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GRACIE
“Luke.” His sly grin lets me know he truly doesn’t mind my teasing about his name.
“At your service.”
“Good to know. Never know when I’ll need a cover story.” Even laughing, I hope it doesn’t come to that, but I enjoy knowing he can be relied on to bail me out if I need a last-minute stand-in boyfriend. The thought of him being a real one makes me nervous. I’ve dated in the last few months, since the whole cheating boyfriend fiasco, but it was with guys who I knew wouldn’t go anywhere. At least that’s what I told myself and never saw any of them past the third date. But with Tucker, I could see wanting more than three, for sure, and that sends my nerves into overdrive. And so does his next question. “Where’s Granny?”
I glance over and point to a table about five booths down. “Over there. With my mom.”
He doesn’t seem bothered or hesitant at the info that he has three generations to reckon with, but instead moves his heartwarming smile to me.
“I’m guessing Granny is in the pink jumpsuit and that’s your mother beside her.”
“Yep. What gave it away?” I laugh, pointing to my red hair that is the same shade of red as my mother’s.
He has zero reluctance when he asks, “I saw a coffee booth back there,”—he points over his shoulder before tucking his hand in his pocket—“would you ladies like to grab some with me?”
“All of us?” I ask like he’s lost his mind. Yeah, I can be a handful, literally and figuratively, but the three of us together are a force to reckon with. Just ask my dad, he’ll tell you, though he’d also tell you he wouldn’t change a thing about any of us.
“Yes. The whole crew. Or would you prefer to shop? I can use a few items…” He looks at a few tables around us. “Oh, definitely need some decorations. My place is majorly lacking in the décor department.”
“That we can help you with, then maybe take a break for coffee afterwards,” I suggest.
His pleased expression melts my damn sense of self-preservation as he adds, “Good deal.” Swiftly, he’s turned and is walking towards my mom and Granny, and I’m hightailing it so I can step beside him.
Both of them spot us at the same time, smiles breaking out across their faces as they give our newest arrival a once-over.
“Mom, Granny, this is—” I realize I’d have some explaining to do upon introducing him at the wedding. Why am I even considering that?
And he doesn’t help when he extends his hand and adds, “Tucker, but my friends call me Luke on occasion.”
Granny extends her hand and Mom does the same, formally introducing themselves.
“I didn’t realize you were joining us.” Granny adds, a shit-eating grin on her face. She’s totally reading more into this than she should. It’s a flea market. Open to the public and any random strangers I befriend at the grocery store.
“He happened to be here to get some furnishings for his place.” I lie to her and myself because I don’t knowwhyhe’s here.
“That’s great!” Mom then proceeds to ask Tucker questions I don’t even know the answers to because I don’t know anything about him. But now, thanks to Mom, I know he’s just moved back because he wanted to be closer to family in the surrounding area of our small Texas town.
“That’s wonderful,” Mom replies, but I have a feeling that would’ve been her answer regardless of Tucker’s response. She looks downright smitten with the notion that Tucker and I are a couple, and she confirms it as she says, “We’ll let you two get to shopping. Granny and I are headed to the other side of the market to shop for some snacks. We’ll catch up with you two later.” Mom and Granny practically giggle as they walk off, glancing between the two of us.
“Yeah. So. That wasn’t awkward.”
“It wasn’t for me. Your mom and Granny are delightful.”
“Sure. Just wait until you tick one of them off. No filter. At all.”
“Perfect. I like to know exactly where I stand with someone.”
Okay. Maybe I’m going to filter things for now because I don’t know where I stand much less where we stand. Sarcastic diversion time. “There. We should stand over there and pick out some décor.”
“Let’s go.” He tenderly clasps my hand in his as we walk over to the booth. I grab the first thing I spot with both hands because his felt too natural joined with mine. Freakin’ A. I didn’t even get this nervous for my first time with Dax, which turned out to be less than thrilling, so no loss there. But all Tucker is doing is holding my hand.Get ahold of yourself, Gracie.
“So, what’s your favorite color?” He holds up one red and one yellow mug. He wants to know about me. That does not make me want to chill, I’m feeling the need to escape him.
“The real question is what your favorite color is. It’s your place.”
“True. But I want to hear your pick.” He waits, and I know he’s not gonna let me off the hook.
