Page 20 of A Tinsel Tale
Tank turns and his face breaks into a huge smile when he sees me. “Why if it isn’t Evie Parker!” He sets the full pitcher down on a table and scoops me up in a bear hug lifting my feet clear off the ground. There’s a lump in my throat as I hug him back.
“Hey, Tank. How’ve you been?”
“Same ole. I’m real sorry about your mom. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to ya at the funeral. She was the best.”
“Thanks. I understand. It seemed like the entire population of Michigan was there. Have you been keeping out of trouble?”
“Besides working at the fire station, I have a side hustle designing and selling t-shirts.”
“Putting your graphic art degree to good use,” I say.
“Tryin’ anyway. I sell some things at Betty’s and at Mama Barrington’s shop.”
“I saw your shirts at Mrs. B’s. They are fabulous! I had no idea those were yours. It said designs by Theodore. I never put it together. I think I forgot you had another name besides Tank.”
He shrugs, his cheeks coloring. “Mom’s the only one that ever calls me Theodore. Do you want a beer?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say. He grabs a red Solo cup from the stack and tilts it up to the nozzle, expertly filling it with minimal foam. Dee, Dad and Caleb go inside while Tank and I catch up.
“It sure is good to see ya, Evie. I guess I never did thank ya for all the free tutoring you used to give me in study hall. We had some good times back then, didn’t we?”
“Heck yeah! You were always a riot. Plus, the biggest sweetheart in the entire school.”
“Fraid not. That title belonged to you.” Loud voices blast us as the French doors open again.
“Well, well. Color me shocked. To what do I owe this honor?” a deep, familiar voice drawls. When he reaches my side, he smiles at me like I’m the grand prize and my knees go weak. His lips are so kissable… how many times have we kissed? A thousand… more? He was hotter than a five-alarm fire in high school but Jamie the man, lordy, no comparison. His jaw is strong and defined, dusted with afternoon stubble and the laugh lines around his eyes only add to his attractiveness. He’s taller and his shoulders and chest are broader, thighs more powerful than his younger self and he moves with an easy grace that is sexy as hell.
“Coercion,” I say smartly as I take a sip of my beer. Why in blue blazes does he have to look so damn good? Those freakin’ sunbeams seem to find every strand of copper hair on his head and accentuate them. His thick dark brows highlight his smoldering brown eyes that are currently sparkling with amusement.
“Welcome. Tank’s taking care of you I see. Game’s about to start. Let me give you the ten-cent tour, then we can get this party started,” he says. “Follow me.” He turns and doesn’t look back, knowing I’ll follow. I’m so tempted to ignore him and stay planted in the safe zone with Tank, but nosiness wins out and I trail behind like a lemming to the seaside cliff.
When I step inside, the generous den is packed with people. The room has cathedral ceilings with exposed beams and a wall of windows on the south side. There is what must be at least a 55-inch flat screen mounted on one wall and a bunch of eyes glued to the television… my dad’s being two of them. He’s surrounded by past students and ballers he’s coached, all chatting him up and he’s glowing. I smile, suddenly glad I came. Jamie grabs my hand and tugs me along weaving through the guests. A few say hello as I pass. I recognize some but not all of them. I’ve been away a long time.
From the den we enter the dining room that continues with the same hardwood flooring and opens to a large eat-in kitchen. I gasp. “Wow, Jamie. It’s beautiful.” And it is. All gleaming stainless-steel appliances, white cabinetry with glass backsplash beneath, granite counter tops and slate gray tiled flooring. A small kitchen table with a white tiled surface inlaid in wood sits under a large window with bird feeders right outside.
“It’s modern and inviting at the same time. I love what you’ve done with the place,” I say.
His eyes flash warmly. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress. Helps to have three brothers and a fire department on my side. I haven’t started on the second floor, but I’m almost done down here. Come on, I’ll show you the master suite. I turned two bedrooms into one.” I follow him into a sumptuous space that could be featured in any HGTV episode. Wood flooring, light gray walls with moss green accent chairs and throw pillows, a king-sized bed with a cream cushioned headboard and duvet with more accent pillows makes my jaw drop.
“Did you pick out the color palette?”
“That all depends. Do you like it?”
“I love it!”
“Then the answer is yes,” he grins. “My sister helped some. But thanks. I’m pretty pleased myself.” He walks to the wall and throws open a double door that leads into a walk-in closet where lights come on automatically when the door opens. Then he turns, waving me toward the bathroom and I’m blown away. There’s a double sized walk-in shower and next to it sits a jacuzzi bathtub. The walls and floors are all tiled with a his and hers sink sitting under a six-by-six-foot mirror and vanity.
“I still need to finish the trim in here, but for all intents and purposes I’m done.”
“I’m impressed.”
“It’s been a lot,” he admits. “But I enjoy remodeling. I like creating and I really like carpentry… working with my hands. Who knew,” he jokes.
I look around in awe. “I think it’s amazing.”
He looks at me and I have a hard time reading him. He reaches out and tugs on my pigtail, his voice a little gruff when he says, “I never thought in a million years I’d get to show you this place. I’ll admit sometimes when I was picking out fixtures and shit like that, I’d think about you and wonder if it was something you’d pick.”
My stomach drops and my knees go weak. Did he really think about me like that? I say, “I wouldn’t have come even close to this level. Seriously.”