Page 18 of Peacocks

Tucker nodded and pushed his glasses up. “I know, baby. But I think Lane was confused when you mentioned that Bernie sleeps in the house, under the dining room table.”

“Only sometimes,” Dunn scoffed. “Like for safety, when it’s storming.” He frowned. “Or when she seems lonely. Or when there are new episodes ofBridgerton. But otherwise, she’s out in her pen. Which I told him.”

“You did,” Tucker agreed. “You sure did. But I think… I think maybe when you explained that there was running water in the pen and that you’d taught Bernie to operate the lever in case she needed a shower, that might have increased the confusion?—”

“Pffft. That’s just responsible livestock ownership.”

“—and when you explained the part about how you had us draw up wills and list Parrish and Diesel as her guardians if something should happen to both of us… well, I can see where Lane’s confusion came from, that’s all I’m saying.”

“We agreed we need someone we know will administer her trust correctly.” Dunn grabbed Tucker’s hand. “But that doesn’t make her apet, Tuck. That’d be silly.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Tucker soothed. He laid his free hand atop Dunn’s. “The more I think about it, I can’t imagine where Lane got that idea.”

“Well, I’m sure Lane was just doing his job and taking care of his client,” I said, a bit more hotly than maybe I should have.“He’s anexcellentvet and a good man. A great man. Thebestman.” I glared at him.

Dunn raised one brow at me, his grievances seemingly forgotten. “Oh,reeeeally? Tell me more.”

Tucker shot a look at Dunn and wiggled their joined hands. “No. Stand down, Cindy Ann.”

Dunn’s eyes twinkled with humor, but he didn’t look away from me as he responded to his man. “I’m not my mother. And even if I was, that’s hardly an insult. Cindy Ann Johnson is a saint on Earth.”

Tucker and I exchanged a look. Dunn’s mother, Cindy Ann, was a lovely, kind woman… and possibly the biggest matchmaker and gossip east of the Mississippi.

“But we aren’t talking about her,” Dunn continued. “We’re talking about Doc Nonchalant.” He grinned. “He’s cute, your doc. Not, like, Tucker-cute, but cute.”

I felt my face get hot… not because of anything related to the conversation, of course. Barbecue restaurants in general were overheated. It was a side effect of good brisket. “He’s not mine.”

“No?” Dunn took a slow swallow of sweet tea while continuing to study me. “I thought the guy was staying over your garage?”

Tucker nodded. “Isn’t he your tenant? We thought he moved in after Charlie moved out.”

“He is, but…” I shook my head. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You’re his landlord, so I figure you know him better than most. And there are all kinds of new guys moving into town now that Champ is expanding his security company. We might need to set him up.”

Tucker rolled his eyes behind his glasses and fake-coughed the words,Cindy Ann. Dunn ignored him.

I inhaled slowly to keep from snapping. “Far as I know, Lane’s not dating anyone,” I said. “Not… notseriously, anyway. Probably wants a smart guy. Someone in… in management or something.”

Dunn’s teasing grin faded. “What do you mean? This guy a snob?” He shot Tucker a look. “See? This is what comes of people calling livestockpets.”

“Hush, baby.” Tucker reached over and massaged Dunn’s shoulder. “Dunn’s sensitive about these things. He wants to make sure you’re being respected.”

“Respected?” I glanced back and forth between them. “I don’t get it.”

“When Dunn and I got together, some folks—not anyone close to us, butsomefolks—wondered if we’d be a good match,” Tucker explained. “They figured we’re too different.”

Dunn snorted. “’Cause I’m so shit with words that I can’t do theNew York Timescrossword, even on a Monday, and ’cause Tucker gets trampled when he tries to help me get the cows into the milking pen. Such bullshit. We were best-best friends for years because our hearts are the same, no matter how different our lives are on the outside, and I fell in love with Tucker before I even realized I wasn’t straight. If love can conquerthat, let me tell you, it can conquer anything.”

Tucker’s eyes looked a little shiny. “You’re fuckinggreatwith words when it counts, Dunn Johnson,” he said fiercely. He cleared his throat. “But we’re getting sidetracked. We were talking about Jay and Doc Lane.”

“Nope. No. We weren’t. There’s no me and Doc Lane!” I insisted because it was true, even if I wished it weren’t. “We’re friendly. Landlord and tenant. It’s totally… totally normal. Normal as can be. Like, Norm. Al.”

The two of them exchanged a look before Dunn pulled a clean paper napkin out of the wooden box on the table. Hepointed to the blank surface. “This right here is a list of all the times someone said something was normal when it was actually normal.”

I closed my eyes and took a breath. “No, really. Can we change the subject, please? Brickle McNair—you know, the sheriff’s deputy—came through the car wash today with a Jeep covered in camellia blossoms. Do you know the only camellia in town that’s in bloom right now? It’s the one at Jessica Greely’s house.” I bounced my eyebrows, waiting for them to process the juiciest piece of Thicket gossip to come out of the car wash in days.

Tucker looked confused. “Camellias aren’t blooming this time of year. What gives?”

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