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“The kids will love that,” Dad says with a smile. “And I might take a dip or two myself.”
“This is it,” I say again. “How much does Mr. Truman want again?”
Chuck rattles off a number that has Dad’s eyes widening, but I just shake my head. “Take a hundred K off that and make the offer. He’s priced it way too high. I’ll pay cash.”
“I’ll write up the offer today, and keep you posted.”
“Thanks, Chuck.”
“My pleasure.”
“We’ll stay for just a few moments, if you don’t mind.”
“Help yourselves,” Chuck says with a smile. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
He drives away, and Dad and I smile at each other. “Looks like you just bought yourself three hundred acres, sugar.”
“If old man Truman takes my offer.”
“He will.” Dad takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I have a good feeling about it.”
“Would you like a waterfront house?” I ask him.
“Nah, I don’t like gators either. Let’s stick to the meadow.”
“Deal.”
“When are you going to tell Tucker?”
“I already told you, I’m not telling him anything. I’m showing him.”
Dad shakes his head and walks to the car. “Put that poor boy out of his misery.”
“I’m working on it. But you gotta admit, this is a pretty great plan.”
“It’s a wonderful plan. Tucker’s a lucky guy.”
“I’ll be the lucky one, just as soon as I get him back.”
21
~ Tucker ~
I tip my head back and cringe as the whiskey burns a path down my throat.
“One more,” I say, putting the shot glass on the bar.
Scooter takes the shot glass and eyes me warily. “You sure?”
“Scooter, that was my first one.”
“But you usually don’t do shots. I’m just looking out for you.”
“I don’t need you to look out for me, I need you to pour me another shot.”
He lifts a brow and looks at Dean but does as I ask.
“I take it you haven’t talked to Scarlett,” Dean says.
“Not since she left me.” And now, I’m a miserable fuck. I never thought I’d be the type of man to pine over a woman, but that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Even Chloe doesn’t want to be around me.
Scooter slides the full shot glass to me, and I toss it back. I hand him the glass and lean my elbows on the bar.
“I contacted the Nashville P.D.”
It wasn’t an easy decision to make, but it was the right one because I can’t live without Scarlett. She’s it for me, and if she isn’t willing to bend, then I have to be.
Scooter’s jaw drops open.
Dean scowls. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“Because I love her.”
“So, you’re just going to leave? What about me, and Mom and Dad, and Chloe’s friends, and—?”
“And me,” Scooter inserts.
“What does Chloe think about this?” Dean asks, flustered at the bomb I just dropped.
“She doesn’t know. I didn’t want to say anything until I heard back from them.”
“Have you heard back from them?”
I look at Dean and nod. “I’m scheduled for a phone interview next week. If that goes well, I’ll make a trip out there for a face-to-face interview.”
“Fuck.” Dean pushes his hands into his hair.
“For the record, I think you’re doing the right thing.”
“Thank you, Scooter.”
He nods. “Have you told Scarlett?”
“Not yet. I didn’t want to get her hopes up. I might not get the job.”
“You’ll get the job,” Dean says with an air of confidence. “You’re a damn fine police officer.”
“Don’t you think you should run this by Scarlett first? What if you take the job and move there, and then she doesn’t take you back?”
Damn. I never even considered that option. “I’ll have to think it over. I didn’t say my plan was foolproof.”
“What’s up, gentlemen?” Chuck says, sliding onto a barstool on the other side of Dean. He was four years older than us in school and is a regular here at Scooter’s.
“How are ya, Chuck?” Dean says, shaking his hand.
“I’m great.” He smiles brightly and points at Scooter. “I’ll have a Bud Light, and one for these fine men, too.”
“Thanks,” Dean says.
“What’s the occasion,” I ask as Scooter slides a beer to each of us.
“I just closed a massive sale.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dean looks from Chuck to me and back to Chuck. “What sold?”
I snap my fingers. “Was it that old building on twenty-third? I hope whoever bought it, tears it down. That thing is an eyesore.”
Chuck shakes his head. “Nope. I just sold the old Truman place.”
“Bill Truman?” Dean clarifies.
“The one and only.”
I take a drink of my beer. “That place has been for sale for years.”
“Trust me, I know. No one wanted to buy it because he was asking way too much.”
“It’s a damn fine piece of property,” Dean says.
“It sure is, and all it took was the right buyer with deep enough pockets.”
“Who in this town, other than Truman himself, can afford to pay that kind of money?” I ask.
