Twelve
“Where do you want me?” Tuck prayed his cheeks weren’t turning red at the question.
A perfectly innocent question, but at the mention of want, Tuck couldn’t help but spin a dream or two of him and Piper living in this place as husband and wife.
“Just sit in my office.” Piper fluttered around her living room, straightening accent pillows and draping a tan-colored blanket on the back of her couch. She’d let Aaron Wellington in the gate mere seconds before.
“How will I know if you need me? Do you have a code word?” He slid his hands into his jean pockets.
Piper sighed and flopped onto the couch. “I don’t know, Tuck. I just know I don’t want to confront Aaron alone.”
“Then let me sit on the couch like a normal person instead of sequestered away in the office. Eavesdropping seems wrong.”
She closed her eyes, then quickly opened them. “Won’t that feel like an ambush to him?”
The fact that Piper was worried about the reporter’s feelings when she was the one being ambushed was one of the reasons he loved her. She still cared for others even if she was being wronged.
“Fine. I’ll be in the office listening.”
She smiled at him. “Thanks, Tucker.”
And now his cheeks were heated from her simple sincerity.
Lord God, whenever You’re ready to green-light me, I’ll tell her how I feel. Just please give me the words at the time so she’ll know how serious I am. I don’t want her thinking it’s a game.
The doorbell rang, and Piper made a shooing motion. Tuck nodded, then walked out of the living room and around the corner of the hallway into her office. It wasn’t a perfect place to be, but thanks to the vaulted ceilings, he’d hear every word of their conversation.
“Thanks for coming over,” Piper said.
“Sure. I’m surprised you have time to talk today. I know you leave for Turfway Park next week.”
“I just had a question for you.”
“Okay. But the article is coming along great. Keep winning, and it’ll go viral.”
“About that.”
There was a long pause and Tuck gripped the doorjamb. Lord, please give her the words.
“Did you leak the news about my parents to the media?”
Why did his chest feel so tight? His grip tightened as he waited to hear the journalist’s answer.
“It’s not quite like it seems.”
“Is that a yes?” Shock filled her voice.
“You see, I have a friend who works at the county paper.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And, well, he might have told me he saw the RMTC vehicle at Bolt Brook. He knows I’m writing an article about you. So I asked him to dig around and find out what was going on.”
“And then?”
“Once he did, he took the info to his boss.”
“How could you?”
Tuck leaned his forehead against the wall. He’d hoped Aaron wasn’t behind the leak.
“I did my job. Having this bit of information will only make your story more appealing.”
“Is that all I am? A story? Do you not realize actual people are being affected?
“Look, if you can’t handle the limelight, don’t reach for glory.”
Tuck straightened, one foot crossing the threshold. Wait, he reminded himself. She asked you to just listen. His jaw clenched.
“If you think you can hurt the people I love under the guise of good journalism and believe I’ll answer any more of your questions, you have got to be under the influence of some pretty good drugs.”
“Are you calling me crazy?”
“More like senseless.” There was a pause, then Tuck heard footsteps. “You can leave.”
“Piper, come on. People will learn the truth behind the accusations. If you let me tell your story, they’ll get that.”
“No, they won’t. I’m Maisha Farms, not Bolt Brook. Leave.”
As soon as he heard the door close, Tuck bolted and entered the living room to see Piper pacing back and forth. He could practically see the steam leaking from her ears.
“That man had the nerve to think he can still write my story.”
Tuck raised one eyebrow. “You cleared that up pretty quick.”
“Does he actually think just because he has a way with words I have to put up with his willingness to do anything to get a good story?”
“I think he does.”
“I never want to see him again.”
“And you don’t have to.” He sat down to watch her pace. Was it bad he was happy Aaron was out of her life even though he knew she saw him as just a journalist?
“But how can I share the greatness of horse racing with the masses now? How can I get people who look like me interested in the sport? We need more diversity.”
“So you still believe he should tell your story?”
She turned those big ebony eyes his way. “Help me, Tuck. Was I right to turn him away?”
He really hoped so. He’d had enough of that guy. But Tuck prided himself on acting on wisdom, not feelings, so he said a quick prayer while running a hand through his hair.
“He’s a good writer, and he claims the article will pull in millions of readers to learn about you and horse racing. That’s great, but what’s the cost?” Tuck paused, trying to gauge Piper’s reaction. At her silence, he continued.
“How will you be portrayed to readers? Will he tell the unbiased truth or the truth he wants readers to believe? Sounds like he wants to include the business with Bolt Brook. Will he sensationalize it to make a name for himself?”
“I prayed before giving him an answer the first time he asked to tell my story. I prayed God would give me the wisdom and, after consideration, I believed letting him write about me was the right decision.”
“And now?” Tuck held his breath. Please, let her be done with him.
“Now I’m wondering if I misunderstood God. Or is it one of those situations where it was right to say yes then, but now I need to cut my losses?”
“Or maybe Aaron needs to see the power of God.” No, Lord. Why did that just come out my mouth?
Piper scrunched her nose. “I hate when you say something that feels right but makes me want to be selfish. It’s not fair for you to be so wise.”
“Any wisdom you think falls from my mouth is all God. Believe me. I’m on the selfish train of thought more often than not.” Like now!
“Sure.” She rolled her eyes, then propped her chin onto her hand. “Unfortunately, you make a lot of sense. Maybe the yes all along was for Aaron’s salvation. He seemed increasingly irritated about my faith and my linking it to some of the questions he asked me.”
“Then show him God is real. Show him you won’t be shaken despite the paparazzi camping outside your parents’ estate and the RMTC coming to your farm. You’ll stand firm on the Rock and praise Him while the world watches and waits to hear more about Bolt Brook.”
“What if I am shaken, Tuck?”
He held out one palm. When she placed hers face down, he wrapped his fingers around her hand. “Then you reach out to someone who can lean on God and lift you up in prayer.”
“Why are you always there for me?” Piper’s gaze searched his as if she could see the answer for herself.
“Because you’re my person.”
His mouth dried at his vulnerability. She could take the declaration at face value, realizing how much he cared as a friend, or she could see the truth he couldn’t always admit to himself for fear of bursting the dam holding him in check. He loved her. Always her and only her.
“I always will be.” She squeezed his hand, then let go.
He wanted to take her hand back, tell her how much he needed her in his life. Only knowing this wasn’t the right time kept him from spilling the beans.
“Want some lunch?” Piper asked.
“Please.”
She made grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches. Then he grabbed the plates while she grabbed a couple of Ale-8s from the fridge and set the dishes on her coffee table.
“You know we have to watch a rom-com now, right?”
Right, because watching a movie about love with the woman he couldn’t tell he loved her was something he wanted to do. “I’m sure we can find a rerun of a race.” He reached for the remote.
“Nope. Pass over the remote,” Piper quipped.
He gave it a light toss, and she caught the control expertly, then blew the top like a sharpshooter in the Wild West. With a click of the button, her streaming service popped up.
“What’s online for the torture fest?” he asked.
Piper clicked on Julia Roberts’s face.
He groaned.
“What? This movie is the best.”
“My Best Friend’s Wedding is not a rom-com.”
Piper watched him with an amused expression. “Please. Do tell. Tell me how this doesn’t have romance or doesn’t make you laugh.”
“Oh, I’m not disagreeing with those things. But you’re taking them out of context.”
“I am, am I?” She folded her arms across her chest.
Tuck leaned forward. “You are. Because Julia Roberts doesn’t get the guy.” And he had no desire to watch the movie and wonder if such a scene would play out in real life. Tuck could be the guy losing out on the girl if his own failures got in the way.
“But—”
Tuck shook his head. “No buts. It’s not a rom-com. She loses the guy, and that’s not a happily ever after.” If Lamont or Chris heard him using these terms on a regular basis, they’d laugh way too hard. But Tuck had spent years watching ’90s rom-coms plus any new ones the movie industry put out. If a film looked like it had romance and comedy, Piper was dragging him to the theater or one of their living rooms to watch it.
“Does that mean you don’t want to watch that one?”
“Vehemently not.”
“It doesn’t sound like those two words go together.”
“Sounded a lot better in my head.”
Piper laughed. “Then which movie should we watch?”
“Does it have to be from the ’90s?” That was usually her criteria.
“Yes, please.”
“Let me think.” He scrolled through the mental Rolodex of rom-coms they’d watched over the years, searching for any that would be halfway decent.
“Clueless?” Piper suggested.
“‘As if,’” Tuck scoffed.
Her lips twitched. “Fine. What about The Wedding Singer?”
“Made in the ’90s but it’s really an ’80s rom-com. Nope.”
“The Best Man?”
“Who didn’t deserve to be one? Pass.”
“Drive Me Crazy?”
“One of the many remakes of Can’t Buy Me Love, which is an ’80s film. Nope.”
Piper sighed and bit into her sandwich. “You’re making this difficult.”
“Choose something better and it won’t be.”
“Runaway Bride?”
“Are you on a Julia Roberts kick? I’d rather watch Sandra Bullock.”
Piper sat up. “Good. Then choose one of her movies.”
“Her best ones were made in the 2000s.”
“No way. What about While You Were Sleeping?”
“That’s a Christmas movie.” He pointed outside. “It’s not Christmas.”
“You can watch that any time of year.”
He shook his head slowly. “Can you really?”
“Ugh,” she groaned. “You’re the worst.”
“Just minutes ago you were telling me I’m the best.”
She chucked a throw pillow at him.
He caught it in the air and tucked it behind his head.
“Miss Congeniality?”
“Made in 2000.”
“How do you know that?”
“You were on an early 2000s kick all through high school. That was number one on your list.”
She pouted. “You’re right.”
“I know.”
“Fine.” She chuckled. “Then what do you want to watch?”
“That’s a trick question, but how about The Proposal?”
“But it’s not 1990s.”
“Then Never Been Kissed.”
“Why do people like that movie? It’s a high school teacher falling in love with a student. It’s all kinds of wrong.”
“A fake student.”
He didn’t necessarily like that film, but he knew how much it annoyed Piper. He shrugged waiting to see if she would cave to his suggestion or pick something else.
“Fine. Let’s watch Never Been Kissed.”
Phew. Because watching Josie “Grossie” survive the living nightmare of high school twice would ensure Tuck had no compulsion to erase the distance between him and his best friend and end up cuddling with her.