“Speaking of which, I wouldn’t be opposed to her maybe not mentioning that to people anymore,” he said. “Suddenly I’m the entire town’s lawyer, and I’m not even really practicing law right now.”
Addie clapped him on the back. “Good luck with that, Crawford. I think I can speak for Mom and say we know better than to try to talk Nonna out of things.”
Flash pawed at her ankles, either needy or bored, and Addie scooped him up. Even though her T-shirt didn’t have anywhere to go, she still checked that it’d stayed put.
“Okay, I best get goin’.” Instead of moving, Mom smiled at them, and that prickling sense of foreboding crept across Addie’s skin. “It’s so good to see you two together again. Addie’s been real lonely since you left, Tucker, and I’m so glad you’re back.”
Since she’d just admitted that his moving away had sucked, Addie supposed it wasn’t absolutely horrible, although “real lonely” also sounded like “desperate and crying into her ice cream.”
Which she’d only done once, for the record, and she’d been PMS-ing hard and had unknowingly picked one of those movies where someone tragically dies at the end.
It was the most extenuating of circumstances, and she’d never been so glad to be all alone in her life.
Mom chirped a goodbye and, her mind assumedly preoccupied with which pie to bake on Sunday, headed toward the grocery store.
In dire need of a subject change, Addie said, “Joke’s on you. My grandma’s supposed to be eating healthier, so that pie you’re preemptively drooling over is gonna be a low-fat, low-sugar version. We all pretend it’s as good—even Nonna does, although she sometimes sneaks in sugar while Mom’s not looking. Then there’s the mashed potatoes. My mom’s taken to making them with cauliflower instead of spuds, and spoiler alert: they taste like disappointment, even smothered in gravy.”
Tucker cracked a smile. “Compared to the prepackaged pasta meals I’ve been making as of late, it’ll still be a step up, I’m sure.”
His expression changed, too much concern in the set of his features, and he was undoubtedly thinking about how lonely her mom told him she’d been.
Since she couldn’t handle pity or anything resembling it, she thrust the wiggly puppy in her arms at him. “I’d better go pick up my grandma.”
“Addie…”
She shook her head and gave him her most serious, don’t-say-it glare. “If you even think of saying somethin’ sappy or utter the word ‘lonely,’ I’ll be forced to slug you, and thenyou’llbe the one who gets pity-filled looks—not from me, of course, but I’m sure someone will come over and give you an ice pack.”
He held Flash in front of his face like a shield. “Please, not in front of the puppy.”
She grabbed his wrist and lowered the dog enough that she could see Tucker’s blue eyes. “I’m serious. My mom was exaggerating. You know how obsessed with coupling this town is—they refuse to believe anyone could be happy single and living alone. I like my life.”
Mostly liked it most of the time, anyway. No comment on the occasional loneliness, or how she’d recently tried to make it work with a guy who still hadn’t inspired any sparks.
Obviously she needed new spark plugs or to fix her faulty wiring because she was misfiring, feeling things for the wrong guy, and that could mess up everything, andugh.
She could really use a ball to kick or throw right now. Maybe even someone to tackle, but not the guy nearest her—that was a bad idea all around.
“What about your job?” Tucker asked.
“I’m workin’ on it.”
For someone who’d felt all kinds of motivated and on top of things earlier today, she felt distinctly not on top of them now. With Tucker back and the rest of the guys here, things would be just like old times, and those occasional bouts of loneliness would be a blip in the rearview mirror.
No reason to panic or start worrying she might be what got left behind.
Even if Shep’s fiancée no longer liked her and that meant seeing less of him. The weirdo attraction vibes between her and Tucker were messing with their carefree relationship, and the more she thought about it, the surer she was that they were one-sided.
Tucker liked cheerleaders and beauty queens. Tall, skinny girls who wore sexy underwear more often than not.
Girls like Brittany.
Jealousy rushed in, and seriously, what the hell?
Twenty-eight years of being fairly detached and free of mushy feelings, and every single emotion decided to come at her at once?
So not cool.
It made her feel like a girl, and she didn’t like it.