Fools (Licking Thicket 3)

“But she din’ eat ’em,” he mumbled. “So it does’n coun’.” He rolled even closer, stretched out a hand and banged it around the mattress until he found mine, then set it back on his head. “Mmm. G’night, Tuck.”

Maybe for him it would be, but there was absolutely no way I’d ever be able to sleep like this, when I didn’t know what Dunn was thinking or what would happen the next morning.

The next thing I knew, Dunn was standing beside the bed fully dressed and staring down at me. Thin, gray light seeped through the shutters on the window.

I quickly shut my eyes and kept my breathing even, hoping he couldn’t tell I was awake.

“Tuck?” His voice was sleepy-gruff, and it was sexy as all hell. I did not need to know that. “Gotta go milk the cows.”

Did he want me to go with him? I sometimes did, when we had to head home from the cabin or whatever, and I even enjoyed it, but today? When it was time for the reckoning, where I’d learn the cost of last night? “Mph. Sleeping.”

I could feel him hesitate. “You and me… we’ll talk later, okay?”

Oh, sure. We’d talk. Yeah. That totally didn’t strike fear into my heart. “Mmmmph,” I muttered noncommittally.

He hesitated again, then leaned down and brushed a kiss over my forehead. “My best, best friend,” he said affectionately.

The second he left, my eyes popped open.

His best, best friend? That… did not sound promising for continuing shenanigans. Which was fine.

I was pretty sure.

But then, the kiss… that was very, very new.

Was it a romantic thing? Or an “I’m so comfortable with my heterosexuality after a night of unsuccessful experimentation that I can now kiss all my friends” kind of thing?

Jesus Christ, I had no idea. I was more mixed up than a milkshake, as my Nana Aarons used to say.

I jumped out of bed and was in the shower with a head full of herbal suds—which now reminded me of Dunn, even though it was my shampoo, which was unfair—when I heard Carter’s voice in my head from last night.

“Josh was just having fun… Curious, I guess… looking for a reason not to marry his on-again-off-again girlfriend… his itch had been scratched.”

I blinked the shampoo out of my eyes.

That was really the most likely thing, wasn’t it? So… I was going to do what I’d promised I’d do last night. Be a supportive friend. If being with me this way wasn’t his thing… well, then… okay.

I puttered around the house for a couple of hours, rinsing out my wineglass from last night, taking stock of my secret stash of cookies, tidying my office, and even doing a crossword, but I couldn’t settle to anything. Sundays were usually my free days, the days I spent with Dunn or with the Johnsons or both, but I felt weirdly out of sorts. I took off my glasses, grabbed a jacket, and headed down to the coffee shop for a muffin.

Just the walk helped get me out of my head, and so did the ten or so people who stopped me to say hello and have a quick chat. There was more to my life than Dunn Johnson, and I needed to remember that.

I pulled open the door to the shop, and Ava Siegel tackle-hugged me. “Oh my God, if you didn’t show up I was gonna fake appendicitis so I could come talk to you! What happened at the Steak ’n Bait last night?”

“What? Nothing!” Oh, motherfucking duckbills. Had someone seen me and Dunn in the parking lot? I could barely swallow. “We are friends.”

“Not what Jenn said,” Ava singsonged.

Wait, Jenn knew?

“She said y’all were holding hands. And he said he’s known you for years.” She grinned broadly. “And he made it sound like it was in a biblical sense.”

“Huh?”

Ava nudged her head toward the back corner of the shop, where Carter sat chatting with Jenn Shipley and Cindy Ann Johnson.

Three of the four people I least wanted to talk to just then, all together. Yay.

But it was too late to turn around, especially with Ava dragging me over to the table by my elbow. And when we got close, Carter looked up and flashed me a “Save me!” look.

“Uh. Hey. Morning, all.” I lifted a hand in greeting.

Jenn gave me a surprisingly friendly smile, all things considered, but Cindy Ann looked a little concerned.

“Honey bear!” Carter said, pulling out the chair beside him. “Come sit by me. Mrs. Johnson—”

“Cindy Ann,” she corrected, wagging a finger.

“Cindy Ann,” Carter agreed. “She’s just been telling me how many gay men there are in Licking Thicket and the surrounding towns.” He gave me a desperate look. “Who knew?”

“Tucker did,” Cindy Ann said proudly. “He runs a charity to raise money for LGBT youth programs.”

I smiled wanly.