Page 42 of Just One of the Groomsmen
And Winter Festival was even further away, although that was what the fluffy white fabric and lights brought to mind. Since they only had a smattering of snowflakes once in a blue moon, they had to manufacture their own.
“That’s what tulle looks like, in case you were wonderin’, and this is supposed to be a test run for the wedding I might no longer be a part of.” Addie hiked the string of lights higher on her shoulder. “And if you tell people I’m the town decorator, I’ll have no choice but to punch you in the face or kick you in the balls.”
She raised an eyebrow and hitched her knee a few inches.
“Dealer’s choice.”
His blood heated even as the now-threatened body part shriveled at the thought. He tried to focus on what else she’d said. “Things still rough with Lexi?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t spoken to her since poker night. I talked to Shep on Monday and gave him her winnings, along with this stupid note, but she hasn’t called. Now I’m trying to figure out how much tulle she needs as some sort of twisted peace offering. I think I’d rather go the pipe-smoking route, but this is about her, so…” Her hand came over the center of his chest, and his heart kicked up its speed in response. “Um, Tucker? Are you gonna let me leave the ladder anytime soon?”
“And give you room to follow through on your threats? No way.”
He’d tried to get some space from her over the past few days. He’d worked nonstop on his boat and had even texted Brittany to prove he wasn’t hung up on Addie and absolutely did not care about how her date with the dentist went.
He’d foolishly hoped a little distance would snuff out the spark of desire that’d ignited Saturday night, but there it was again.
Igniting, spreading. Until his whole body blazed with its warmth.
A bark broke the spell, and then the cloudy fabric at their feet went flying as his puppy clamped on to it and bounded down the steps of the gazebo.
“Oh, shit,” Addie yelled, stumbling after him and grasping for the edges of the material. “I told Lottie I just needed to borrow some tulle for a little while and promised I’d bring it back good as new. She’s gonna sic the Craft Cats on me.”
That news jolted Tucker into motion, and the two of them ran after the puppy, desperately trying to catch him before he managed to completely destroy the flimsy cloth.
Over the trail, slightly muddy from the recent rain. Across the grass. Underneath the benches—well, the puppy went under, they went over, and even with them circling around, it took forever to corner him.
Addie finally snagged one end, only when she tugged, his dog sank his teeth into it, ecstatic to play tug-of-war, the way he and Tucker did with his rope toy.
“Don’t rip it, don’t rip it,” Addie said, letting him have some slack but keeping her grip on the fabric.
Tucker approached the dog the way a cop might approach an armed-and-dangerous subject. He snapped his fingers. “Come ’ere, boy. I’ll give you a treat.”
With a growl, the puppy tugged, slowly backing under the bench, and Tucker dove, his sights set on the end of the leash.
Finally, his fingers wrapped around the rope, and he reeled in his puppy, who was so happy from their game that he licked his face.
Tucker grimaced at Addie, who was holding the mangled ball that didn’t look quite as white as it had a few minutes ago. He gathered his dog to his chest and straightened. “How bad is it?”
“Um, it’s kinda green, and there’s a significant amount of mud. Maybe if I can slip it to my grandm—”
“Was that the fabric I lent you?” Lottie strode across the town square, nostrils flaring.
Damn her fabric shop for having that window facing the park. Not to mention her sixth sense that alerted her to everything happening in town.
“I should’ve known better. I told myself that you’d grown up, but add in this Crawford boy”—she swung an arm his way—“and there you go rollin’ in the mud again.”
His eyes met Addie’s over Lottie’s head, and then he had to fight back his laughter. He didn’t remember rolling in the mud with her.
He wasn’t totally opposed to the idea, though. “Sorry, Lottie. It’s my fault, and I’ll pay for the fabric. My puppy just got overexcited.”
He pointed the puppy at her, hoping the big eyes would soften her heart.
Lottie sighed but reached out a hand to pat his head. “What’s his name?”
Tucker had been working on it, and had even tried out a few monikers, but nothing fit.
As he glanced from the dog to Addie, it came to him—a bolt of inspiration, one might say. “His name is Flash.”
