The Happiness Pact. Liz Flaherty
the first of March.”
“That’s too bad.” But Tuck didn’t sound as if he thought it was too bad. He sounded kind of like a smirk looked.
“He asked me to come down there for a weekend. He has a house on Topsail Island. It won’t be beachy weather, he says, but still warmer than here.”
Tuck screwed in a few more lightbulbs. “Are you going to go?”
“What do you think?” She stepped from one achy foot to the other, feeling like a ten-year-old uncertain about whether she was ready for fifth grade. “Do you think I should?”
He hesitated and didn’t look at her when he answered. “I think you’re an adult, Lib. I can’t tell you what to do when it comes to relationships.” He reached to take more bulbs from her. “Don’t go this weekend, though, okay? It’s time for another adventure. Can you take an extra day off?”
“Probably. Neely pushes me out the door every chance she gets.” Libby put the old bulbs into a box for recycling. “Which is great for me. I’m thrilled the business can support us both. It just feels weird. I haven’t taken extra time off for years, and all of a sudden I am. What should I pack?” She knew better than to ask where they were going—he never told her.
“Walking shoes.”
She stifled a groan. She’d better pack the Icy Hot, too.
* * *
“FLYING? WE’RE FLYING?” Libby’s gray eyes were huge. Unless Tucker missed his guess, the little blue lights in them were shooting sparks directly at him. “Tucker, I’ve never flown anywhere. I’ve barely left Indiana.”
“About time then, isn’t it?” He pulled into a parking lot.
“Where are we going?”
He swung into a parking place and grasped her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Trust me. Okay?”
“Why would I do that?”
It was there again, that look he couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of, and he’d have said he knew all Libby’s expressions. He’d seen it when they’d mentioned the night of the accident in her kitchen. She was grinning, open and challenging, but there was something missing, too.
He sniffed. “You wound me with your lack of faith. I’ve never told anyone about you losing your lunch when we rode the bullet at the 4-H fair when we were in the seventh grade, but you still don’t trust me?”
“Well, since I did it in front of half the county, I’m really impressed that you kept my secret. Okay, I trust you. But if I lose my lunch on this plane, you’ll be sorry.”
He opened his door. “Come on, Nausea Nellie, let’s go. See that shuttle coming? We’re going to ride it to the terminal.”
By the time they’d checked in, he’d had to tell her they were on their way to Nashville, Tennessee. To be tourists, something she’d spent precious little of her life doing, and go to the Tennessee branch of Llewellyn’s Lures and his apartment in nearby Gallatin. He’d lived there until moving to Indiana to share the CEO duties with Jack at corporate headquarters. He still missed it.
He never flew first-class, considering it a waste of money, but for Libby’s first flight, he’d booked two of the roomy front seats on the plane. They were still on the ground when she was holding her first cup of coffee.
“See there?” He pointed to the pocket in front of her. “That bag is for when your stomach decides you don’t like flying. You did have breakfast, didn’t you?”
“Just that drive-through biscuit.”
“Oh, Lord.” The biscuit sandwiches were good, but they also sat like lead on a normal stomach—heaven only knew how hers would react. “Read the magazine.”
But she couldn’t. She was too excited. When the plane taxied down the runway a little while later, her eyes widened with anticipation. “I’m not scared. I thought I’d be scared.” But she grabbed Tucker and cut off all circulation to his right arm.
Other than a little gasp when the plane lifted, she did well with takeoff. “Well,” he said, “that’s a relief. I don’t have to be embarrassed.”
“Right. Like you can be embarrassed.” She sipped the last of her coffee and set the cup aside. “So, now that I’m an expert in commercial flying, let’s talk about your personal life.”
He snorted. “If you want a nap, just say so. You know my personal life is boring.”
“Well, sure, I know it, but I didn’t know you did.” She patted the hand that was only beginning to resume normal blood flow. “Tell me about Meredith. She’s come into the tearoom with Arlie. She seems very nice. And beautiful.”
“She is nice. And beautiful. Her kids are good, too. They miss their dad.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It is. It’s not like Jack and me—we never missed ours at all. From everything Meredith says, he’s a good father. He lost his way in the marriage, though.”
“Do the kids see him?”
“Yeah. He lives in Indianapolis and he comes and gets them every other weekend and drives up and has dinner with them one night during the off week. Pays support right on time, even early. But he and Meredith don’t communicate at all except for texting about the kids or the very occasional phone call. When he picks them up, she sends them out to the car. When he brings them home, she stays inside and opens the door when they come onto the porch. She’s never said why they broke up, but it must have been serious stuff.” He hesitated. “Is that more than I should say about her?”
“I don’t think so. I—” Libby stopped. “You know what? It probably is. I mean, I’m not going to repeat anything you tell me. You know that. But if I were dating someone, I wouldn’t want him talking to another woman about me, even if that woman was twenty-seven minutes older than him and no competition whatsoever. I’d feel as if he owed me some loyalty, or at least confidentiality.”
“You’re right.” She was, and it bothered him that he hadn’t hesitated at all in talking about Meredith. If he had known truly private things about her, if they were having a physical relationship, he would have felt safe talking to Libby about that, too.
Sometimes he wasn’t nearly as sure about his nice guy status as he wanted to be. “But, hey,” he said, picking up on something she’d said, “what do you mean, if you were dating someone? You are. You’re dating Nate.” Although it didn’t feel right to him, and he couldn’t really figure out why. Nate was one of the good guys, too.
But maybe not good for Libby. Maybe that was what didn’t feel right.
“Not really dating. I think he still looks at me only as Jess’s little sister. There’s someone in North Carolina, too. The more he tries not to mention her name, the more often ‘Mandy’ enters the conversation.” She smiled, a lazy, sleepy expression, mildly regretful. “He is fun, but it’s definitely a buddy thing.”
The flight attendant came around, bringing more coffee and assuring them the weather in Tennessee was going to be great today. She smiled at Libby’s drowsy expression and procured a blanket and pillow from the compartment above.
“Do you want something more?” Tucker asked when the woman had moved toward the back of the plane. “More than fun, I mean.”
“I do.” She drank, then set her cup down on the tray table and turned her head to look out the window. “I want to be something besides good old Lib to someone.”
* * *
“OH, RHETT!” LIBBY fluttered her eyelashes at Tucker as they toured the gardens at the Hermitage, the home of Andrew Jackson. “How you do go on.”
“You’re