Page 36 of Just One of the Groomsmen
“I only threatened you with it, you big baby, and that was because you told me I should play right field, where the ball never goes, just so that you could catch a pop fly for once. Not my fault you were too damn slow.”
“See,” Tucker said, gesturing to her. “He didn’t know that she’d just as easily maim you as kiss you.”
Addie scowled, and while Lexi had seemed to be thawing the tiniest bit, the “kiss you” part made her withdraw her hand from Shep’s.
“Awful kissing, really,” Shep said, panic flooding his features. “Awkward enough we stopped a good month before we officially broke up and transitioned to being friends, which, again, fit us so much better.”
A twinge went through Addie’s chest, his words hurting more than she wished they did, in spite of knowing he’d said them to get them both out of this tense situation.
Chair legs scraped the floor as Lexi pushed away from the table. “I just…” Tears bordered her eyes. “I need to go.”
She headed toward the door, and Shep nearly knocked over the table when he jumped up to go after her.
And Addie just sat there, an awful pit in her gut as she kissed the idea of actually being friends with Shep’s fiancée goodbye.
Chapter Nine
Tucker finished throwing the bottles in the recycling and waited for his rambunctious puppy to finish doing his business. Then he scooped up the furball and thought way too much about how his dog had pulled down Addie’s shirt and caused an accidental peep show.
Tucker’s heart thumped hard in his chest as he replayed the flash of her sexy black bra and how she’d nearly been spilling out of it.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Or the way she’d blushed.
As he’d been trying to reiterate Shep’s point about Addie being just one of the guys, he’d told himself he needed to go back to that way of thinking.
But she was more than that—one of his very best friends, for one—and right now she was hurting.
His footsteps echoed through the quiet as he crossed the wooden deck to where Addie sat, legs dangling over the side. He lowered himself next to her. “Hey.”
She glanced at him.
Shep had taken off after his girl, and Easton and Ford said they had to get up early so they took off, too.
Obviously none of them knew how to undo what’d happened. Why the hell hadn’t Shep warned Lexi that he’d dated Addie?
Then again, it’d been eons ago, and Tucker knew as well as anyone that being friends with her brought plenty of complications to relationships.
“I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly, her words short and pinched. “It’s just that she and I sorta bonded, which doesn’t happen very often when it comes to you guys’ girlfriends, and—” Her voice cracked, and her tough facade crumbled along with it. “Oh shit, now I’m gonna cry and die twice.”
Tucker cautiously wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and when she didn’t shove him off, the way she’d done a few times back in the day when he’d dared to console her, he curled her closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it to the grave.”
“I’m not sure I can chance that. I might have to push you off the back of the boat now.”
“Sure. If I didn’t know how to swim, that’d be a fail-safe plan.”
“Maybe the gators will get to you first,” she quipped, only then she tucked her feet up, like she’d remembered there might be a few of the toothy beasts slumbering in the water, despite the fact that they rarely saw any on this side of the shore.
She swiped a tear off her cheek and sniffed.
“I hate feeling weak. Hate feeling like agirl. Even though I’m apparently not one.”
“You’re not weak. I’ve seen grown men cry in my office, so I don’t think it’s a girl or guy thing.”
“I notice you didn’t admit to crying yourself.”
He puffed out his chest. “Well, that’s because I’m far too macho.”
The last few times he’d gotten choked up had been over his dog having to be put down, his grandfather passing away, and—even though he’d done his damnedest to hide it—the day he’d said goodbye to his friends before leaving town.
