The Happiness Pact. Liz Flaherty
She raised an eyebrow. “Provided?”
“Provided we use the same six months for me to grant your wish. You introduce me to prospective wives and mothers to my children and I’ll introduce you to adventure. What do you say?”
She arrowed a look at him. “I say you had one too many of those hot chocolates.”
“Hey, if I know anything, it’s adventure. That’s why when Jack and I divided up the CEO job at Llewellyn’s Lures, I got all the travel parts. Even when I headquartered at the Tennessee plant, I traveled to Michigan at least a half dozen times a year. That meant I stopped at all points in between just in case I’d missed something along the way.”
“I can’t travel. I can’t afford it, for one thing, and I have the tearoom, for another—which I’m going to enlarge this year by making the carriage house into a smallish event center. I need my adventures to be of the cheap, two-hour variety.”
“You have Sundays and Mondays off and an assistant manager who’d love to have some time in there without her micromanaging boss.”
As much as Libby hated to admit it, that part was probably true. Neely Warren had owned her own tearoom in Michigan before retiring to the lake with her husband a few years before. She’d been one of Libby’s most loyal customers, and when her husband asked for a divorce, Neely asked Libby for a job. Libby had agreed hesitantly, but it had been one of the best decisions she’d ever made.
“All right,” Libby said cautiously. “Let’s try it. You need to come to my church tomorrow. There’s someone there I want you to ask out. She’s a single mom, and she’s really nice. She has a beautiful garden, so I’m sure she likes planting flowers, too. I’ve never been to her house, but if it doesn’t have the four-and-two combination, you can buy a new one.”
“Tomorrow is New Year’s Day. It’s my birthday.” He looked at the clock behind the bar. “Well, actually, it’s already my birthday. I think people should sing to me again.”
“It’s also Sunday. St. Paul’s has never yet closed due to hangovers within its congregation. And you don’t need to be sung to anymore.”
He sighed so deeply she felt its vibration in the arm that lay alongside hers. She got gooseflesh again. “Okay. Fine. Ten o’clock service?”
“Yes.” She got to her feet. The Grill would close soon, and Jack and Arlie already had their coats on.
“I’ll be there.” Tuck finished his coffee and stood, holding her coat for her to slide her arms into. “Ground rules. I won’t hold you responsible if you introduce me to entirely unsuitable women—”
She planted her hands on her hips, her coat hanging loose from one shoulder. “I would never—”
He talked right over her, tucking her arm into the empty sleeve. “—and you won’t screech and get all girly when I choose adventures. Shall we shake on it?”
She extended her hand, then snatched it back. “I never screech.” Except for that time there had been bats in the attic of the tearoom and Tuck and Jesse had come to get them out. She’d cowered under a table in one of the dining rooms. Screeching the whole time.
“Then you won’t have a problem agreeing not to.” Tuck grinned at her, and she knew he was remembering the bat incident. The fact that he didn’t mention it was only one of the things that endeared him to her.
“Okay.” She slipped her hand into his, her breath catching a little at the warmth of his touch. They might have been just friends forever, but he was still an attractive guy and she was a girl who hadn’t had a boyfriend for a while. She withdrew her hand, pulling on her gloves. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Right.”
“Actually, you’ll see each other in the car. Arlie’s the designated driver, remember?” Jack, a bearded, glasses-wearing replica of his ten-months-younger brother, grasped Tuck’s scarf and towed him along, gesturing for Libby to precede them toward the door.
When they reached Seven Pillars, Tucker walked Libby to the back door. “Happy birthday, older-than-me.” He scrubbed a hand through her hair, which she’d worn down for the occasion. The friction created sparks.
“Happy birthday, sweet young thing.”
He hugged her, then kissed her cheek. She thought she felt a few more sparks, but that must have been leftover effects of the hot chocolate. Had to have been.
“Tomorrow, after church and once I meet your friend, you and I are taking off.” He smiled cheerfully. “You’ll want to dress warm and bring an overnight bag.”
Libby’s mouth dropped open, although she didn’t realize it until his tap on her chin prompted her to close it. “Overnight bag?”
“Yup.” He winked. “The adventure begins.”
“CHEMISTRY? HOW CAN you possibly know there was no chemistry? You talked for all of two minutes in the fellowship room.” Libby sat sideways in the passenger seat of Tucker’s Camaro, her hands lifted in supplication. “It was barely long enough to exchange phone numbers.” And how could anyone female possibly be with Tucker and not feel chemistry? Other than herself, of course. She never felt anything—the sparks the day before had been purely imaginary. Even if they hadn’t been, the knowledge that he wanted kids and that he would drive her insane within minutes was enough to put out any fires.
“Which we did not do, because her kid bit me.” Tuck held out his hand to show Libby the barely visible teeth marks. For the third time. “Fasten your seat belt.”
“It is fastened. He probably felt threatened.”
“After he bit me, he called me something I’d have gotten my mouth washed out for saying when I was in high school, for heaven’s sake. Then he threw his cookie on the floor and stomped on it. Calling me a name is one thing, but wasting one of Gianna Gallagher’s cookies is just ridiculous. I’m pretty sure I saw Father Doherty cross himself.”
Libby rolled her eyes. “He’s a priest. That’s his job.”
Tuck snorted. “He did it to keep himself from hiding the rest of the cookies.”
“What did Allison do?”
“Nothing. She said it was nice to meet me but that it probably wasn’t a good idea right now. I agreed. We smiled pleasantly and I ate another cookie. I must admit your church has excellent cookies and coffee.”
“Doesn’t yours?” She knew it did—she’d been there with him.
“I don’t know. When I do make it there, I’m usually late. I sort of slip in after everyone’s done shaking hands and sit in the back pew.”
“Where are we going?” She frowned when he turned onto the highway heading south.
“You’ll see.”
“You do realize I’m hungry, right? Do I get lunch on this adventure?”
“How long do you think you can wait before you expire from hunger?”
“Probably about ten minutes.” She gave him a pointed look. “If there’d been any cookies left by the time I finished applying first aid salve to your hand, I probably wouldn’t be that hungry.”
“Think so, huh? Well, then.” He turned the car sharply so that her shoulder bounced against his.
“What are we doing here?” She frowned at the Hall as he drove around to the back of it. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been in the Llewellyn mansion, although she probably knew every inch of its grounds. Tucker and Jack’s grandmother had never welcomed their friends