talking about?” He shook Tucker’s shoulder gently.
The table went weirdly quiet, so I piped up, “Tucker was just telling me about his LGBTQ organization. I think I’m gonna volunteer.”
“Ah.” Dunn’s smile faded, but he nodded enthusiastically anyway. “Sure. Yeah. You, uh… you’d be qualified for that?”
“Oh.” I exchanged a look with Tucker. “I sort of assumed every organization can use admin help, but if not—”
“That was Dunn Johnson’s super-smooth way of asking if you were gay,” Brooks interjected wryly. “Dunn, buddy, I keep telling you, it’s not subtle if no one gets what you’re asking.”
“Ha frickity ha,” Dunn mumbled. He shot his brother a smug smile. “FYI, I just came from the Johnson family homestead, and Mom told me to tell you she expects both of her darling boys for dinner tomorrow night. Which is to say, you two schlubs.” He pointed between Mal and Brooks. “Since I already told her I’m busy.”
Brooks groaned.
“She has a book of color swatches for your wedding,” Dunn said, twisting the knife. “And she was telling Dad how hard it is to decide whether periwinkle or cornflower goes best with navy accents.”
“What did Dad say?” Brooks looked vaguely horrified.
“Not a thing. ESPN was on, and they were discussing NASCAR at Talladega this week. Mom could have been talking about an alien spaceship landing in Amos Nutter’s pasture and Dad wouldn’t have noticed. She’s gonna present you with all her accumulated data and check her fabric samples against your eyes.” He laughed evilly. “I’m almost sad I’ll miss it.”
“We’ve only been engaged a minute,” Brooks whined. He buried his face in Mal’s shoulder. “Mal, I’m sorry to tell you this, but we need to elope, possibly tomorrow. Name your price.”
Mal lifted a hand to stroke Brooks’s head. “Hush! Don’t fear the swatches, my cornflower princess. Besides, if we eloped now, we’d miss the Lickin’ Apple-tini Slosh Fest.”
“That’s not until next weekend,” Brooks said hopefully. “Wouldn’t you like to go to the Pickin’ as my husband?”
“Oh.” Mal opened his mouth, then shut it again and narrowed his eyes. “That was low, Brooks Johnson. How dare you use my weaknesses against me.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Just for that, I’m letting her plan the biggest wedding in Thicket history. Also, I’m wearing navy, and you’re wearing cornflower for real.” He sniffed. “Remember, Cindy Ann denies me nothing.”
“I remember.” Brooks nodded remorsefully and ducked his head, but he didn’t look remotely put out by this. In fact, he looked so deeply contented and in love that I sighed. So did Tucker. He gave me a tight little smile that I returned.
Dunn grabbed an empty chair from another table and pulled Tucker into it, before dropping onto the booth seat beside me. “I know how much you like a little extra leg room, Doc. So, are we getting wings? Beer? Parrish, what are you in the mood…” He paused and sniffed at me, then wrinkled his nose and sniffed again. “Dude, you smell like lavender and coffee. What kind of fabric softener are you using?”
My cheeks went red. “I, um…”
Brooks snorted. “Since when do you know what lavender smells like, Dunn Johnson? That’s what I’d like to know.”
“Since I got a scented candle that’s lavender, Brooks Johnson. Duh.”
“You? Burn scented candles in your bachelor hovel?” Brooks lifted an eyebrow, and Dunn rolled his eyes.
“It’s not a hovel. And that’s prejudiced,” Dunn retorted smartly. “Gay men aren’t the only ones who appreciate a little lavender vanilla to brighten up the sitting room. Right, Tuck?” He leaned over to slap Tucker’s chest with the back of his hand and then shake him gently by the shoulder. “You tell him.”
Dunn and Tucker were clearly close friends, given the way Dunn acted so familiar around him and the fact that Tucker didn’t seem to mind.
“Scented candles don’t make you gay,” Tucker recited, like they’d had this discussion before, possibly more than once.
Dunn nodded. “Thank you.”
“So, let me guess. You two were best friends growing up?” I asked Tucker.
Dunn hooted. “Us? No way. Tucker’s like, a bajillion years older than me.”
“Eight,” Tucker corrected a bit sourly. “Just slightly less than a bajillion. In fact,” he added to me, “Dunn was friends with my brother Thom once upon a time. But since I came back to town, I guess you could say we’ve… hit it off.”
“Tucker tries to keep up with me. Right?” Dunn nearly leaned out of his seat to grab Tucker by the back of the neck. “Hey, speaking of,