Page 1 of Just One of the Groomsmen
Chapter One
The houseboat came into view and Addie’s excitement level went from its already high seven to a solid ten. An emergency meeting had been called, and all the guys were going to be in attendance. Every single one, including the guy she’d been dying to see for so long that she’d almost worried their sporadic phone calls, texts, and messages were the only way they’d ever communicate again.
Addie pulled up next to the sleek compact car she’d have to make fun of later—right now it meant that Tucker Crawford was here in the flesh, and within a few minutes, the rest of the gang would be as well.
She wasn’t sure why Shep had called the meeting, but it took her back to high school, when so many of their evenings and weekends were spent here at the Crawfords’ houseboat.
Lazy afternoons and countless poker games; impromptu parties that usually got them busted for one thing or another; and nights spent celebrating team wins or commiserating over losses, whether it was the high school team that the guys had all played for, War Eagle football, or the NFL, on which they were a house divided—it’d led to some of her and Tucker’s most heated exchanges.
The scent of cypress trees, swampy lake water, and moss hit her as she climbed out of the beater truck she often drove, and since she was hoping for a minute or two with her very best and oldest friend before everyone else showed up, she rushed down the pathway. “Tucker?”
“Addie?”
She heard his voice but didn’t see him. Then she rounded the front of the boat, where the chairs and grill were set up, and there he was.
Even taller and wider than she remembered, his copper-brown hair styled shorter than he wore it in high school, although the wave in it meant there were always a couple of strands that did their own thing.
A laugh escaped as she took a few long strides and launched herself at him, her arms going around his neck. “I’ll be damned, you actually made it this time.”
Using the arm he’d wrapped around her lower back, he lifted her off her feet and squeezed tight enough to send her breath out over his shoulder. “I’m sorry for accidentally standing you up a few times. It’s stupid how hard it’s been to get away this past year.”
“That’s what happens when you go and become some big city lawyer.”
Despite working at the law firm for nearly two years, he was still one of the junior attorneys, which meant he ended up doing all the time-consuming research for the partners, and even their calls and texts had slowed to a trickle. Before that, law school had kept him plenty busy, and while she wasn’t usually the mushy hugger-type, she didn’t want to release him yet, just in case she had to go another five or six months without seeing him.
She pulled back to get another look at him, taking in the familiar blue eyes, his strong, freshly shaven jawline, and— “Holy crap, dude. When did you get so jacked? Is lifting bulky legal files muscle building? If so, maybe I should start recommending it as part of my clients’ therapy regimens.”
His gaze ran over her as well, most likely assessing the ways she’d changed—or more likely hadn’t. “Isn’t it about time for a new sweatshirt?” He yanked one of the frayed, used-to-be-black strings. “That one’s looked ratty since our first year of college.”
She gasped and shoved him. “Hater. Just becausemyFalcons made it further in the playoffs than your Saints did last season. And don’t even try to tell me you’ve thrown out your beat-up baseball cap that practically grafted itself to your head during high school. Or maybe you don’t wear it anymore so you can show off your fancy-pants forty-dollar lawyer haircut.”
She reached up and ran her hand through his hair, loosening the hold the gel had on it.
Much better.
There was the boy who’d once landed her in detention because he’d dared her to put superglue on the teacher’s whiteboard markers while he distracted him with a question. The boy who’d challenged her to a deviled-egg-eating competition at the town festival and then moped about her beating him—to this day, the sight or scent of a deviled egg still made her stomach roll.
He grinned, every inch the laid-back Tucker Crawford she’d grown up with once again, and just like that, all seemed right in Uncertainty, Alabama.
“Crawford? Where you at?” Shep’s booming voice hit them a few seconds before he, Easton, and Ford rounded the corner and stepped onto the back deck.
“Murph!” they yelled when they saw her, and then they exchanged high fives, shoulder punches, and a few bro-hugs on their way to give Tucker the same treatment.
Addie saw the rest of the guys around town here and there, but it was harder to get together now that everyone had careers and other obligations.
Funny how in high school they couldn’t wait to get older so they could do whatever they wanted, and instead they ended up having less free time than ever.
Shep placed two six-packs of Naked Pig Pale Ale, the best beer in all of Alabama, on top of a big planter that only held dirt, since the neglected plants had shriveled up and died long ago. “Before we get this party started, I guess I should let you know what we’re celebrating.”
The hint of worry Addie had felt since receiving the urgent text evaporated. The message had been so vague—typical guy, although her mom and sister accused her of the same thing.
Addie sat on the edge of the table, and when Tucker bumped her over with his hip, she scooted. The table wobbled, and Tucker’s hand shot out and gripped her upper arm as she worked to rebalance herself.
He chuckled. “Guess we’re heavier than we used to be.”
She scowled at him. “Hey! Speak for yourself.”
“Right. It must be all my jacked muscles.”
