see you cashing in with the ladies, Dunn Johnson,” Ava said. “You’ve got no room to talk.”
“Meh. Me and Jen are doing a mating dance, that’s all. We’re on again, off again, but I like her just fine. Someday we’ll prob’ly get married, just like you fine folks.”
Mal, Brooks, Ava, Paul, Diesel, and I exchanged mutual ping-ponging looks of disbelief at this assertion but kept quiet.
“It’s different with Tuck,” Dunn continued. “He wants to find a special someone, but he seems to keep striking out. He needs a batting coach, like I did in high sch—” Dunn gasped. “Oh my God! He needs a coach. I could be his coach.”
“You?” Mal demanded.
“Well, sure. Who better? No one knows Tuck like I do.”
“Yeah, but…” I began, but Brooks shook his head once again, so I shut my mouth.
“Tucker Wright is the best friend I’ve ever had, you know? He’s kind, and funny. And he makes the best jig and pig I’ve ever seen. Plus, he’s a good doctor too, if you’re into that sort of thing. He deserves better.” Dunn set his jaw determinedly. “And I’m gonna see that he gets it. Operation Get Tuck Fuc—er… you know—is gonna begin now.”
He marched down the path to the parking area after Tucker.
Mal elbowed Brooks in the side. “Why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you let us stop him?”
“I’ve known Dunn since he was born,” Brooks said, still watching his brother stomp away. “He’s the smartest idiot you’ll ever meet, and he’s more stubborn than a field of goats. He needs to figure this one out on his own, trust me.” He wrapped his arm around Mal’s waist. “Now come on, baby. I’m starving, and I’ll buy you some tater tots.”
Ava laughed, and she and Paul sauntered away after them.
I looked up at Diesel. “Are tater tots symbolic?” I demanded. “Like, red roses mean love, shredded potatoes mean fidelity… How’s that work?”
“Around here? Oh yeah.” Diesel nodded. “French fries are for first dates, but if you spring for tots, that’s a sign you’re committed.” He winked. “You want me to buy you some tater tots, baby?”
“Wow.” I whistled. “You sure we’re ready to take it to that level?”
“I’m sure.” Diesel kissed me softly. “In fact, you’re the thing in this world I’m most sure of.”
I grinned. “Then lead the way.”
We strolled down the pathway to the Partridge Pit booth, where Uncle Beau and Aunt Marnie stood chatting with straightlaced interior designer Colin and his biker husband, Riker—arguably the Thicket’s weirdest pairing, even more so than my own—and their sweet kidlet, while a couple of our line chefs and servers prepped orders.
When Beau saw the three of us coming, he grabbed a platter of barbecue off the counter and rushed out to meet us.
“Diesel—” he began proudly.
“Hey, Uncle Beau. How are you?” Diesel asked. “Any luck replacing the convertible yet?”
Beau waved his free hand. “Not a worry. Marnie got her heart set on one of them electric luxury cars. It’s on order.”
“Bah!” Marigold said happily. “Bah!”
“Would you listen to that? She said Beau!” Beau grinned. “She knows me!”
“Yes, sir,” Diesel agreed, like the baby hadn’t been making that noise for over a month. “She sure does.”
I snorted and bent down to release Mari from the carriage.
“I have a treat for you, Diesel.” Beau thrust the platter at Diesel with both hands. “Try this while I hold my baby.”
Diesel accepted the platter instinctively but stared down at the barbecue in dismay. “Sir, I…” He glanced at me, and I shrugged innocently. “I don’t eat meat.”
“’Course you don’t!” Uncle Beau’s mustache twitched, and he looked proud enough to bust the buttons off his suit. “That’s why this here is Miracle Meat, a plant-based meat substitute, covered in Partridge Pit’s all-new vegan sauce.” He grinned. “Inspired by my nephew-in-law and added to all Partridge Pit menus as of this very weekend.”
“Really?” Diesel blinked. “You did this for me?”
It killed me that no matter how many times I told my amazing husband he was worthy, he still found it in him to be surprised when someone else thought so too.
“Who else?” Beau demanded. He seemed confused that Diesel would ever doubt that. “Sign out front of that booth says Partridge Pit, doesn’t it?”
“Well, yes,” Diesel admitted.
“And you’re a Partridge.” He shrugged like it was as simple as that… because to him, it was.
Diesel swallowed hard, then nodded and popped a morsel of the barbecue in his mouth. He grinned. “It’s delicious.”