Fools (Licking Thicket 3)

“This, this, is an appropriate amount of mayo!” Gordon groaned with satisfaction.

Dunn pressed his leg against mine in a silent gesture he’d done a hundred times—a gesture that was familiar and soothing, or would’ve been at any other day and time, but in this moment just pissed me off because it was a reminder that Dunn Johnson didn’t just know the hiding places in my house, he knew the hiding places in my heart too, and I was fucking helpless against it.

“So, Gordon, you and Tuck have a lot in common! You both like science fiction.”

Gordon slurped his jalapeño popper. “You ever seen Game of Thrones? I freakin’ loved it. Red Wedding was a cinematic classic.”

I shuddered.

“Pity your sow’s past breeding age, Dunn. We could’ve had some beautiful babies,” Gordon’s mom tittered.

Aaaaand that’s when I was officially done.

More than done.

Overdone.

“This has been great, but I’m leaving. Thanks so much for—” I shrugged, unable to think of a way to end that sentence “—you know.” I dropped some cash on the table to cover Alana’s service, since I was pretty sure Gordon wouldn’t. “Y’all have a great night.” I pushed out of the booth.

“Packed this up for you to go, Doc,” Alana whispered, pushing a small container of what I fervently hoped was chocolate cake into my hand. “On the house.”

“Wait. Wait, what’s happening?” Ingrid demanded. “Gordon? Gordon! Who’s leaving?”

Gordon licked popper juice off his finger. “Tyler.”

“Tucker,” Dunn corrected hotly.

“Yeah, Tucker,” Gordon repeated. He looked up at me. “Oh, hey, if you see the waitress again on your way out, can you ask her to keep the poppers coming?”

Not if you were starving in the desert and that popper stood between you and certain death, Hippocratic oath or nah. “Sure.”

“Tuck.” Dunn’s oh-so-reasonable tone that suggested I was the one acting like a toddler here. He made a grab for my wrist, and I dodged it.

“I’m going home.”

“You can’t!” he insisted, hurrying after me. “Not yet! With me sitting down to be an interpreter for you, you and Gordon could…”

“Could what? Eat our way through the restaurant’s entire popper supply? Slather ourselves with mayo and wrassle? No, thank you.”

“’Course not,” Dunn said, following me out to the sidewalk. “You hate mayo, and you’re a terrible wrestler.”

With the sun down, there was a distinct wintery chill in the air, like spring would never come.

I felt this on a deep, cellular level.

Without sparing my “best best friend” a look, I turned left and marched down the street toward home with my cake.

Dunn sighed loud enough for me to hear from two doors down. “Don’t forget too many cookies before bed give you a sugar hangover, babe,” he called. “Drink water! Make good choices! I promise I’ll do better with the next guy!”

The next guy?

I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and whirled to face him. Panicked, horrified laughter shook my chest.

“No. Nope. Nooo. Nuh uh. EN-to-the-OH. Nein. Nyet. I am being very, absolutely serious, right now, so please, please hear me when I tell you, Dunn: you have set me up on eleven terrible dates, and that is plenty. You will never set me up on another date as long as I live. Do you understand that? Please tell me that you understand. You and me, no more dates.”

Dunn rocked back on his heels. He rubbed his jaw, which had looked smooth in the Tavern, but was usually covered with fine blond bristles this late in the day and—shit, I did not need to remind myself that I knew things like that. He licked his lips and nodded thoughtfully.

“You’re angry.”

Give the man a prize. “Yes, I am. You wasted everyone’s time. Gordon and I had nothing in common.”

He winced. “I get it. But in my defense, his mom made him sound like a total catch, and she never mentioned the mayonnaise thing, because I promise I knew better— sorry, sorry!” He held up his hands like he wondered if I might attack him. “I can see that I shouldn’t have taken her word for it,” he insisted. “My bad.”

I nodded once, firmly. “So that’s the end of that.”

“It is.” Dunn nodded again and drew an X over his heart. “I promise.”

I took a deep, calming breath and nodded again. “Thank—”

“I’ll vet every dude myself from now on. Extensively. And I’ll ask about mayonnaise and ex-boyfriends.”

I clenched my free hand into a fist and clutched my cake with the other. “Sweet baby Jesus, your continued existence on this planet is the greatest proof of a merciful God I have ever encountered, Dunn Johnson.”

“Aw.” His mouth quirked up, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him. “Thanks, boo. Back atcha.”

I sighed. Even now, even now when I most desperately wanted and needed to, it was impossible for me to stay mad at the man. I shook my head—at him, at myself, at the whole impossible situation.