Page 93 of Just One of the Groomsmen
Seemed highly unlikely, with a side of nearly impossible, which had her wondering if she should hit the brakes now, before they could crash.
All her worries buzzed through her head, and then she wished that if she had to doubt something, it wouldn’t be the one thing she was starting to want more than anything.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It’d been ridiculously hard for Tucker to see Addie this week. There’d been dancing on Wednesday night, but earlier that day he’d finally pulled the trigger on announcing he was open for boat repairs—i.e., he’d told Lottie, and the woman was nothing if not efficient at spreading the word.
With the news also out about him taking on clients, a surprising number of Uncertainty citizens had come to see him.
Mrs. Jenson made him a sign, one he stuck on a post and placed at the end of the houseboat dock. Legal clients on the right, boat repair inquiries on the left.
Funny how many people ignored the huge sign, but between that and digging into the cases he’d taken on—and piecing together the stack of files that Flash had destroyed one night—he’d been nonstop for days.
At the end of each night, Addie texted him questions that’d become a running joke between them. “Which department have I reached? Boating or legal?”
His replies varied. “What needs repaired, ma’am, because I’m sure I have something that’d fix it,” “Would you like to debrief me?” “Do you need a conjugal visit arranged?” etc., etc.
So far, there’d only been one day where he’d had more boat inquiries, but legal still outweighed it four to one.
Then, after a guilt-trip phone call from his mom about how he was so close now and still hadn’t come to see her, he’d gone down to Montgomery to have dinner with her and her husband. It was nice enough, and it was good to see Mom, even though she’d been less than enthusiastic when he told her he was taking on some legal cases in Uncertainty.
She, like Dad, thought he should at least commute to somewhere he could “actually make enough money to support a family.” As if he hadn’t already been stressed enough about how far he was from his goals.
Meanwhile, he and Addie had continued to flirt via text, and he’d called her last night on the drive home just to hear her voice, because it turned out he was sappier than he’d realized.
The way he practically skipped toward the Old Firehouse on Sunday night only made a stronger case to support that theory.
The second he stepped inside the bar, he scanned the tables, anticipation zinging through his veins.
The rest of the guys had already arrived, and Addie sat right in the middle of the group, wearing those fucking overalls.
She glanced up and gave him a smile that sent him from revved to supercharged.
“Are you Tucker Crawford?” came from his right, and he was all set to ignore it, unable to hear another case or boat request or any other damn thing until he got his hands on Addie. But then the guy stepped into his path. “I asked if you’re—”
“Yeah, that’s me.” He cataloged the button-down shirt, designer jeans, and shiny shoes that must require constant maintenance with all the dust around town. The air of superiority that the guy propagated himself. “You must be the city-slicker lawyer I’ve heard so much about.”
“Justin Matthews,” the guy smugly said, clearly proud his reputation preceded him.
The nerve, thinking he could come in and make a name for himself by being a shark in a small town of friendly folk.
“I suppose I should thank you. Since you only care about winning, I have more clients than I can shake a stick at. Now if you’ll excuse me, I also have a game to catch.”
The guy thrust out his hand and slapped it to Tucker’s chest as he started by—evidently, he had a death wish.
“Runnin’ short on patience here, buddy,” Tucker said. “Spit it out or get outta my way.”
“They might come to you now, but I have a better case record. I know all about your stint in Birmingham, and I’m not letting go of my practice here. Henry Pike’s supposed to retire in two years and leave me to it.”
“Well, you know what they say in the lawyer biz. Shit happens. But sure, do your worst and all that. I’m real scared.”
Addie walked over and shoved her hands deep in her oversize pockets, and he could see through the gap that the shirt underneath was tight and black and 100 percent in need of removal later tonight. “You guys done with your pissin’ contest yet? I’m about to order food and drinks.”
The lawyer looked her up and down, and his pinched features left Tucker selfishly glad she’d worn the overalls. “Addison Murphy. And I thought you dressed down at the office.”
“Not anymore, thanks to something I’m sure you said. Need me to check on your shoulder?” She cracked her knuckles. “I’d love to.”
“I’ll pass. I was just informing Mr. Crawford that I don’t plan on letting go of the law practice, and that I don’t want a partner.”
