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  He drives away, and Dad and I smile at each other. “Looks like you just bought yourself three hundred acres, sugar.”

  “If old man Truman takes my offer.”

  “He will.” Dad takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I have a good feeling about it.”

  “Would you like a waterfront house?” I ask him.

  “Nah, I don’t like gators either. Let’s stick to the meadow.”

  “Deal.”

  “When are you going to tell Tucker?”

  “I already told you, I’m not telling him anything. I’m showing him.”

  Dad shakes his head and walks to the car. “Put that poor boy out of his misery.”

  “I’m working on it. But you gotta admit, this is a pretty great plan.”

  “It’s a wonderful plan. Tucker’s a lucky guy.”

  “I’ll be the lucky one, just as soon as I get him back.”

  21

  ~ Tucker ~

  I tip my head back and cringe as the whiskey burns a path down my throat.

  “One more,” I say, putting the shot glass on the bar.

  Scooter takes the shot glass and eyes me warily. “You sure?”

  “Scooter, that was my first one.”

  “But you usually don’t do shots. I’m just looking out for you.”

  “I don’t need you to look out for me, I need you to pour me another shot.”

  He lifts a brow and looks at Dean but does as I ask.

  “I take it you haven’t talked to Scarlett,” Dean says.

  “Not since she left me.” And now, I’m a miserable fuck. I never thought I’d be the type of man to pine over a woman, but that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Even Chloe doesn’t want to be around me.

  Scooter slides the full shot glass to me, and I toss it back. I hand him the glass and lean my elbows on the bar.

  “I contacted the Nashville P.D.”

  It wasn’t an easy decision to make, but it was the right one because I can’t live without Scarlett. She’s it for me, and if she isn’t willing to bend, then I have to be.

  Scooter’s jaw drops open.

  Dean scowls. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

  “Because I love her.”

  “So, you’re just going to leave? What about me, and Mom and Dad, and Chloe’s friends, and—?”

  “And me,” Scooter inserts.

  “What does Chloe think about this?” Dean asks, flustered at the bomb I just dropped.

  “She doesn’t know. I didn’t want to say anything until I heard back from them.”

  “Have you heard back from them?”

  I look at Dean and nod. “I’m scheduled for a phone interview next week. If that goes well, I’ll make a trip out there for a face-to-face interview.”

  “Fuck.” Dean pushes his hands into his hair.

  “For the record, I think you’re doing the right thing.”

  “Thank you, Scooter.”

  He nods. “Have you told Scarlett?”

  “Not yet. I didn’t want to get her hopes up. I might not get the job.”

  “You’ll get the job,” Dean says with an air of confidence. “You’re a damn fine police officer.”

  “Don’t you think you should run this by Scarlett first? What if you take the job and move there, and then she doesn’t take you back?”

  Damn. I never even considered that option. “I’ll have to think it over. I didn’t say my plan was foolproof.”

  “What’s up, gentlemen?” Chuck says, sliding onto a barstool on the other side of Dean. He was four years older than us in school and is a regular here at Scooter’s.

  “How are ya, Chuck?” Dean says, shaking his hand.

  “I’m great.” He smiles brightly and points at Scooter. “I’ll have a Bud Light, and one for these fine men, too.”

  “Thanks,” Dean says.

  “What’s the occasion,” I ask as Scooter slides a beer to each of us.

  “I just closed a massive sale.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Dean looks from Chuck to me and back to Chuck. “What sold?”

  I snap my fingers. “Was it that old building on twenty-third? I hope whoever bought it, tears it down. That thing is an eyesore.”

  Chuck shakes his head. “Nope. I just sold the old Truman place.”

  “Bill Truman?” Dean clarifies.

  “The one and only.”

  I take a drink of my beer. “That place has been for sale for years.”

  “Trust me, I know. No one wanted to buy it because he was asking way too much.”

  “It’s a damn fine piece of property,” Dean says.

  “It sure is, and all it took was the right buyer with deep enough pockets.”

  “Who in this town, other than Truman himself, can afford to pay that kind of money?” I ask.

  “Scarlett Kincaid, that’s who.” Chuck tips his beer toward us and takes a swig, while mine spews from my mouth.

  “Damn it, Tucker.” Scooter tosses me a rag to clean up the mess, but all I can do is stare at Chuck.

  “Scarlett bought the acreage?” That’s impossible. She has no interest in living here. The Truman place is made for all of the things that I want in life, stuff that she made it clear she has no interest in.

  Chuck nods. “Wrote a check and signed the papers today. It’s official.”

  “What the hell is she going to do with three hundred acres?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around this new piece of information.

  And why didn’t she tell me that she was buying it?

  Maybe because she really is done with me. The thought is like a punch to the gut. And to think that I was about to uproot my family and my life to be near her.

  “She talks like she’s going to build a big ol’ house.”

  “Great.” I drain the rest of my beer and slam it down.

  “Easy,” Scooter warns.

  I give him an apologetic look and lower my head to my hands. The last thirteen years have been hard enough, thinking about her and missing her, knowing she wasn’t around. How am I supposed to live in the same town as her and not want to be with her? And what happens when she decides to start dating?

  The thought alone has my blood pumping and causes a twitch to start up in my eye. I’m going to end up in prison for murder because that’s what I’ll do—I’ll kill any man who even tries to touch her.

  I’ve gotta get out of here and go somewhere quiet where I can think about what I want to do. I pull my wallet out of my back pocket, toss a twenty on the bar top, and slide off the stool.

  “Where are you going?” Dean asks.

  “Home. I need to think.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “No need. I’m fine.”

  Scooter doesn’t say a word, but one look at him, and I know that he knows how badly I’m hurting.

  I drive home in a Scarlett-induced fog, every possible scenario of what she could be doing racing through my head. It’s well after three o’clock in the morning before I fall asleep, and I’m up again at the ass crack of dawn.

  Chloe had a slumber party for Lizzie’s birthday, and I don’t have to pick her up until much later, so I move around the house doing busy work. I mow the lawn, clean the gutters, trim the bushes, and wash my car, all while keeping a close eye on Rick’s house, hoping for a glimpse of Scarlett.

  I know she hasn’t left because her rental is still in the driveway, and I’m determined to be here when she comes outside. And when she does, I’m going to corner her and find out what in the world is going on. She can’t stay cooped up in Rick’s house all day.

  I watch and wait and wait some more and an hour before I’m due to pick up Chloe, I dart in the house and take a quick shower. When I walk back outside, Scarlett’s car is gone.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think that she was waiting for me to go inside before leaving.

  “That’s it,” I mumble marching across the yard.

  I bang on
the door twice, and it flings open. Rick smiles at me.

  “Where’s Scarlett?”

  “Nice to see you, too, Tucker.”

  “Sorry.” I drop my head and sigh. “Hello, Rick. You’re looking great. How’s life?”

  “Not too shabby, thanks for asking.”

  I nod. “Good to hear it. Where’s your daughter?”

  “I imagine Lexi is with the kids. She’s probably at home if you need to talk to her.”

  I stare at him blandly. “You know I’m not asking about Lexi.”

  “Oh,” he says dramatically. “You mean Scarlett. She just left.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “Alfonzo’s.”

  “The Italian restaurant? Who did she go there with?”

  “Uhh…” Rick’s smile falters. “A friend. She went with a friend.”

  “Scarlett doesn’t have any friends here.”

  “She made a new one.”

  He’s lying through his teeth. “Really? What’s her name?”

  “Damn it, Tuck.” Rick drags a hand through his hair. “I can’t lie for shit. She’s at Alfonzo’s with Dawson Peterson.”

  I flinch back. “Dawson Peterson?”

  What the hell would she be doing with Dawson Peterson? Sure, he has lots of money and his own business, but—

  “Wait. Are they on a date?” I’ll kill him with my bare hands if he so much as touches her.

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Then, what is it?” I shake my head and step off his porch. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe that I was ready to take a job in Nashville to be with her and here she is buying land, going on dates, and living her life as though our relationship didn’t just end.”

  “Wait, you know about the land purchase?” Rick asks. “Did Scarlett tell you about it?”

  “No. Chuck came into Scooter’s last night, bragging about it.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why?”

  “No reason. I was just curious.”

  I turn to Rick and look at him pleadingly. “What’s going on, Rick? Is she moving on for good? Is that what’s happening? Because I don’t know if I can do this. How am I supposed to watch her move on with her life, knowing it doesn’t include me? It’ll fucking kill me.”

  Rick frowns. “You need to talk to her, son.”

  “Why do you think I’m here? I stood outside all morning and half of the afternoon, waiting to see her, and the second I stepped inside, she disappeared. Obviously, she doesn’t want to see me. Christ, I’m such an idiot.”

  I turn away, and Rick calls out to me. “Where are you going?”

  “I have to go get Chloe.” And then I’m going to call the Nashville P.D. and tell them to pull my application because I refuse to chase a woman who doesn’t want to be pursued.

  “Are you okay, Dad?” Chloe asks, climbing into the car. She tosses her backpack into the back seat, buckles up, and looks at me.

  “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t know, you tell me. You look like shit.”

  I give her a hard look. “Language.”

  “Sorry.” She blanches and then tries to offer me that innocent-little-girl smile. “So, what gives?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Right. And I’m Taylor Swift.” Chloe’s phone vibrates in her bag, and she reaches back to pull it out. I started letting her take it to sleepovers in case she needs to call me to come and get her, but only with the understanding that I have access to her texts and pictures when she gets back.

  “Who’s that?” I ask.

  “Scarlett,” she says, causing my heart to skip a beat.

  “Scarlett is texting you?”

  “Uh-huh.” Chloe finishes whatever it is she’s typing and puts her phone down. “She texts me every day.”

  Well, isn’t that just great? She loves my daughter enough to text her but can’t bother reaching out to me. Is the woman trying to drive me out of my mind? Because she is, and she’s ripping my heart out in the process.

  “Would it be okay if I spend some time with her tomorrow?”

  “For what?”

  Is it pathetic that I’m jealous of my own daughter?

  I shouldn’t be that way. I should be happy that Chloe has a woman in her life that she can trust and enjoys spending time with.

  “Just to hang out. I miss her.”

  Me, too! “I guess. Is she going to pick you up?”

  “Yep. Thanks, Dad.” She types out another text, presumably to Scarlett, and then turns up the radio.

  On our way through town, I see Dawson Peterson’s truck pulling into a parking space outside of his office building. I whip my car to the left, take the spot beside him, and open the door.

  “Stay here, Chloe, I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just need to talk to someone real quick.”

  She shrugs, and I shut the car door. When I walk through the front door of Dawson’s building, a bell chimes, signaling my entry. A second later, he walks out of his office and smiles at me.

  “Hey, Tucker. Long time no see.”

  He holds out his hand for me to shake, and when I take it, I pull him close with enough force for him to realize that I’m not here for a friendly visit. I have to be careful about how aggressive I get because I’m a town cop, but I can still let the guy know I mean business.

  “W-what are you doing?” he stutters.

  “If you hurt her, I will break every bone in your body.”

  His eyes grow big. “Hurt who?”

  “Scarlett. She’s special, and she deserves someone who is going to treat her like gold, and that someone isn’t you, it’s me. She can’t see that right now because she has her head stuck so far up her ass, but that woman is mine.”

  Dawson is shaking his head furiously and trying to back away, but I won’t let him. “I’m not with Scarlett.”

  “You had lunch with her today.”

  “It was strictly business, I swear.”

  I loosen my grip but don’t let him go. “What business could you possibly have with her?”

  “She hired me to build her house.”

  “She…what?” I release my hold, and Dawson takes two giant steps back, his hands in the air.

  “I’m going to build her and Rick’s houses.”

  “She’s building a house,” I say, to no one in particular.

  “And Rick’s. Maybe even Lexi’s, but I haven’t been contracted for that one yet. Our lunch today was to go over the contract.”

  So, it’s true. She’s moving back. The love of my life wouldn’t move back here for me, but she’s willing to do it now that we’re no longer together. A sharp pain rips through my chest. I reach up to rub the offending ache and walk toward the door.

  “You okay, Tucker?”

  “Sorry for bothering you, Dawson.”

  “No problem. You’re in love, and it makes us do crazy things.”

  “Yeah, I’m in love. But clearly, she’s not.”

  22

  ~Scarlett~

  “So, what did you think of the property?” I ask Chloe as we drive back to town. I pull into Charlie’s Diner and put the car in park.

  “It’s so pretty. And it’s out of town, but not too far from town, you know?”

  “That’s what I thought, too.” We climb out of the car and walk inside. Once we’re seated in a booth, I pull my iPad out of my handbag and bring it to life. “I have more things to show you.”

  “Awesome.” We pause to place our orders—two burgers, fries, and chocolate shakes thank you very much—and then we lean over the table, looking at the screen of my iPad. “Are these house plans?”

  “Yep. I have a couple that are my favorites, but I want your opinion.”

  “Cool.” I walk her through each one like we’re walking through them in real life. “So, the laundry is downstairs?” she asks with a frown. “But the bedrooms are upstairs. That’s a pain in the butt.
We have that now, and the laundry is heavy.”

  “You have a really good point,” I reply, considering it and not admitting that I haven’t done my own laundry in a decade. But no one wants to carry heavy baskets of laundry up stairs. The waitress sets our shakes in front of us. “So, we need a laundry room on the same floor as the bedrooms.”

  “That would be easiest,” she agrees. “Wow, your house is going to be awesome. I’m so excited you decided to move here.”

  “Thanks. And can I tell you a secret?”

  “Duh.” She grins and spoons some chocolate shake into her mouth.

  “I’m hoping this won’t be just my house. My goal is for you and your dad to live there with me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, but you can’t tell your dad because it’s a surprise.”

  “I won’t tell him. Oh my God, this is so amazing. Can I decorate my room?”

  “Of course, you can. And you can help me decorate the rest of the house, too.”

  “So cool,” she says again just as her phone pings with a text. “That’s Dad. Where are you? You’ve been gone a long time. Geez, he’s been so grouchy lately.”

  I frown and sip my shake. “Really?”

  “Like, beyond grouchy,” she confirms and types out something to her dad. “And he’s mopey. Like I am when something makes me sad.”

  Well, damn. I guess in my haste to form a plan to get him back, I didn’t consider that, in the meantime, Tucker would be heartbroken.

  I’m a total bitch. That should have been the first thing on my mind.

  “I’m sorry he’s been hard to live with. That’s my fault.”

  Our meals are delivered, and Chloe digs into her fries. “Did you guys break up or something?”

  “Yeah.” I sigh and fiddle with a fry, suddenly no longer hungry. “I’m a horrible person.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re planning on building homes for your entire family, not to mention for a kid who isn’t even your kid. You’re just excited, and you have tunnel vision. That’s what Dad calls it when I do that.”

  “Your dad’s pretty smart.”

  “Yeah, he’s just been on my last nerve this week.”