief will blow the horn on the truck, and that means it is time to start. In lieu of paintball guns, each team will have an arsenal of water balloons. If you get hit by another team, you have to remain frozen in that spot for five minutes. So look out for each other while you’re searching for flags. The first team to get an opponent’s flag and bring it to Miss Ginny at the B&B wins, and the prize is a dinner cruise around the island on Mayor Hannig’s fully staffed yacht. Any questions?”

“If we win, can Sam and I opt to bring a date with us on the cruise?” Blaine asks, openly eyeing Tucker before licking her lips.

God, she never gives up, does she?

“I’m afraid not,” Penny says. “The dinner is for two people, only. Any other questions? No? Good. Finish your breakfast, because at nine o’clock, we begin.”

I look over at Tucker and grin, and he nods firmly, whispering, “It’s in the bag.”

When everyone finishes eating, we gather outside while Logan hefts a large bin out of the back of his golf cart. When he pulls out a wide map of the island, we all study the large, red circle drawn on it, memorizing the boundaries of the game.

Digging back into the bin, he extracts three flags, holds them up, and tells us to choose. I leap forwardand snag the yellow one before anyone else can move. I have the perfect spot to hide it, all but guaranteeing us the win. Tucker watches me with questions in his eyes, and I mouth the words, “trust me.” He nods and turns his attention back to Logan, who’s passing out bulky, cross-body messenger bags filled with small water balloons.

Penny stares at her phone and holds a hand in the air. We all freeze, barely breathing until she smiles, jerks her arm downward, and shouts, “Go!”

Tucker and I race to my golf cart like a couple of kids, laughing as I hit the gas and zip away while the others are still climbing into their own carts. I tell him I’ve got the perfect spot to hide our flag, and he nods in deference to my island expertise while kicking back to enjoy the ride. We have an entire hour, so I take a long, winding, roundabout route to my destination, heading the opposite direction first to throw off the other teams before finally turning back toward the field of flowers to which I took Tucker on the first day.

He straightens when he recognizes the path, then stares at me with narrowed eyes, making me laugh and say, “No monkey jokes today, I promise.”

“And no jump scares,” he adds, staring a hole into me until I laugh and nod in agreement.

When we reach the field and pull off the road, Tucker pulls out our yellow flag and holds it up with the swath of flowers in the background. It’s a near-perfect match in color to a group of yellow flowers on the right, and he grins at me before sliding out of the cart and jogging over to the spot. Tucking the flag in themiddle, he steps back and studies it before turning back to me.

“There’s no way anyone will find it here,” he says, walking back toward me.

“You’re welcome,” I say with a laugh.

We really do have this in the bag.

But if we win, we get a private,romanticdinner cruise on the mayor’s yacht, and the mere thought sets off a kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach.

What if something happens?

What ifnothinghappens?

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