Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Dunn raised one brow at me, his grievances seemingly forgotten. “Oh, reeeeally? Tell me more.”
Tucker shot a look at Dunn and wiggled their joined hands. “No. Stand down, Cindy Ann.”
Dunn’s eyes twinkled with humor, but he didn’t look away from me as he responded to his man. “I’m not my mother. And even if I was, that’s hardly an insult. Cindy Ann Johnson is a saint on Earth.”
Tucker and I exchanged a look. Dunn’s mother, Cindy Ann, was a lovely, kind woman… and possibly the biggest matchmaker and gossip east of the Mississippi.
“But we aren’t talking about her,” Dunn continued. “We’re talking about Doc Nonchalant.” He grinned. “He’s cute, your doc. Not, like, Tucker-cute, but cute.”
I felt my face get hot… not because of anything related to the conversation, of course. Barbecue restaurants in general were overheated. It was a side effect of good brisket. “He’s not mine.”
“No?” Dunn took a slow swallow of sweet tea while continuing to study me. “I thought the guy was staying over your garage?”
Tucker nodded. “Isn’t he your tenant? We thought he moved in after Charlie moved out.”
“He is, but…” I shook my head. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“You’re his landlord, so I figure you know him better than most. And there are all kinds of new guys moving into town now that Champ is expanding his security company. We might need to set him up.”
Tucker rolled his eyes behind his glasses and fake-coughed the words, Cindy Ann. Dunn ignored him.
I inhaled slowly to keep from snapping. “Far as I know, Lane’s not dating anyone,” I said. “Not… not seriously, anyway. Probably wants a smart guy. Someone in… in management or something.”
Dunn’s teasing grin faded. “What do you mean? This guy a snob?” He shot Tucker a look. “See? This is what comes of people calling livestock pets.”
“Hush, baby.” Tucker reached over and massaged Dunn’s shoulder. “Dunn’s sensitive about these things. He wants to make sure you’re being respected.”
“Respected?” I glanced back and forth between them. “I don’t get it.”
“When Dunn and I got together, some folks—not anyone close to us, but some folks—wondered if we’d be a good match,” Tucker explained. “They figured we’re too different.”
Dunn snorted. “’Cause I’m so shit with words that I can’t do the New York Times crossword, even on a Monday, and ’cause Tucker gets trampled when he tries to help me get the cows into the milking pen. Such bullshit. We were best-best friends for years because our hearts are the same, no matter how different our lives are on the outside, and I fell in love with Tucker before I even realized I wasn’t straight. If love can conquer that, let me tell you, it can conquer anything.”
Tucker’s eyes looked a little shiny. “You’re fucking great with words when it counts, Dunn Johnson,” he said fiercely. He cleared his throat. “But we’re getting sidetracked. We were talking about Jay and Doc Lane.”
“Nope. No. We weren’t. There’s no me and Doc Lane!” I insisted because it was true, even if I wished it weren’t. “We’re friendly. Landlord and tenant. It’s totally… totally normal. Normal as can be. Like, Norm. Al.”
The two of them exchanged a look before Dunn pulled a clean paper napkin out of the wooden box on the table. He pointed to the blank surface. “This right here is a list of all the times someone said something was normal when it was actually normal.”
I closed my eyes and took a breath. “No, really. Can we change the subject, please? Brickle McNair—you know, the sheriff’s deputy—came through the car wash today with a Jeep covered in camellia blossoms. Do you know the only camellia in town that’s in bloom right now? It’s the one at Jessica Greely’s house.” I bounced my eyebrows, waiting for them to process the juiciest piece of Thicket gossip to come out of the car wash in days.
Tucker looked confused. “Camellias aren’t blooming this time of year. What gives?”
“That’s not the point,” I said at the same time Dunn pointed out Jessica’s camellia was located by her garage… which happened to be her brother’s grow house.
“The lights in there would be enough to keep my farm in bloom all winter in addition to his marijuana plants,” he muttered.
“Exactly,” I said, laughing. “So. Jessica and Brickle. Now, there’s a romance, huh? Talk about star-crossed lovers. I really hope those crazy kids manage to make it work—”
“You want him,” Tucker said softly. “You want Doc Lane.”
“You want him!” Dunn said much more loudly. Several people turned their heads to stare. I scooted down in my seat and studied the blank napkin list again in hopes of finding one instance where normal meant normal.
No luck.
Tucker reached out and patted my hand like a little old lady. “How can we help?”
I shrugged and admitted, “You can’t, Tucker. I meant what I said. Lane Desmond is above my pay grade. He’s got fancy diplomas and knows shit I’ll never know. Hell, the man reads books on self-help stuff. I work at a car wash. I graduated from Thicket High by the skin of my teeth.”