Just One of the Groomsmen

by Cindi Madsen

  “Oh, I know.” Tucker grabbed the bar over the window. “Your mom’s quite the screamer.”

  Ford knocked into her as he slugged Tucker’s shoulder, and Tucker laughed and backhanded him while she shielded herself from friendly fire.

  “And the award for maturity goes to Crawford and his your mom jokes,” she said, rolling her eyes, although she found comfort in the automatic back and forth, untouched by time apart.

  As they turned down Main Street, still exchanging verbal jabs, an overwhelming sense of nostalgia hit her.

  Add Shep and Easton crammed in the back or driving behind them in Shep’s truck, and it was high school all over again.

  The guys had liked her for her back then, and they liked her for her now.

  So while she was a pinch worried that Lexi would take one glimpse of her tonight and regret her decision to let her be a groomsman, she could only imagine the odd looks she’d get from Ford and Tucker if she requested a fifteen-minute stop at her house to freshen up.

  Besides, the ship to make a good impression on Lexi had sailed already.

  …

  The Old Firehouse was exactly what it sounded like—a bar built from the old redbrick firehouse. There was a shiny pole that no one ever slid down, since they’d sealed off second floor access, but drunk chicks occasionally “jokingly” danced on, and they had cold beer and amazing wings and all things fried and artery destroying.

  They also had two flat-screen TVs, which meant the game was visible from about everywhere, unless you arrived super late and got stuck in the far corner. With a cop and a firefighter in their crew, people were extra accommodating, so that hadn’t happened in ages.

  Being on the up and up of the legal side these days had its benefits.

  Addie was three beers in when Lexi sidled up to her. There was a wild gleam in her eye that automatically set her nerves on edge.

  “This is a list for how to plan a wedding in six months.” Lexi slid it toward her.

  Addie glanced at the lengthy checklist, with its wedding bells decoration and hot pink swirly print. “It’s nice.”

  “We’re only two months out, and I still have four months of stuff to do. When we first became engaged, I mentioned hiring a wedding planner, and Will’s mother acted like I’d demanded a throne of diamonds. ‘Oh, honey,’ she says to me, ‘here we don’t throw money away on weddin’ planners. We save that so we don’t start our new lives in a heap of debt, which also makes the marriages run more smoothly.’”

  Honestly, it was a damn good impression of Shep’s mother. Super sweet, albeit slightly judgmental, and 100 percent her way or the highway.

  “Then she rattled off names in a whir. So and so always does the cakes, and another person caters, and apparently someone’s son recently became a DJ, and of course we’d hire him, wouldn’t we?”

  “Josie’s,” Addie said. “And he’s not bad. You just need to be super detailed with the playlist or he’ll go rogue, and suddenly you’ve got ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ playing at the nursing home’s summer bash, and half the attendees are having heart attacks—to be fair, only one of them was a literal heart attack, and it was mild and most likely not the music’s fault. Allegedly.”

  “Oh, jeez.” Lexi tapped her pen to her list. “She kept on going and going, Energizer-Bunny-style, and I just nodded, because she already thinks I’m too high maintenance. But I didn’t write anything down and I’m scared to ask her again, and I’m starting to freak out.”

  Addie squinted at the list as if that’d help her decipher the madness.

  Then the Falcons scored, and she jumped up to high-five the guys over the table—save Tucker, since he was cheering for the other team out of stubbornness.

  He got a “Suck it, Crawford!” She grinned at Shep. “I told you our new tight end was hitting his stride.”

  “It’s about time,” Shep said, reaching for another wing.

  “I need help.” Lexi’s voice sounded small in the noisy bar.

  Addie turned, trying to piece her words together with what they’d been talking about before the touchdown.

  Then it hit her. Surely she didn’t mean…?

  The blonde blinked big, flawlessly lined eyes that perfectly complemented the vintage floral dress she’d worn. She walked in five-inch heels like they were sneakers and somehow never managed to get wing sauce all over her fingers and face, whereas Addie’s lips were burning from the fiery sauce, and she was sure her fingers would be orange for days.

  This was why she knew she’d never truly impress Lexi, no matter how hard she tried.

  “I need help planning this wedding,” Lexi repeated.

  “Oh, you’ve come to the wrong girl.” As much as she liked Lexi, mostly because she clearly adored Shep and had been more accepting than most of her friends’ girlfriends, Addie held no pretenses that she could be the wedding-planning friend a bride needed. Wasn’t that what a maid of honor was for?

  Before she could ask, Lexi sighed and hung her head. “I know.”

  Well, that was…comforting?

  She jerked up her chin, eyes wide as if she’d realized how that came out. “I mean, I know it’s not your thing. But Will loves this town, and I’ve come to love it and the people, too, enough to make it my future home. I don’t want to offend someone by accidentally not including them, and while I’ve met most everyone, there are things I’m still unfamiliar with, and there’s so much to do. And my friends and family live forty minutes away and are so busy with their lives. I’m not saying you’re not busy, I’m just saying you’re…”

  “Here,” Addie filled in.

  She doubted Lexi would be asking any of the other groomsmen, and as she took them in, their fingers also covered in orange wing sauce, eyes glued to the TV, she wondered how she’d managed to be enough of a guy that no one considered her a girl, but not enough of one to get out of wedding planning.

  The fact that Lexi was so nice, combined with rocking that impression of Mrs. Shepherd and the Energizer-Bunny joke, made it impossible to flat-out say no.

  “Look, I can try to help and point you to the right people to talk to, but again, this is way out of my comfort zone.”

  “It’s not so bad. It’s mostly just legwork.”

  Addie glanced up and met Shep’s gaze. He mouthed “thank you” and she wasn’t sure if he was in on it or simply thanking her for chatting with Lexi and trying to make her feel accepted.

  She thought about the day she’d wrecked Dad’s new four-wheeler into a fence post. Shep had snuck it into his father’s shop and quickly fixed the dent so that no one besides the five of them would ever know.

  She’d argue that Shep initiated the race that’d made her take the corner that fast, but she’d been at the wheel, unable to back down from a challenge as usual. It accounted for about 80 percent of why she’d landed herself in trouble. The guys sure used it to their advantage, just like she’d used the fact that Ford couldn’t resist a bet to hers.

  Speaking of… “Hey, McGuire? Care to make a wager on the outcome?”

  “You already owe me for last week’s game,” Ford said.

  Yeah, yeah. She’d called one game wrong in a long string of getting it mostly right.

  The two of them had always had a competitive thing, and while they’d both been studying anatomy for their respective careers, they’d had a bet going about who could get a better grade. It’d made them work harder, and when they both earned A’s, they’d celebrated. “Double or nothing?”

  They negotiated the terms and she ordered another beer. Then she turned to Lexi, who still had stress hanging heavy in her features. “All right, I’ll help. What do you need me to do?”

  …

  Tucker finished explaining to Easton, Shep, and Ford about how he’d quit his job. He told them he wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do yet, but
he was done with city life, so the plan was to stay in Uncertainty.

  “We could always use someone with a firm grasp of the law at the station,” Easton said. “I know most of the guys who run the courthouse in Auburn, too. Just say the word and I’ll poke around and see if I can’t get you a job.”

  “You could work at the school,” Shep said. “They need people. I’m on the school board, for hell’s sake.”

  Tucker laughed. If you’d told him that one of the guys who’d frequently landed him in detention would be on the school board one day, he never would’ve believed it.

  He glanced at Ford. For all his joking and lighthearted demeanor, when shit went bad, you wanted him by your side.

  In addition to responding to medical emergency calls and fires, he trained the K-9 units. Not only for the local search and rescue team, who spent a lot of time rescuing hikers and hunters and occasionally went down south when hurricanes hit, but also most of Alabama’s search and rescue teams. Which was pretty different from his original goal of becoming a professional stuntman in the movies.

  All the same risks and then some, way less glory.

  At one point, Tucker thought all it would take to be happy was to make a ton of money. Ever since he could remember, way before the divorce, his parents had constantly fought about money. Which was why he’d sworn he wouldn’t settle down until he’d saved enough for a down payment on a house and had a decent chunk of change in a 401K.

  He wanted something to live on for at least a year if life threw him a curve ball he couldn’t hit.

  But he hadn’t saved nearly that amount, and now he’d undone what little progress he’d made on his financial goals.

  His worries tightened his chest, along with the pressure to choose the right career and quickly.

  One idea wouldn’t leave him alone, and he figured it’d only take a few weeks to get it out of his system, even if it didn’t end up being a solid lead. “I appreciate it, boys, but I’ve got somethin’ else in the works. I just wanna see if it’s gonna shake out before I go announcin’ it to everyone.”

  He needed to figure out if it could be profitable before the town jumped in and told him why it wouldn’t be and what he should be doing with his life instead.

  “Dude, we got your back,” Easton said. “Whatever you need, let us know.”

  The pressure in his chest eased a fraction.

  “Tucker Crawford?” Someone hugged him over the back of the seat before he could crane his neck and get a good look at her.

  Delilah, one of their former classmates and his girlfriend for most of senior year.

  The irritation twisting Addie’s features led him to believe her and Delilah’s relationship was about the same as it had been back then.

  Shortly before graduation, Delilah demanded he choose, her or Addie. It’d been a no-brainer.

  While she’d pitched a giant hissy and screeched he was the worst during their dramatic hallway breakup, the kiss she dropped on his cheek now indicated he’d been forgiven.

  Delilah’s gaze flicked across the table. “Oh, hey, Addison. I admire how you always just wear whatever. It must be so nice not to worry about makeup, too. I’m not sure I could do that—but you do know that you have grass in your hair, right?”

  Tucker opened his mouth to happily take the blame, but Lexi beat him to the punch. “You know, sometimes I think it’s sad that no matter how much makeup people put on, it doesn’t make their soul any prettier. Then again, it’s always nice to spot those people right away.”

  Delilah reared back and did that sassy head-wobble thing. “Who the hell are you?”

  “She’s with me,” Shep said, aiming a wink at Lexi. “She’s my fiancée.”

  Delilah heaved a sigh. “Looks like this group hasn’t changed a bit.”

  “That’s what makes it so great,” Addie said. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re watching the game, and your overly coiffed hair’s getting in the way.”

  Tucker wanted to catch Addie’s eye and make sure she was as okay as she put on—she’d always brushed off the slams on her lack of “girliness,” but sometimes he thought they got to her the tiniest bit.

  She quickly returned her attention to the paper in front of her and Lexi, though, and they continued whatever they’d been discussing before the interruption.

  He’d already liked Shep’s fiancée, but that exchange solidified it.

  She was one of them now.

  As he looked around the table, Tucker realized how much he needed these guys. This here, being back with his friends—his family, really—was worth the stress over quitting his job and heading toward the unknown.

  So when Addie jumped up to rub her team winning in his face, going so far as to celebrate with a booty shake, he ignored the hint of heat in his veins.

  First her legs, now her ass. But seriously, had it always been that curvy?

  Today on the field, he’d been briefly introduced to her other curves, too. She definitely wasn’t on the scrawny side anymore.

  Shut it down, Crawford.

  If he didn’t control his stray thoughts where Addie was concerned, it’d complicate things. She’d said the great thing about them was their group hadn’t changed, and he agreed. He’d never risk screwing that up.

  Chapter Six

  Tucker threw open the doors to the old shed, coughing and waving at the cloud of dust. He used to spend hours out here with his grandpa, who’d left the place and its contents to him in his will, along with the untamed two and a half acres of land it sat on.

  Tucker worried Dad would be upset he hadn’t inherited it, but Dad had told him there was nothing but junk in the shed anyway.

  For years, Tucker hadn’t thought much about the summers he’d spent working with his hands. But late one night, about two months back, he’d been gazing out over the city and missing home. He’d thought about those teenage years in this shed, doing the type of tiring labor that left you pleasantly exhausted by the end of the night.

  Grandpa had built and restored boats as a side hobby that occasionally made money, and the one left in the shed was one he’d bought for himself, the idea that he and Tucker would fix it up that last summer before he left for college.

  Only he’d passed away before they’d gotten the chance.

  Right then, Tucker had resolved to fix up the dilapidated boat.

  He hadn’t realized how many years it would take him to get to it, and he’d definitely never thought of doing it as a sort of test run business idea.

  He wasn’t sure if it was a plausible career. But the other morning, as he’d been watching all the types of ships gliding over the glittering surface of Lake Jocassee, a plan had formulated.

  There were tons of old boats in need of repair, and he had the skill set and tools. Anyway, he hoped he still did.

  He wished Grandpa were around to give him advice. To tell him when he hadn’t shaved down the wood enough or to stand across from him and admire his handiwork, even as Tucker wondered why he didn’t jump in so they could get done sooner. Why he made him redo sections he’d deemed “good enough.”

  Now he appreciated that his grandfather had put in the time to teach him to do it himself, and to do it well.

  Tucker surveyed the tools, noted which ones needed upgrading and which boat repairs to start with, and made a quick run into town. He asked Easton if he could borrow his truck, which was tricked out for fun, mud-bogging reasons, as well as the fact that he worked on the search and rescue team with Ford when needed. His friend let him borrow it, no questions asked, and as he drove the load of lumber, tools, and other supplies back down the bumpy road, he knew he’d made the right choice.

  As nice as his Prius had been in the city, it was no match for these dirt back roads with their deep ruts and grooves. Not like he could’ve loaded the lumber into his car’s trunk anyway.<
br />
  I’m definitely gonna need to upgrade to a truck.

  Which of course cost money, and his heart beat faster as he stressed over how much start-up cash a new business required.

  Shoving that away to be worried over later, he unloaded the wood and pulled out the saw. Then he got to work, his thoughts on the day he’d be able to take the refurbished boat out on the lake.

  He knew who he wanted to be in the boat with him for that first ride, too.

  As friends, of course.

  Then he could tell Addie his plan, and she’d give it to him straight and hopefully help him figure out how to do it. Since her fear of alligators was one of the few semigirly things about her, persuading her to go out on the water with him would be the hardest part.

  Despite his spouted statistics and the many reassurances about the boat’s safety features, it took years to convince her how fun the lake could be. He’d been this close to getting her to admit that fishing wasn’t “totally boring” like she’d always claimed—mostly because she refused to admit to her fear of alligators—when he’d screwed it up.

  His seventeen-year-old brain clearly hadn’t been firing on all cylinders when he’d decided it would be funny to show her Lake Placid, an older horror movie about a giant gator.

  After that, it took bribery and just about carrying her on board kicking and screaming to get her to go way out to the center of the lake.

  His brain snagged on the kicking and screaming image too long.

  How fun it’d be to throw her over his shoulder and—and then put her down nicely in the boat. Yeah, that was it. Friends giving each other a hard time.

  Just friends.

  …

  Tucker cut across the town square, glancing around for the familiar brown ponytail.

  He’d put in a solid three days on the boat, and as he’d been forcing his stiff muscles to power through this afternoon, it felt like his arms were a hair from giving out. Now they were in the limp noodle range.

  Addie had teased him about being out of shape after sitting behind a desk for so long, and while his gym sessions had kept him fit, he was feeling the burn.