Page 112 of Love on Deck
I laughed. The furniture he found was probably water-warped, with peeling paint and a hole in the back. I’d come to see over the last few months how Jack found absolute junk and transformed it into beauty. Kind of like what he had done with me.
Okay, so I wasn’t junk before. But I liked how he saw through all my junky bits to whatever he was able to fall in love with underneath. I’d followed him to Arcadia Creek two months after he moved, and that separation had been good for us. It had led to a lot of FaceTiming and getting to know each other without physical attraction cutting down our conversations. The last two months I’d been living at the Fletcher homestead, though, had been even better.
I’d never lived in a house with a mom and a dad that I could remember, and while the Fletchers weren’t trying to parent me, they were filling in the empty places in my heart. I loved learning Jan’s recipes and secrets in the kitchen, and I loved hanging out with Roy and his favorite longhorn, Steve. To be fair, Roy was doing legit farm chores; I was the one hanging around and petting the animals.
I forced them to accept rent, but it was such a small number I wasn’t sure it even qualified. My expenses weren’t high in general, so taking the job with Camila wasn’t totally necessary—my savings could get me another six months, honestly—but now I could contribute. I wasn’t doing much for the B&B yet anyway, and it would be good to occupy my mind so fully again.
Plus, it was a part time job. So, perfect.
Jack’s voicemail finished up and I turned on the third one, loving how his rich voice filled the car speakers. He told me about his run-in at the mailbox with Tucker’s dog, Sadie, who hated him, then sighed. “You’re probably on your way home. I would tell you to hurry back to me, but you should probably watch out for deer instead. I’ll just sit here patiently waiting to see you again. Love you, Lauren. Bye.”
He hung up, and my heart was full. Then I did a sweep of the grassy areas on either side of the road. No deer in sight.
I forced myself not to speed anyway. Those little butts came out of nowhere.
Turning on my audiobook, I sighed. This was what contentment felt like.
* * *
Jack
Tucker let down the tailgate on his truck and pulled the blanket-wrapped dresser toward us. “You’re going to start paying me for deliveries soon.”
“Sure will,” I agreed, untying the ropes holding it down. “Right when I start paying you rent.”
“Don’t worry.” We heaved the heavy furniture on its side. “I’ve been keeping a tab.”
I laughed, but the weight of the dresser cut me off. It was one of the things I loved and hated about old furniture: everything was made from solid wood. Which meant I could restore it, but also that it was heavy to lift. Enter: Tucker and his guilt-riddled assistance.
At least it was fake guilt. He was kidding. I’d tried to pay him rent more times than I could count. It was now something of a joke between us, but I got him back by filling his cupboards and bringing him leftovers from Mom’s pretty regularly. Guaranteed the guy hadn’t eaten this well in years—all thanks to Lauren moving in with Mom and Dad and my inability to stay away from her.
We neared the front porch of the Hansen residence, where we were delivering a refinished dresser that had been in their family for generations, when voices curled through the front screen door, stopping both of us in our tracks.
“You think Jack’s gonna marry this Dallas girl?” Mrs. Hansen was saying.
“Well, you never know,” another female voice replied. “She’s a cute little thing, but Jan is tight-lipped. Can’t get a word out of her mouth about them.”
Mrs. Hansen made hmph. “There used to be a code between us gals, you know?”
“Mmhmm,” the woman agreed.
“We shared with each other. Now we have to wait and hear the news with the rest of this nosy town.”
Tucker caught my eye over the dresser. He lifted his eyebrow.
I nodded once, like let’s get this over with.
“I really think they oughta put a ring on that finger soon. We all know it’s gonna happen,” Mrs. Hansen said.
“Well, maybe,” the other woman replied. “But you never do know, do you? We all thought Tucker would marry June, and look what happened there.”
Tucker stopped, forcing me to grapple with the dresser, the weight straining my arms. We got a hold of it and I looked at him sharply, but his eyes had clouded over, his brow turning dark and thunderous.
No one mentioned June without getting a Texas storm out of Tucker. I swallowed, hoping he wouldn’t take it out on this poor dresser. She’d never done anything to hurt him, and I didn’t want to have to return to my shop to redo all my hard work.
“Just set it down softly,” I said, as if I was speaking to an enraged bull.
Tucker shook his head, clearing it.