Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“For what it’s worth, Dunn didn’t leap into things with you, Tuck.” Red set his hand on my shoulder and shook it a little. “Might seem that way on the surface, but the boy fell kinda slow and gentle. Only question in my mind was whether you’d still be around once he finished falling.”
“Laws, don’t get me started.” Cindy Ann groaned. “You have no idea how hard it’s been to keep a handsome, lovable doctor from meeting a decent man all these years. I thought the gig was up when you dated sweet Parrish Partridge last fall.” She shook her head. “That was a close call.”
“I think I’ve made a huge mistake,” I admitted.
“Ah, cheer up, son. Most of my quarrels with Cindy Ann end with me saying that too.” Red patted me on the back. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”
“I’m gonna show him how much I want him,” I whispered, my mind whirling with plans. “And then I’m gonna ask him what he wants… and I’m gonna believe him.”
“Excellent,” Brooks said, rubbing his hands together. “How can we help?”
“Well, first,” I said slowly, “I’m gonna need to see a man about some vines.”
16
Dunn
7-Down: A person with whom one is friendly despite a fundamental dislike or rivalry (7 letters)
I rarely got mad. Honestly, it took a lot to get me there, and everyone knew it. Tucker, especially, knew it. But he also knew that when I finally hit my limit, I was done.
I slammed the truck door closed and peeled out of my driveway. My morning chores had gotten the shit end of the stick, and even Luisa, who was ornery on a good day, had stopped to ask me what the hell.
“You got a bug up your butt?” she’d hollered across the milking parlor where I was cleaning some equipment. “Because I already told you I cleaned those. You know, when you were sleeping late with your girlfriend like some kind of prima donna? Well, some of us were actually working for a living.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I’d snapped back.
“Fine, your boyfriend, then. Whatever. Just stop cleaning shit I already finished. You want to help, then clean out the troughs.”
I don’t have a boyfriend either, I’d almost said. But I’d bitten my tongue against even putting that negativity out there in the world. Instead, I’d kept quiet and thrown myself into work.
Now that the work was done, I had too much time to think. And none of my thoughts were good. My brain was like a spinning top that wouldn’t fall down. It kept going round and round with all of my arguments for why Tucker should listen to me and why he needed to stop treating me like I didn’t know my own damned heart. And then there was the fear, the gutshot pain of thinking he might actually want to leave here and go to Nashville. Maybe he had greater career ambitions he kept bottled up and hidden deep down.
I’d always thought he was meant for greater things than being a small-town family doc. He was smart as hell, and any big-city hospital would be lucky to have him. Tucker Wright was the kind of man who could do groundbreaking research and be known around the world for advancements in medicine. So why was he sticking around a little hick town instead? Maybe he just needed a little push. Was he waiting for me to encourage him to reach for his own stars?
If so, I was in big trouble because I wasn’t quite that selfless. It would take a stronger man than I was to fall on that sword.
Before I even knew where I was going, I was pulling into the nearby town of Great Nuthatch which had invested heavily in a brand-new welcome sign after Licking Thicket had gotten the custom one Mal had made a year and a half ago.
Their sign had been poorly designed, and the “hatch” part kept getting removed and carted away in the dead of night, which I commiserated with. My dad had spent many a sleepless night dealing with the same issues in the Thicket before our sign was made out of metal and cemented dozens of feet underground.
I pulled into an empty parking spot in a very full lot outside of the cardiologist’s office. Maybe I hadn’t thought it through, but now that I was here, I knew exactly what I needed to do.
Interrogate the douchebag Dr. McFlirt and find out exactly what the hell was going on with Tucker and this job interview thing. If Tucker moved to Nashville, I was going to have to prepare myself for the utter agony of trying to support him in that decision.
I slammed my way out of the truck and strode through the glass doors into the reception area. The waiting room was full of patients, but I was here on an important mission.