“Joyous Pickin’ Tidings,” I whispered.
Diesel ran one huge hand over my head to clasp the back of my neck and hauled me against his side. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Those were some damn joyous Pickin’ tidings, alright.”
I felt my cheeks flame, so I buried my nose in the soapy sandalwood smell of his T-shirt and nodded.
“Hey! Why the heck are we letting the young people have all the fun?” Amos Nutter demanded of the entire assembled crowd. “Whaddya say, Emmaline?”
“Oh!” Ms. Emmaline flushed pink. “Well… alright!”
He bent down and pecked her cheek. “Joyous Pickin’ Tidings!”
She clutched a hand to her cheek and giggled, “Joyous Pickin’ Tidings!”
Then suddenly literally everyone was doing it—Red and Cindy Ann Johnson, Latonya and Maureen from the grocery store, Miss Sara and a lady from the Thicket Beautification Corps, Ollie and Kendra Nutter, Mario from the vegetarian place and Chad from the library. Cries of “Joyous Pickin’ Tidings” and laughter filled the air.
“Ah, what the hell,” Dunn said.
He slung his arm around Tucker’s shoulder and pulled him in close. I saw Tucker’s eyes flare wide half a second before Dunn pressed a kiss to his lips.
And then another, smaller one.
And then one more.
“Dunn Johnson.” A curly-haired lady in a pink T-shirt stepped up to our little group and folded her arms over her chest. “What in tarnation are you doing?”
Dunn straightened. “Kissing Tucker. Duh.”
“But… you’re straight.”
“Well, yeah, but he’s my best friend.”
“But you can’t just…”
“It’s tradition, Jenn.” He rolled his eyes. “Go find your own best friend.”
The woman turned on her heel and stomped off.
Dunn kissed Tucker one final time, then cleared his throat. “Joyous Pickin’ Tidings, Tuck,” he said solemnly.
“Yeah. Uh. Joyous Pickin’ Tidings to you too.” Tucker’s face was nearly as pink as Ms. Emmaline’s. His eyes met mine across the little space between us. He looked up at Diesel, then back to me, and he smiled. “Joyous Pickin’ Tidings, Parrish.”
“Okay, all y’all are insane in the membrane,” Stewie pronounced, throwing his hands up. “Clearly you and your fiancé fit in perfectly here,” he told Diesel.
“Aww. You feeling left out?” Diesel asked without cracking a smile. “’Cause you’re not my close friend, but I could—”
“Do not complete that sentence.” He rolled his eyes. “Parrish, I came all the way out here ’cause I need you to sign a couple forms for me so I can file ’em first thing tomorrow. Diesel already did his.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course,” I agreed, glad I hadn’t totally fucked up my chance at helping Diesel and Marigold. “Whatever you need.”
Stewie nodded his head toward the entrance. “They’re back in my car. Just a hop, skip, and a wagon ride that way,” he said dryly.
“Sure. I’ll go with you—”
“We’ll go with you,” Diesel corrected in his grumbly voice, and I couldn’t lie, entire colonies of bright-winged butterflies swirled and swooped in my stomach. I was totally screwed where this guy was concerned, and maybe it was crazy not to run as far as I could in the other direction, but that hadn’t worked real well so far, so maybe I should just let myself enjoy it while it lasted.
“We’ll go,” I confirmed.
“But you’ll come back,” Mal said. “Right? You’ll come back to hang with me and Brooks and Tucker? Huh? Huh?”
“Malachi, let it go,” Ava said firmly.
“But no! Remember we agreed that it would be so cute if—”
“Mal, honey, you remember the time we went to Coachella? Remember the guy who came with us?”
Mal rolled his eyes. “Your salon manager’s one gay cousin she wanted you to set me up with. Boris. Benny. Barney?”
“Jason. And remember the guy you met there? The one who explained piercings to you?”
“Pablo,” he supplied with no hesitation. “Oh.” He looked from me to Tucker, then to me and Diesel. “Ohhhh.”
“Uh-huh.” Ava patted his arm consolingly.
“But my matchmaking crown!” Mal complained.
“Maybe set your sights higher,” Brooks suggested with a sideways glance at Tucker. “I have some ideas.” He pulled Mal away from the group. “Come stroll with me and I’ll tell you all about it, and you can tell me about Pablo with the piercings. I feel like I have a lot to thank him for.”
“Literally crazy,” Stewie grumbled as he led us back toward the entrance.
But with Diesel’s arm wrapped around me, even temporarily, I was pretty sure Mal had it right earlier. For this one moment, it felt kinda crazy-perfect, and I just wished I could keep it.
8
Diesel
My brain and heart were fighting WWE style. On the one hand, my heart was mooning stupidly over kissing Parrish’s sweet mouth. Feeling his slender body under my hand and his soft lips against mine was one of the single best moments of my life. It was a dream come true.
On the other, my brain kept replaying those same lips on Tucker Wright’s mouth. I’d wanted to punch something, namely, Tucker Wright. But the look of horror on Parrish’s face when he saw me calmed me a little, enough, at least, to keep from getting arrested for assault right there at the Pickin’.