Liars (Licking Thicket 2)

“Moist but majestic?” I offered.

Dunn gaped at me for a minute, then frowned and nodded. “Huh. You know, it actually kinda was.”

“Amos would be glad to hear it.”

“Back to the point,” Mal interrupted impatiently. “Parrish. Tucker. Picnic. Lurve?”

“Well.” I gnawed on my lip. I hated to disappoint him. “It’s been a real nice afternoon. Tucker and I never lacked for anything to talk about, that’s for sure.”

Dunn smiled warmly. “Yep, that’s Tuck, alright. He gets so passionate—”

“Hush, Dunn,” Mal said. “No one cares what you think about Tucker. I wanna hear what Parrish, his potential love match, thinks.”

Brooks ran a hand over his face and seemed to stifle a groan.

“Well, I think…” I looked at Mal’s eager face and faltered. “Er. That is to say…” Dunn seemed to hold his breath. “I like Tucker a lot,” I finished lamely.

“Yep.” Whatever Brooks saw on my face had him nodding resignedly. “Gotcha. Figured as much.”

“Gotcha?” Mal repeated, confused. “What’ve you got? What did you figure?” Without waiting for an answer, he barreled on, “Parrish, you and Tucker have so much in common.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Don’t you?”

“So much,” I echoed faintly. Except any chemistry whatsoever.

“Ha! Hear that?” Mal demanded of no one in particular. “I’ve basically stolen the Thicket matchmaking crown from Cindy Ann. I’m calling it right now.” He paused, considered, then waved a hand. “Admittedly, she wanted Brooks to hook up with Ava, so her crown’s a bit tarnished, but I’ll restore it to glory once you and Tuck get together.”

Brooks wrapped an arm around his fiancé’s shoulder. “Mal, baby, maybe let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s early days yet for Parrish and Tucker. Right, Parrish?”

“Early, schm-early! It took us ten seconds to fall for each other and, like, a week to admit it. Love doesn’t wear a wristwatch, Brooks,” Mal said ardently. “Right, Parrish?”

“I’m with Mal,” Dunn agreed. “Parrish knows what’s what, and he obviously recognizes there’s nobody in the world better than Tucker. He’s loyal, and funny, and smart, and he’s not ugly. Right, Parrish?”

“Well, I…” I swallowed and darted a glance down the crowded gravel path toward the entry gate which seemed really far away—too far to make a fast exit—then did a double take because I could almost swear I saw a familiar golden-brown head towering above the other Thicketeers. When I glanced back, he was gone.

Or, more likely, he’d never been there in the first place. I was pretty sure he hadn’t socialized at all since he got temporary custody of the baby, so it was really unlikely he was here now.

And wasn’t that just great? It wasn’t enough that my dreams were haunted by Diesel’s tattooed gorgeousness, now my waking hours were going to be haunted too? I was literally losing my mind, and I was pretty sure it was Diesel’s fault. I kicked at a rock on the ground and wished the line would move faster.

“Yes,” I said staunchly, because I wished it were true, “Tucker Wright is an amazing guy, and I like him a lot. A lot. I’m so glad we’ve gotten to know each other better.”

“Oh, wow.” I whirled to find Tucker standing there, a picnic blanket in his hand, a stupefied expression on his face and hearts in his eyes. “Parrish,” he whispered. Then tentatively, he added, “Honey?”

“Oh, wow,” Mal breathed, excited.

“Oh, wow.” Brooks winced.

“Oh.” Dunn looked taken aback. “Wow.”

Oh, wow.

I lifted both palms like I was stopping traffic in front of a horrible accident. “No, see, I just…”

But before I could figure out what I wanted to say, let alone force myself to spit it out, Tucker had grabbed my hand, yanked me toward him, and molded his lips to mine.

Here’s the God’s honest truth: Tucker Wright knew how to kiss. His free hand landed on my hip and held there. His lips pressed against mine, pillowy soft and with just the right firmness. He smelled like apple blossom honey. And when he swiped his tongue over my lips once before pulling away, it was very pleasant. Tingle-inducing, even. Like, seriously good, high-quality kissing that earned two thumbs up from me and for a half second there made me wonder if maybe I’d misjudged things. If maybe I should try harder.

“Good. Lord. Good frickity freakin’ Lord. What am I witnessing right now? Paul, cover baby Beau’s eyes. Diesel, cover Marigold’s eyes. Somebody, cover my eyes, or else make Tucker stop giving Parrish the world’s worst example of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!”

At the sound of Ava’s voice, I jumped away from Tucker like I was spring-loaded and pressed a shaking hand to my mouth. My eyes found Diesel’s immediately—head and shoulders above everyone, as always—and I watched emotions skitter across his face. Surprise. Sadness. Resignation. Utter blankness. Then he stared down at Marigold, who was strapped to his chest in the front carrier I’d bought him, fast asleep.