Page 63 of Just One of the Groomsmen
She aimed a ridiculously cute dirty look his way.
“Butif you need a rescue tomorrow afternoon, give me a call, and I’ll drop everything to swoop in and save you.”
“Why is it that I’m less annoyed by the thought of you savin’ me from a dress shop than an overly aggressive dude hell-bent on proving how tough he is on the football field?”
“Because”—he reached over and flicked her ponytail—“you’re a little weird.”
The eye roll came out, but so did the crease by the side of her mouth that hinted at a smile.
They bumped down the rutted road, and Addie grasped the bar over the window—if she thought this was rough, she should’ve been with him when he high-centered the Prius.
A few minutes later, the headlights illuminated the north side of the shed.
Addie leaned forward and squinted out the window. “If I didn’t know you so well, this would be the part where I’d realize way too late that we were in the middle of nowhere, and my fight-or-flight response would kick in as I deduced that you’d obviously brought me here to kill me.”
“Sounds like you’ve been watching too many crime dramas.” He cut the engine. “Guess this is the moment when I get to see just how much you trust me.”
Without a moment of hesitation, she reached for the door handle, and for such a small gesture, the fact that she did trust him sent pure sunshine through his chest.
He bailed out and rounded the hood, and his countless mental reminders about not screwing up their friendship weren’t enough to stop him from putting his hand on her lower back as they headed to the shed.
He really should decide one way or the other, because like all the drug counselors warned, if you didn’t decide to say no, when presented with the temptation, you’d kiss the hell out of your best friend and get addicted.
Or some such.
“I reckon the rough roads are why you needed to buy a truck?” she asked.
“Yeah, the one time I drove the car you like to mock out here, I was pretty sure I’d never get back home. The alignment is still off thanks to getting high-centered a few times. I borrowed Easton’s truck here and there, but I wanted to hold off dumping money into a vehicle until I was sure I could even pull off this crazy harebrained scheme I came up with.”
“Curiouser and curiouser.” She gestured to the shed doors. “May I?”
“Go for it.”
She swung them open and stepped inside. The dusty, stale scent remained in the air, although now cedar and paint mixed in, freshening up the place. “It’s a boat.”
She looked at him, her eyebrows ticking together.
“Are you a land-boat captain? ’Cause I gotta say, I’m not sure if those are in very high demand these days.”
“Smart-ass.”
He moved next to her, picked up her hand, and placed it on the boat.
“Feel this?” He dragged her fingers along the bow that’d been weatherworn and splintered a month ago. “Smooth, right?”
A smile crept across her lips, suspicion in the curve. “A little too smooth.”
He realized she was teasing him, not so much speaking to the boat. Did that mean she was onto him? Maybe they did know too much about each other, but he liked that he knew so much about her.
That she ate her burgers from the outside in so that the last bite was perfect.
That she went overboard on her poker face, to the point sometimes she appeared to be having a stroke.
That she could pivot on the football field in ways he only dreamed of doing.
And that she was still scared of gators, even though she’d deny it for the sake of keeping up appearances. And possibly so he wouldn’t make her watch another scary movie about them.
“So, why exactly am I feeling up a boat?”
