Liars (Licking Thicket 2)

Mal and Brooks strolled over to say hello, and Ava straightened.

“I tried to get this guy to join our costume group, but he wouldn’t,” she pouted, locking arms with Mal. “Mal being the Tin Man would have made the whole thing perfect. He could’ve even soldered his own costume!”

“Uh-huh, and I totally would have, Ava, honey, you know that,” Mal said. “But I couldn’t leave my fiancé out.” He fluttered his eyelashes at Brooks adoringly, and Brooks snorted.

“You’re lucky to have such a loyal future husband,” Mal informed him.

Brooks grinned and draped an arm over Mal’s shoulders. “I really am.”

“Hey, guys.” Dunn hip-checked his brother in greeting. “How’s it going? Have any of you seen Tucker?”

Diesel and I exchanged a glance and shook our heads. “The three of us literally just got here.”

“The five of us have been going through the maze,” Ava said with a shrug. “He wasn’t there.”

Dunn shook his head and sighed. “Honestly. He promised me he’d come today, but I haven’t seen him and he didn’t answer my text. I don’t know what’s up with him lately.”

“I saw him in his office the other day when Mari had the sniffles,” I volunteered. “He seemed fine.”

“Oh, sure, at work,” Dunn said darkly. “But outside of work, he’s all… weird. Do you know, he hasn’t gone fishing but once in the last month?”

I looked at Diesel, who shrugged. Once sounded like more than enough for a lifetime, but I had no idea what a respectable amount of fishing was for a man like Tucker Wright.

“I think he’s all doom and gloom because he’s been unlucky in love. Last guy who caught his eye was you, Parrish, and look how that turned out.”

I frowned. “Well, I—”

“No, no, don’t apologize.” Dunn waved a hand absently. “You weren’t right for him anyway.”

Mal shook his head and fought a smile.

“Anyway, I think he needs a date—”

“Who needs a date, handsome?” Jenn asked, wrapping her arms around Dunn’s waist from behind. “You?”

He stiffened slightly. “No. And no one. What’s going on?”

“I came to see if you wanted to come walk through the carving tent with me before the judging starts.” The woman somehow made this sound like a sexual invitation. “My brother Josh did a butternut squash that looks exactly like Munch’s The Scream.”

“Yeah?” Dunn widened his eyes and opened his mouth, just like the painting. “Oh my gourd!”

Diesel, Paul, Mal and I laughed out loud. Brooks and Ava shook their heads and grinned.

Jenn, however, looked annoyed. “Never mind. Honestly, Dunn Johnson, you’re such an idiot.”

Dunn snickered as she walked away. “It’s hard to find a woman who appreciates my sense of humor in this town.” He sighed. “I swear, that’s why I spend so much time with—”

“Tucker,” Paul said.

Dunn nodded. “Exactly.”

“No, Dunn, I mean… Tucker.” He nodded over Dunn’s shoulder, and all of us turned as a unit to see Tucker Wright kissing a cute guy in skinny jeans, thick black glasses, and a heavy cardigan.

“Well, now. Looks like he’s doing just fine in the dating department, Dunn,” Brooks remarked.

Dunn blinked at Tucker, lip-locked with the hipster, like they were a math problem he’d gotten wrong. “Tucker! Hey, Tuck! Come over here.”

Tucker’s cheeks went red when he saw all of us watching him, but he gamely led the man over to our group. “Hey. How’s it going. Um. Cyril Larson, these are my friends Diesel and Parrish, Ava and Paul, Mal and Brooks, and uh… Dunn.”

I wasn’t sure if Tucker noticed Dunn’s discomfort at being a footnote at the end of the sentence.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Dunn said abruptly. “Did you see Bernadette yet? She was a little nervous earlier, so I gave her a pep talk, but I know it would mean a lot if you gave her one too.”

“Bernadette?” I mouthed at Brooks.

Brooks rolled his eyes. “Bernadette is Dunn’s pet pig.”

“She’s not a pet,” Dunn said hotly. “She’s livestock, Brooks, Jesus. She just… happens to have a name.”

“And her own shed, away from the other pigs,” Brooks retorted. “And you named me and Tuck her guardians if anything should happen to you.”

Dunn’s face flushed. “As any good livestock owner would, yes.”

“No,” Tucker interrupted, taking the heat off Dunn. “I haven’t gotten over to the pig display yet. I’m afraid Cyril isn’t a fan of animals.”

“Not a fan of animals,” Diesel repeated slowly, like he couldn’t imagine such a thing. “Really?”

“Nor of jamborees. Nor hoedowns. Nor…” Cyril darted a glance at Amos Nutter, twerking to the band’s cover of “Sweet Home Alabama.” “Whatever you call this.”

Tucker looked crestfallen. “I’m so sorry. I thought you said you liked festivals.”

“Festivals, Tucker. Where one can appreciate music and culture. Something more refined.” Across the way, Emmaline Proud yelled, “Yee haw!” and Cyril shuddered. “Something that’s in any way refined.”

Dunn narrowed his eyes. “Hey, we are plenty refined! Why, not thirty feet from where you now stand, one of our local artists has carved a squash into a replica of Edvard Munch’s The Scream.”