Dunn widened his eyes and opened his mouth, just like the painting. “Oh my gourd!”
Diesel, Paul, Mal and I laughed out loud. Brooks and Ava shook their heads and grinned.
Jenn, however, looked annoyed. “Never mind. Honestly, Dunn Johnson, you’re such an idiot.”
Dunn snickered as she walked away. “It’s hard to find a woman who appreciates my sense of humor in this town.” He sighed. “I swear, that’s why I spend so much time with—”
“Tucker,” Paul said.
Dunn nodded. “Exactly.”
“No, Dunn, I mean… Tucker.” He nodded over Dunn’s shoulder, and all of us turned as a unit to see Tucker Wright kissing a cute guy in skinny jeans, thick black glasses, and a heavy cardigan.
“Well, now. Looks like he’s doing just fine in the dating department, Dunn,” Brooks remarked.
Dunn blinked at Tucker, lip-locked with the hipster, like they were a math problem he’d gotten wrong. “Tucker! Hey, Tuck! Come over here.”
Tucker’s cheeks went red when he saw all of us watching him, but he gamely led the man over to our group. “Hey. How’s it going. Um. Cyril Larson, these are my friends Diesel and Parrish, Ava and Paul, Mal and Brooks, and uh… Dunn.”
I wasn’t sure if Tucker noticed Dunn’s discomfort at being a footnote at the end of the sentence.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Dunn said abruptly. “Did you see Bernadette yet? She was a little nervous earlier, so I gave her a pep talk, but I know it would mean a lot if you gave her one too.”
“Bernadette?” I mouthed at Brooks.
Brooks rolled his eyes. “Bernadette is Dunn’s pet pig.”
“She’s not a pet,” Dunn said hotly. “She’s livestock, Brooks, Jesus. She just… happens to have a name.”
“And her own shed, away from the other pigs,” Brooks retorted. “And you named me and Tuck her guardians if anything should happen to you.”
Dunn’s face flushed. “As any good livestock owner would, yes.”
“No,” Tucker interrupted, taking the heat off Dunn. “I haven’t gotten over to the pig display yet. I’m afraid Cyril isn’t a fan of animals.”
“Not a fan of animals,” Diesel repeated slowly, like he couldn’t imagine such a thing. “Really?”
“Nor of jamborees. Nor hoedowns. Nor…” Cyril darted a glance at Amos Nutter, twerking to the band’s cover of “Sweet Home Alabama.” “Whatever you call this.”
Tucker looked crestfallen. “I’m so sorry. I thought you said you liked festivals.”
“Festivals, Tucker. Where one can appreciate music and culture. Something more refined.” Across the way, Emmaline Proud yelled, “Yee haw!” and Cyril shuddered. “Something that’s in any way refined.”
Dunn narrowed his eyes. “Hey, we are plenty refined! Why, not thirty feet from where you now stand, one of our local artists has carved a squash into a replica of Edvard Munch’s The Scream.”
“Really?” Tucker’s eyes widened. “Oh my gourd!”
Dunn snickered, then burst into laughter. “That’s exactly what I said!” He and Tucker shared a grin… and the rest of us grinned at the two of them grinning.
Cyril huffed. “Well. Fun as this has been, I’m afraid I have a sudden, devastating headache. I’m going to get going.” He motioned toward the parking lot.
“But.” Tucker shook his head and turned away from Dunn. “I could get you something. I’m a doctor, after all.”
“Ah, no.” Cyril shook his head. “Thank you. I think I’ll feel better once I get… home.”
The charged silence that fell after Cyril gave us all a final nod and walked off was broken only when Dunn forced a laugh and walked behind me to grab Tucker by the back of the neck and shake him a little. “God, what a jerk, huh? Good riddance, Cyril. Honestly. What kind of a name is Cyril, anyway?”
When Tucker didn’t reply, he soldiered on, “What do you wanna do first, Tuck? We can see the squash. We can find ourselves in the maze. We could go sample a Haunted Pilgrim over at the Tavern’s booth? It’s made with pumpkin and bourbon and guaranteed to make you see ghosts! Whaddya say?”
Tucker shook his head and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Actually,” he said, pulling away from Dunn, “I think whatever Cyril had might have gotten to me too. I’m gonna go home. Y’all have a good night.”
Dunn shook his head as Tucker walked off. “That poor guy. You know, he’s my best friend, but he’s kind of odd. I’ve never known him to have a crush on anyone.”
Diesel frowned and opened his mouth to state the obvious, but Brooks shook his head once in the negative, and Diesel closed his mouth again.