I automatically hate that I know the feeling she’s talking about. I feel it every time he’s around me. I flatten my lips and look away from her. “I’m not answering that.”
“You don’t have to,” Lily says. “Your face already did.”
It’s quiet for a second before all three of us dissolve into laughter.
“You two are the worst.”
“Correction,” Lily says with her pointer finger in the air. “We’re the best.”
I smile, settling back on the couch. The conversation quickly changes to the two of them discussing book boyfriends and that one time Dallas cried at the end of a romance novel Poppy forced him to read, only to pretend it was allergies.
Then they move to arguing about who gets to recommend what I read next. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, the thought hits me. The problem isn’t that I’m unsure of my feelings for Tucker. It’s that I’m feeling too much at once.
For Tucker.
For this house.
For the town that keeps making space for me.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not sure who Scottie Monroe is without the perfect polished persona I’ve always been told to keep in place. But sitting here, with cinnamon sugar on my fingers, sangria in my glass, and two women who have already decided I belong, I think maybe…just maybe, I want to find out.
EPISODE FIVE
A PINK BATHTUB BATTLE
TodayonNailed It or Failed It, we’re tackling the pink-tiled primary bathroom. In this room, Tucker and Scottie can’t seem to agree on anything except the fact that the entire bathroom needs a miracle.
It should be a straightforward renovation.
But nothing is ever simple when these two are involved.
And when you put two people in a small space, things get…well, complicated.
CHAPTER 20
YOU KIDS WANT RATINGS OR NOT?
Scottie
You want to know what’s grinding my gears today?
It’s not the fact that I’m sweating before the cameras even start rolling because this bathroom is the size of a shoe box. And it’s not because Tucker Daniels is standing in it wearing a white tank that’s practically painted on him, allowing me to see every muscle of his stomach through the fabric.
No.
It’s the fact that I wasn’t smart enough to say “Hey, let’s get the air conditioner in this house working before we do all the work.”
Which has snowballed to the above mentions and today’s sour mood.
I’m supposed to just act normal while working under these conditions?
“I’ve never seen a primary bathroom this small,” Tucker says. “I’m not even sure how they fit this tub in here.”
I keep my eyes down on the bathroom tile. He’s right, it’s barely big enough for a toddler, much less a primary bathroom. It feels claustrophobic with him standing at the doorway, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed and one leg over the other. So casual. So hot. Damn him.
“I can do this project myself.”
He smirks, pressing off the doorway to stand next to me. “Cameras want us close.”
