Grace sighed and pecked me on the lips again. "See you in there, champ."
She snuck out underneath my arm, where I had it braced on the tree. I counted to twenty, then recited multiplication tables in my head until I could walk without an obvious limp.
When I entered the gym, I stopped short. In my stolen minutes with Grace, I'd missed a few arrivals. Namely, J.T. MacIntyre, who was sitting right next to a scowling Maxine Barton.
They saw me at the same time, Maxine exhaling in relief, J.T. scowling in my direction.
"Where've you been?" he asked. "Your truck was parked when I got here."
I kept my eyes firmly on J.T. as I sat in one of the too-small metal chairs. Grace and Francine were opposite of me, which probably wasn't a smart idea, as I struggled to keep my gaze from her.
"Client phone call came in right as I got out of my truck," I said easily. "Can't have confidential conversations within earshot of this fine group, now can I?"
J.T. grimaced, because he knew he couldn't argue.
"What, exactly, are you doing here, Mr. President?" Maxine asked, her tone as tart as a fresh lemon. "You've never deigned to grace us with your presence before."
He sat back in the chair and folded his arms over his chest. "The chamber of commerce is the single largest sponsor of the Headless Chicken Festival, isn't it? Thought I'd make sure my investment is being taken care of."
Oh, it was so pointed. And juvenile.
This man would need a lobotomy to get over his anger with me.
"Lord," Maxine grumbled. "Might as well piss on the table and get it over with, J.T."
"Excuse me?"
She waved a gnarled hand in my direction. "You. Him. We all know what happened. The problem is that you're bringing it somewhere it doesn't need to be, and that gets my panties in a wad, because this is my meeting, my committee, and not a lick of it has to do with your daughter's broken heart."
J.T. sputtered, and I probably would've thought the whole thing humorous, if Grace wasn't witnessing it.
"Maxine," J.T. said when he'd recovered, trying a different tactic than muscle. His voice was as slick and silky as a snake. "You know you're the best thing that ever happened to this festival. I just wanted to see how you do it is all. Nobody has ever been able to come close."
A few ladies at the table rolled their eyes, too old to be fooled by this side of him. Maxine's facial expression never even came close to wavering. She was iron and steel, voice dry when she spoke.
"If I wanted flattery, I'd have a man come to my house in the middle of the night." She laid her hands flat on the table and leaned in his direction. "If you wouldn't mind terribly, I'd prefer you get the hell out of my meeting and let me spend all your important money in peace, okay? You've never looked over my shoulder before, and I don't plan on allowing you to start today."
J.T. caught my eye and the stubborn set of his jaw made me shift in my seat. But given that he was outmaneuvered by Maxine, he had no choice but to leave. After a long glance around the table, his eyes only stopping once—on Grace—he left. Allowing myself one look, I glanced in her direction, and she was staring directly at the surface of the table.
Suddenly, Knoxville didn't seem far enough away for our first date.
Chapter 44 Grace
For first dates, the boots stayed home. And the look in Tucker's eyes at the red heels capping my feet made it worth every single step on those wobbly-ass stilts currently endangering my ankles.
"As much as I love those boots, Angry Girl," he murmured, taking my hand and twirling me so he could get a full look, "I don't think I'll ever complain about you switching it up to something like that."
"The bonus to the heels is this," I said when I was facing him again, my black dress still swirling a little around my thighs. All I had to do was lift my chin, and my mouth touched his with ease.
He hummed into the kiss, sliding his big hands along my back and ending just above the curve of my butt. "Definitely never argue with that."
We managed to leave the greeting at that one kiss, but our fingers stayed intertwined as he drove us to Knoxville.
Tucker kept the music low in the truck, but enough that I could hear it as we talked.
"I love this song," I told him.
His smile was small as he took his eyes off the road and let them roam over my face. He looked so handsome, wide shoulders and chest covered in a light blue dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show the rolling muscles and crinkly golden hairs on his forearm.
"What's that smile?" I asked. It was so much better now that I could drink in every single detail of him in exactly the way I wanted. My hands lifted to touch his freshly trimmed beard and he rubbed his jaw against my palm when I did. I could do that now. Stare at his face, watch how he formed words, memorize the texture of his facial hair and imagine how it would feel against the skin of my thighs.
"I heard this song for the first time a couple of days ago." He turned the smile toward me when he stopped at a red light. "It reminds me of you."
It was about a free spirit, a plaintive, sweeping melody that made me want to curl up in his arms and kiss him until we both fell asleep.
"Really?"
He nodded, hooking a wrist over the steering wheel when the light turned green.
I shifted closer to him on the truck bench and laid my head on his shoulder. His fingers tightened around mine and the contentment curling around my heart was
