by Cindi Madsen
“We explained the rules over and over”—Easton reached across the table to grab the potato chips—“and that dude still didn’t know whether to check his ass or scratch his watch.”
Whenever Tucker came home, he noticed the extra twang in his friends’ voices—not to mention the more colorful sayings—and he knew by the end of the night, he’d pick it right back up, his own accent thicker for a few days before the city smoothed it out a bit.
“All right, let’s see what you got,” Tucker said, and he and Addie placed their cards on the table at the same time.
Then she proceeded to take the last of his chips.
They played until everyone was sober again and Addie had pretty much cleaned them out. One by one they left, save the two of them.
“Are you staying here at the houseboat tonight?” she asked as she gathered her keys off the table outside. “Because you know that my door is always open, and I even have a bed that doesn’t sway.”
That was Addie’s way of offering him a place to crash without making him feel homeless. His parents had divorced his junior year of high school, which was extra fun in a small town where everyone gossiped about it. It became even more fun when Mom moved in with a congressman who owned a country estate all of two months later. Dad had always pushed him to get out of the small town and find a way to make some real money, but once the bank foreclosed on their house, he pushed Tucker even harder to go into a high-paying field. Losing his childhood home had left him feeling completely uprooted, something he’d only ever confessed to Addie. It didn’t help that Dad sold nearly everything so he could move towns, and Tucker had to beg him to hold off selling the houseboat.
Halfway through law school, Dad claimed he needed money too badly to wait any longer, so Tucker drove to Uncertainty, took out a loan against the small plot of land his grandfather had left him, and bought the houseboat himself. He’d nearly paid it off, although he’d already seen repairs that would need to be made whenever he found spare time—so probably about three years from now. “I like it out here on the lake, and I don’t mind if my bed rocks a little.”
“Dirty,” she teased, and he laughed. Although now he was thinking about how long it’d been. Work was getting in the way of every single aspect of his social life. If he loved his job, it would be one thing, but he was giving up a lot for a future of making a lot of money—right now he still had plenty of bills and student loans to worry about.
A smile curved Addie’s lips as she ran her hand over the deck railing. “I love this mini-house and all our memories here.”
“Yeah, those were definitely the good ol’ days.” He folded his forearms on the railing and looked out over the water. It’d been a long time since he’d been able to kick back and joke with people who understood him. A long time since he’d felt so relaxed. And while being with the whole gang was a blast, Addie had always been his go-to when he needed advice or wanted to get more real. Certain things couldn’t be communicated over the phone, and no matter how hard they’d tried to keep in touch via the various forms of technology, it just wasn’t the same, and now he was out of practice. So he stuck to simple. “Tonight was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
“Me, too. Like I said, poker’s not the same without you. Same with football games, whether we’re both cheering for Auburn on Saturdays, or if you’re spending Sundays being an annoying ass who talks trash about my team.” She set her jaw. “Even you have to admit that the Falcons had a good season last year.”
“I admit nothing.”
“Stubborn,” she muttered. As if she wasn’t equally as stubborn. She sighed and lightly punched his arm. “Night, Crawford.”
He returned the gesture. “Night, Murph.”
She turned to go, but then abruptly spun around and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I understand that your job is demanding, but don’t be a stranger.”
He squeezed her back, noticing that her hair smelled fruity, like maybe strawberry or raspberry, or something berry, anyway.
“At least with Shep getting married you’ve got another excuse to come down and spend more than a weekend,” she said, and something deep in his gut tugged.
“Yeah, it’s good to have an excuse.” What he wanted was an excuse not to go back to his cold, generic apartment and mind-numbing job. Back to his serious life where he’d have to feel the loneliness he was doing his best to pretend didn’t exist.
What he wanted more than anything was to return to his friends and the town he loved, and he wasn’t sure how he could possibly go back and be satisfied with his old life after tonight showed him everything that was missing from it.
…
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Acknowledgments
This book all started with a conversation I had with Christy Walters, one of my very best girlfriends about the unrealistic ideas we had about how relationships would be. I uttered the phrase, “Yeah, Cinderella really screwed us over,” and right then, I knew I needed to write a book about all the things fairy tales forgot to teach us, while somehow pulling off a romance. Thanks to my Aunt Malinda, who was one of the first people to read it and told me how much she loved it. She was also one of my very first writing cheerleaders, and I’ve always been grateful for that—it totally kept me going. Ariane Love, thanks for reading an early draft as well. I could go all mushy, mushy about missing you and Christy, but I’ll refrain and just say thanks for being awesome girlfriends. Also to my friend, Amanda Price (I almost typed Crowther. Lol), whose character traits tend to show up in all of the girlfriends I write in my books. Thanks for saying all the right things as I was going through the editing process—I’m glad to have found another girl so much like me.
I wouldn’t be where I was today if Stacy Abrams hadn’t taken a chance on me. Thanks to her and Alycia Tornetta’s mad editing skills, my books come out all shiny, too. Thanks for all the behind the scenes work you two do for me as well. Hugs! Entangled Publishing has been so supportive, from the authors to editors to publicists and everyone in between. I’d especially like to thank publicist ninja Heather Riccio, along with Anjana and Danielle for all of their work. Thanks to my writer friends Rachel Harris, Lisa Burstein, Brandy Vallance, and Anne Eliot for always being there and constantly making me laugh.
To my own Prince Charming—hehe, had to put that in there, babe—thanks for helping me come up with more fairy-tale tie-ins as I wrote, answering one hundred billion questions, and for reading the first draft what seems like forever ago, when I still wasn’t sure I’d ever have a book published. Thanks for supporting me through my entire writing career, even before it was actually a career. Oh, and for indulging me in my shoe-collecting habit. To my daughters and son, you guys make me laugh, keep me going, and I’m amazed every day that I have such awesome kids. A lot of the farm/small-town stuff was inspired by the town I grew up in and not-so-normal conversations around the dinner table. I’ll always be a farm girl at heart, even when I’m walking around in my stilettos. Mom and Dad, thanks for everything, from the way you raised me, to checking how the book stuff’s going, to letting me get away with inappropriate jokes (See, it’s in print, so it’s permanent now). I could say a hundred nice things about my brothers and sisters, but I’ll just say I love you all, and thanks for the support. Shout-out to my brother, Greg, who let me steal his phrases and stories for Drew.
Since this is getting long and I’m always scared of forgetting someone, I’ll just say thanks to all the wonderful blogger and cool bookish people I’ve met the past few years (some, only virtually). You make writing more fun, and have been a huge help getting the word out about my books. To my girls in the TZWNDU book club, thanks for helping me out when I need feedback, and for just being awesome.
And lastly, thanks to my readers! You’re the best! May you all find the perfect pair of glass slippers, or whatever shoes happen to be your preferred footwear.
About the Author
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p; Cindi Madsen is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance and young adult novels. She sits at her computer every chance she gets, plotting, revising, and falling in love with her characters. Sometimes it makes her a crazy person. Without it, she’d be even crazier. She has way too many shoes, but can always find a reason to buy a pretty new pair, especially if they’re sparkly, colorful, or super tall. She loves music and dancing and wishes summer lasted all year long. She lives in Colorado (where summer is most definitely not all year long) with her husband and three children.
You can visit Cindi at: www.cindimadsen.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter to get all the up-to-date information on her books.
Follow her on Twitter @cindimadsen.
Also by Cindi Madsen…
12 Steps to Mr. Right
Just Jilted
Nailed It
The Wedding Deal
Just One of the Groomsmen
Getting Lucky Number Seven
Anatomy of a Player
Crazy Pucking Love
Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny
Until You’re Mine
Until We’re More
Falling for Her Fiance
Act Like You Love Me
Resisting the Hero
An Officer and a Rebel
Second Chance Ranch
Crazy for the Competition
The Bad Boy’s Baby
Operation Prom Date
All the Broken Pieces
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