Page 4 of Sweet T

“That would be amazing. I thought Chuck had an exclusive with Brody and his bread.”

Tucker flashed a grin. She couldn’t see his amber eyes behind the classic Ray-Ban sunglasses. But if she could, she would recognize the twinkle as one she’d known her whole life.

“He has an exclusive with Brody—that’s for sure.”

She nudged him. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. But there're all kinds of bread, Shel. Chuck said Brody will just do a different sandwich bun for me. Sourdough, rye, or whatever. A different type than what he currently does at the Holy Smoke.”

“Gotcha. You know, I still don’t get why you and Chuck never got together... him having a restaurant, and you having a tavern and all.”

Tucker combed fingers through his dirty-blond hair, shrugging. “We’re friends. He’s like a brother to me. Anything more would be weird. Kinda like you.”

Shelly and Tucker were probably the nearest you could be to siblings without being related. They’d known each other their whole lives, swimming in the very pool they were sitting at now since they were toddlers.

“Now, that would be weird. I’d like to see you with someone, though.”

“You and Daddy P both. I’m not rushing it. I’ve got a business to run, things to do. Romance can wait.”

Shelly put her phone down. “This can too. It’s fucking hot. I’m going in. You coming?”

“In a minute. I want to keep thinking about this stuff while it’s still fresh on my mind.”

“Suit yourself. I gotta cool my brain off first. I’ll think better.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shelly stood, adjusting her swimsuit. She tossed her sunglasses on the lounger, took a few steps toward the pool’s edge, and dove in.

Tucker watched her backstroke to the center of the pool, then sink down to the bottom before resurfacing.

“How is it?”

“Perfect,” she said, wiping water from her eyes. “I was burning up.”

“I have to admit, you look pretty hot in that bikini. Es muy dorado. Metálico.”

“Why, Mr. Shepherd,” Shelly said, eyes batting with saccharine modesty. “I’m surprised you even noticed.”

“It looks great on you. The gold picks up the highlights in your hair.”

“Spoken like a true gay man.”

“I call ’em like I see ’em.” Tucker stood, removing his t-shirt, shoulders broad and tan.

“Don’t you splash me.”

“Would I ever?” He stepped out of his flip-flops.

“Yes, you would. You always do.”

“Nope. I would never... even... consider—” Tucker said while running and leaping high above the water.

Shelly gasped, watching in horror as Tucker, airborne, gathered his legs, rounding himself into a massive cannonball. When his substantial weight smacked the water, a mini tidal wave washed over her. Shelly screamed with laughter.

When he resurfaced, she used both of her skinny arms to throw water at him. “Fuck you, white boy.”

Tucker laughed. “You know, you get that saucy humor from your mother.”

---