A grin creeps over my face. I may not dream of getting married, but a good-natured fake proposal from a good looking man will always make me smile. “Aww, Demetrius. You’re so sweet. I’m sorry, but despite that lovely proposal, I have to turn you down. Don’t tell the native Tuft Swallowers, but I’m on the ‘crazy cat lady’ plan. As soon as I muster up enough courage, I’m adopting a dozen cats from The Great Catsby.”
“The Great Catsby?”
“Local cat rescue. In a bird-loving community like Tuft Swallow, a place like that is anathema to the townspeople. If it weren’t in the same building as the bookstore, I’m not sure I’d even know it existed.”
“That sounds amaz...” Demetrius’ words drift away as the wall beside us finally catches my attention.
Ducks.
Rubber ducks, to be precise.
Rubber ducks as far as the eye can see.
Chloe wasn’t kidding about this thing. If there were ever such a thing as a weird duck mural, this is it. At the center of the wall-sized painting is a cage with little rubber ducks wearingshorts and gloves with one looking like he just beat the crap out of the other. I always knew she was a decent artist, but Chloe isseriouslytalented. She made their little duck faces complete masks of concentration, a feat on its own considering the eyes are just black circles and there’s only so much you can do with a beak. I can almost see the killer instinct in their beady eyes. One little duck in the cage wears a striped referee shirt, and he’s holding up the arm of the less beat up looking fighter ducky. Outside the cage are two teams of ducks in matching shirts. I’m guessing those are the coaches and support people for each of the duck fighters. And the crowd!
The amount of detail Chloe put into the crowd is astounding. Despite depicting an MMA fight arena, this entire mural is giving serious Sistine Chapel vibes.This must have taken Chloe ages to paint. How did I not know she did this? Some friend I am.I could stand here all day picking details out in the crowd.Is that...?I step closer, holding my packages out to the side.Oh my God, it is!Chloe painted Mr. Landon into Nick’s mural. He’s there in the aisle, wearing one of his boring brown suits, a drink being dumped over his head by a distracted and overly enthusiastic fan. I look closer.She didn’t. She did.The overly enthusiastic fan is the serious woman from the library, Merethe. I’ve been on the receiving end of her epic shushes one too many times to not recognize her when I see her, even if it’s as a duck.Who else is in this thing?
“It’s really something, isn’t it?”
The deep voice behind me ignites a fire in my belly and I know intuitively who it belongs to. My eyes glide to the ducky in the ring with his arm up in victory. Of course. It’s so obvious I’m shocked I didn’t realize it at first.
That’s Nick, in duck form.
“When I hired Chloe to paint the mural, I asked her to paint an arena during a title fight, using rubber duckies in place of people. I had no idea she would paint me in rubber duck form.”
“Nick,” I say on a breath, forcing myself to ignore the flush of heat racing through me. Without turning, I add, “Where should I bring this stuff?”
“Who’s your friend, kid?” A scratchy voice cuts through my thoughts. “You going to stand there like a creep, or are you going to take some of those boxes from her like a gentleman?”
On turning around, I’m greeted by the sight of an older man who I know only by reputation. Peter Harrelson, Tuft Swallow’s own former world cornhole champion, and current grumpy curmudgeon. He tells the world he wants nothing to do with cornhole, but I’ve seen him sneaking around the field when the local team is practicing. Rumor has it he swore off the game when his nemesis from Spitz Hollow stole his championship and then his bride, but I don’t know if that’s true. No one in Tuft Swallow likes to relive the championship match of 1968. It’s the last time we lost, and it’s a bit of a sore subject for Tuft Swallowers.
This place is beyond serious about its cornhole.
“Iama gentleman, Peter. I was just getting to that. Why aren’t you with the rest of the Spring Chickens working on your hip circles? You know how much the ladies love a man who has nimble hips.” Nick swivels his hips in a way that reminds me of a sexy ballroom dance, making me burn all over again. “Tina, can I grab those from you?”
Mesmerized by the swaying of his hips, I can do nothing but nod dumbly and pass over the stack of boxes, thoughts of the mural, and Peter Harrelson, and decades old cornhole losses driven from my mind. Nick swivels away, his hips circling this way and that, and I follow without conscious thought, the tiny shorts covering his ample butt calling to me like a siren song.How does such a large man move with such sensual grace? And, more importantly, does he employ the same fluidity of motion in the bedroom?
“Are You Always Topless?”
Nick
I’m not normally muchof a dancer, but after the way Tina’s eyes glazed over when she saw my hips in action, you can bet I danced all the way back to the staff room. Hell, if she keeps looking at me like that, I might dance everywhere I go from now on.
“Have you heard anything else about the kid yet?” Tina asks. “Have you talked to his parents?”
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t. His biological parents aren’t in the picture, and I haven’t been in contact with his foster parents since a week after he got here.” Which sucks, because he’s a great kid. He does well in school, works hard at training,and helps around the house. He’s basically the opposite of what people who don’t know any better expect from a kid in the system, which makes it extra strange that I haven’t been able to track down his foster parents. The way they talked about him when they first contacted me led me to believe they were on their way to adopting him. Something must have happened for them to have dropped from the face of the earth. Even Jared’s caseworker hasn’t been able to track them down.
“Oh, no. Poor kid.”
I set the boxes on the table next to the stack Demetrius brought in. “At least Rhett is with him. It would really suck for Jared if he were in the hospital alone. I’ll be heading over as soon as the Spring Chickens finish their cool down and get back on their bus.”
“I thought that might be the case,” she says, grabbing two smaller containers from a bag I hadn’t noticed. “I packed up a couple of smaller takeout containers for you to bring. If Jared is okay and can eat, then maybe he can have some? I separated the noodles and sauce so he can eat them plain. There’s a little butter in there, too. Buttered noodles always helped me feel better when I overdid it.”
A warming feeling takes hold in my chest.I can’t believe she did that for me. Well, I suppose she did it for Jared. But still. It’s so thoughtful. And that thoughtfulness makes me like her even more.“That’s really nice of you, Tina. Thank you.”
She shrugs, her cheeks turning that shade of pink that is swiftly becoming my favorite color.I wonder how far that blush goes.
“It was nothing. I had extra lasagna noodles. Not the best kind of noodle to eat plain, but they’ll do. If he’s hungry, they’ll be just what he needs to soak up some of the alcohol. Well, as long as the doctor says it’s okay.” As she rambles, I creep closer, unable to stop myself from closing the distance between us. Ifthe curves on her body hadn’t called to me when I first saw her, the kindness she’s now showing some kid she’s never met would have. This woman keeps getting more and more appealing.
