Tucker

by Emily March

  “A cross-promotion?” Color flooded back into her cheeks, and the pitch of her voice rose as she repeated, “A cross-promotion?”

  Innocently, he asked, “What? You don’t think that’s a good idea?”

  “I … I…” She held her head in her hands and accused, “You stole our building!”

  “Stole?” Now, that didn’t sit well. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a thief. He arched a brow, looked pointedly at his new purchase, then back at her. “Sweetcheeks, Enchanted Canyon Enterprises paid a pretty penny for this place.”

  “Sweetcheeks? Did you just call me sweetcheeks?”

  Tucker wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke pouring from her ears. Okay, so that word had been politically incorrect, but Gillian brought out the—what was that term they use these days? Masculine something. No, toxic masculinity. That’s it. Gillian Thacker sent Tucker’s testosterone off the charts. And that walk …

  “Call ’em as I see ’em,” he murmured, before raising his tone and asking, “What am I missing here? Why are your panties in such a twist over the fact that we are neighbors?”

  “Do not talk about my panties, you misogynistic jerk!”

  “I am not misogynistic. I happen to love and respect women. I might be a little behind the times when it comes to my metaphors, but you can deal with it. And tell me why you’re so upset that we’re opening our school in the mercantile building.”

  “Because.” She closed her eyes and gave her head a shake. In that instant, the temper in her tone drained away, leaving only woebegone in the words she spoke next. “Because the expansion is our plan. It’s our big dream.”

  Tucker felt a shimmer of unease. Gillian was a partner with her mother in the wedding gown shop. Barbara Thacker and her sister, Cathy, had spent a weekend at the Fallen Angel Inn not long ago, and he’d guided them on a hike through the canyon. Tucker liked Gillian’s mother very much. He would hate it if he’d inadvertently trampled on her big dream by going along with Boone’s big idea.

  Gillian’s next words doused the guilt flickering to life inside him. “We talked about it on New Year’s Eve. Blissful Events is the wedding and event planning business he and I are starting.”

  Oh, yeah. The one that’s all your baby.

  “The mercantile building is the perfect location for it. We’re just waiting until after the wedding to make an offer. The building has been for sale forever. Literally years. I never dreamed someone else would buy it out from under our feet.” She paused and shook her head. “The listing agent knew our plans. He plays golf with Jeremy every Saturday morning. Why didn’t he tell us you were interested? We would have made a counteroffer.”

  Since this big dream wasn’t Gillian’s and Barbara’s, but hers and Banker Boy’s, Tucker had to wonder. All the talking Jeremy had done during their meeting this morning, one would think he would have mentioned the death of his big dream. He hadn’t.

  Jeremy had known about the sale ahead of time too. The McBrides hadn’t financed the purchase through his bank, but the bank had handled paperwork for the seller. So why keep the news from his beloved fiancée? Not your circus, not your monkey, McBride.

  Tucker shrugged. “Well, the sale has closed. That ship has sailed. I guess all is fair in love and real estate.”

  She shot him an annoyed look. “Bad metaphorical speaking.”

  He smiled and took another lick of his ice cream cone and waited, watching her, as she spent close to a minute in contemplative thought before nodding briskly. “You’re right. We made a mistake by waiting to secure the property once we decided on it. The challenge now is to make the best of the current situation. I’m prepared to discuss lease arrangements immediately. Would you care to join me for lunch?”

  Having worked his way down to the ice cream cone, Tucker took a bite. The woman didn’t waste any time, did she? Knock her down, she gets right back up. Another check of one of his boxes. He’d always thought perseverance was sexy.

  “Thanks for the invitation, Gillian, but I’ve already had my lunch. Taco Tuesday, you know.” He hefted his cone. “This is dessert.”

  “That’s fine.” She glanced toward Marktplatz. “My lunch can wait. I’m honestly not that hungry. Why don’t we talk in the building? I’ll show you what we plan to do with the space.”

  “I’m happy to have your company, Gillian, but I think you’ve misunderstood. We’re not seeking tenants. It’s going to be my storefront.”

  “But—”

  “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  He pulled his keys from his pocket as he led her toward the store. He unlocked the door, opened it, then stepped back so that she could precede him. Gillian walked into the room still piled high with boxes and made a slow circle, taking it all in. She turned a stricken gaze toward him. “You’ve put up shelving already.”

  “Apparently the former owner recently did some sprucing up, painted the walls, refinished the floors, and replaced all the bathroom fixtures.”

  “In October. Mrs. Ayers told me to consider it my wedding gift. She died right before Thanksgiving. Doesn’t it take time for an inheritance to get settled? How could Johnny sell the building so fast?” Hope entered her eyes. “Maybe the sale wasn’t legal. You might have caught a break if that’s the case, Tucker. You’ll do better at the other end of Main Street. This isn’t a good location for foot traffic. It’s the slow end of the street. Tourists don’t come down this far except on the weekends when Marktplatz is open.”

  Tucker didn’t believe there was anything wrong with the paperwork. “What is it you wanted to do with this space?”

  “I plan to create a wedding district, encompassing the entire U around the courtyard. A bakery. Photography studio. Invitation design and paper shop. A jeweler. Lingerie store. I plan to use the courtyard for vendor showcases. Maisy might move her flower shop once her lease is up or else open a small space that focuses only on wedding floral.”

  Tucker gazed out of the display window that faced the courtyard and focused on the Cinderella bride display in the window facing his. He could picture what she was describing. The idea made a lot of sense too.

  “So.” Gillian licked her lips and squared her shoulders. “You see, Tucker, while I appreciate your unusual expertise, Get Grubby just doesn’t fit. What has been unpacked can be repacked. I’m sure we can find you a location for your storefront much more suitable to your needs.”

  “This location is perfect for us. It’s gonna be more than a retail storefront. We plan to go beyond selling hand axes and knives. We’re turning the upstairs into a classroom.”

  “Weapons? You’re going to sell weapons?”

  Tucker rolled his eyes. “Tools and teaching. This building is a great spot for us. There’s plenty of parking. The courtyard gives us a place for some outdoor demonstrations.”

  “Outdoor demonstrations? What kind of outdoor demonstrations?”

  “What kind do you think?” he asked, exasperated by the appalled expression on her face. “I’m going to string up a dead deer and teach my students to dress it. We’ll have your dresses on your side of the courtyard and my kind of dressing on mine.”

  The woman actually went pale, and he hastened to say, “I’m kidding, Gillian. I’m talking about fire starting. It’s—”

  “You can’t start a fire in the courtyard! These buildings are all made of wood! I’m sure that’s against zoning regulations.”

  “It’s not. We checked.”

  “Well, I’ll go to the town council and have some passed.”

  “I don’t think it works that way. Look, we’re not fools. Our main purpose is to teach skills, the number one of which is safety. We’re not going to set your little shop on fire.”

  Insult flared in her eyes, and she sucked in a breath. “My little shop? My little shop!”

  “My unusual expertise,” he countered. Damn, but the woman got under his skin in more ways than one. Didn’t he deserve a little respect?

  After all,
hadn’t he played knight in shining armor and rescued her from a bad situation last fall? Hadn’t he kept his mouth shut when it became apparent that she didn’t want news of their meeting to go public? Hadn’t he stayed by her side when Jeremy deserted her at midnight on New Year’s Eve?

  Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her again, but he was only human. A male human. And she attracted him like a buck to a mineral lick.

  “What’s your price?” she asked abruptly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Every person has a price. What’s yours? I want this property. What will it take for me to get it?”

  A dozen different thoughts flashed through his mind. A dozen different suggestions hovered on his tongue. None of them were appropriate. He cleared his throat. “Gillian, I don’t think it’s—”

  “Think!” she interrupted. “That’s the word that needs to concern you before you say anything. Now, while you’re doing that, why don’t you show me what you’ve done upstairs?”

  Without waiting for his response, she headed for the staircase. Tucker started after her, only not too fast. He wasn’t stupid. Watching her climb stairs was a bigger treat than his double-dip cone, and enjoying it somewhat soothed his ruffled feathers.

  Beyond placing the furniture for his office, they’d done little more than haul a handful of boxes upstairs since the tables ordered for the classroom had yet to arrive. Gillian went straight to the spacious corner room that would serve as Tucker’s office. “I love the light in here,” she murmured when he joined her. “Four windows. East and north facing, so it doesn’t fight the western sun.” She glanced up. “I’d thought to raise the ceiling. The lines of the attic are fabulous.”

  Distracted by the idea, Tucker considered it. “I’m partial to high ceilings myself.”

  She pinned him with a keen-eyed gaze. “But you live in an Airstream trailer.”

  “Technically, yes. I prefer to sleep under the stars. For the most part, that’s what I’ve been doing in the canyon.”

  “It’s the middle of winter.”

  He shrugged. “You can usually find a protected spot in Enchanted Canyon. So, what exactly were you going to do with all this space?”

  The gleam of hope that entered her eyes made Tucker regret his question the moment he asked it. She launched into a detailed description beginning with his office, expanding to her plans for subdividing the classroom space, and then creating a client conference room and showroom downstairs. “It’ll be like a home builder’s design center. I’ll have the ground floor divided up into areas showcasing the basic vendor categories—photography, music, catering, linens, etcetera. For example, I’ll have sizable samples of linens displayed similarly to the way upscale furniture stores display upholstery selections. But the centerpiece of the space will be—wait.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Come downstairs. It’ll be easier to explain.”

  Once again, Gillian headed for the staircase, and Tucker followed along, closer behind her this time. She’d taken four steps down when the sound of male laughter exploded from below. Then Tucker heard good ol’ Jeremy say, “I think you’ll be very successful here, Boone. I’m delighted I could help y’all get this building.”

  Gillian missed a step and tripped. Ever the hero, Tucker reached out and broke her fall. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do anything about the shattering of her heart.

  Chapter Eight

  Gillian would recognize Jeremy’s business laugh anywhere. It was just a tiny bit too jovial, although she doubted anyone else ever picked up on it. Jeremy was good with people, charming and sincere. He sounded sincere when he said, “I think you’ll be very successful here, Boone.”

  Here. Surely, Jeremy meant in Redemption. Not in this building. Not in their building. What was he doing here?

  “I’m delighted I could help y’all get this building.”

  Her heel caught on the stair, and she teetered. Tucker grabbed her, steadied her. Feeling light-headed, Gillian made sure to hold onto the railing as she finished descending the stairs. She only vaguely noticed that Tucker didn’t let her go until she’d planted both her feet firmly on the ground floor.

  Now, all of her attention was directed at her fiancé. He wore his gray suit and the green tie she’d given him for Christmas. “Jeremy?”

  His green eyes widened when he spied her, and a brief instant of alarm flashed across his face. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m wondering the same about you. This morning you were still sick in bed with the flu.”

  He lifted his chin slightly. “I told you I intended to go into work today. I had a lunch scheduled.”

  And…? Gillian waited.

  “I’m delighted I could help y’all get this building.”

  How could he?

  Jeremy didn’t elaborate beyond his lunch statement. Not verbally, anyway. But she knew this man well. She recognized the gleam that had come into his eyes. She noticed the way he smoothed his blond hair, adjusted his cufflinks, and subtly widened his stance. He was on the defensive, and that’s when he usually got aggressive.

  Gillian’s temper began to seethe. He’d betrayed her! And now he was spoiling for a fight? Did she want to give him one?

  Maybe. Maybe so. That depends. “Jeremy, how long have you known the McBride family intended to purchase this building?”

  “I got the news sometime before Christmas.”

  Yes. Yes, Gillian did want to give Jeremy a fight. However, she wouldn’t do it in front of the McBrides. So she lifted her chin and smiled a smile that could have cut glass. “Speaking of lunch, I’d better get along on my way. I need to get home to let Peaches out for her lunchtime potty break. If you gentlemen will excuse me?”

  Without waiting for anyone’s response, Gillian sailed out of the mercantile. Her home was an eight-minute walk away. Today, she made it in six and managed to hold off her angry tears until she walked inside and was met with excited puppy yips. Releasing Peaches from her crate, Gillian sank down onto the floor with the puppy in her lap.

  Peaches was ten weeks old, a little mop of a Bichon–Shih Tzu mix with floppy brown ears and a white face and a little pink tongue that even now licked at the tears flowing freely down Gillian’s cheeks. The puppy had been Jeremy’s Christmas gift to her, presented with a red bow around her neck and nestled in a wicker basket he’d set beneath Gillian’s tree. Gillian’s beloved collie, Princess, had died the previous spring, and she’d nursed a hole in her heart ever since. She’d been ready to adopt a new pet from the animal shelter last summer, but Jeremy had lobbied against it. He didn’t want a dog. He preferred cats. They’d debated the subject for weeks and eventually agreed to wait until after their honeymoon to adopt any pet.

  The Christmas surprise had melted her heart.

  She heard the front door open and recognized Jeremy’s footsteps as he headed for the laundry room where Gillian kept Peaches’ crate. Without looking up, she asked, “Peaches was a guilt gift, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “You were never going to agree to buy the building, were you? Why didn’t you just tell me? Why weren’t you honest?”

  “Would you put down the damned dog, and stand up, so I don’t feel as if I’m looming over you?”

  Holding Peaches close, she rose gracefully to her feet and headed for the kitchen door. “She needs to go out.”

  Jeremy sighed, shoved his hands into his pants pockets, and followed her. At the edge of her back patio, Gillian set Peaches down in the yellow winter grass. The puppy dipped her head and started sniffing. Gillian folded her arms and waited for Jeremy to speak.

  “You are right. I didn’t want to buy the building. It’s ridiculous to invest that much on a new, unproven business. I was watching out for us.”

  “What us? You made the decision all by yourself! Without discussing it with me.”

  “Sort of like you and all the wedding planning.”

  “I included you in the wedding planning.”

  �
�Did you? Or did you inform me of the decisions you made with your mother? You’re all about the wedding, Gillian, and this wedding has been more hers and yours, than yours and mine.”

  Gillian’s seething temper became a rolling boil. She recognized this tactic. He was attempting to divert her attention from the subject of the building betrayal. She wouldn’t allow him to attack her mother. “That’s not fair, Jeremy, and it’s not true. The wedding is two parts—the ceremony and the party to celebrate the service. The ceremony is the important part, and you and I have done all the planning and made all the decisions for that. As we should have done. But my parents are hosting the reception. You and I have picked the photographer and the band and menu and a million other details. My mother loves flowers. She loves to set a pretty table. If flowers are important to her, then she gets to pick the reception flowers! That’s not too much to give her when she’s paying for it!”

  “See, you’ve proved my point. The wedding is all you care about. You’re marrying me. You’re supposed to put me first. I wanted roses, not those fluffy things. You sided with her.”

  Gillian rounded on him. “They’re hydrangeas, not fluffy things, and that argument is ridiculous. What is this? What is really going on here? It’s not wedding floral. It’s you and me. Things haven’t been right with us for months. I thought it was premarital jitters, but it’s bigger than that. What are you trying to say, Jeremy?”

  “I was scared, okay?” He waved his hand wildly, frightening the dog, who scuttled to Gillian’s side. “I didn’t want to start a new business. I didn’t want wedding planning to become our lives. You weren’t paying attention to me. You shut me out.”

  “So you sabotaged me! You sold our dream!”

  “Not our dream. Your dream.” He folded his arms and lifted his chin pugnaciously. “When I learned the McBrides had made an offer on the mercantile building, I took it as a providential sign and declined the opportunity to counteroffer.”

  “You declined. You decided. You decided our future all on your own.” A white-hot storm of rage blew through her. “How dare you. How dare you! This isn’t the 1950s, Jeremy. I’m not a little woman who you get to pat on the head and say, Make me a sandwich and bring me a beer. Marriages today are partnerships. You don’t get to make unilateral decisions that affect both of us. If you felt this way about my dreams, then you should have manned up and been honest and started a conversation about it.”