Chapter 33
Autumn
Once Tucker’s done installing cameras in the barn, we go for manicures and pedicures with the bridal party at Hott Spot Salon & Spa.
Hott Spot is part of Hott Springs Eternal, the spa branch of the resort, and it’s run by one of Hanna’s sisters-in-law, Sonya.
She gives Tucker and me a quick tour. It’s a gorgeous space—big, airy, luxurious.
The lobby is full of tempting products—handmade soaps, locally woven scarves, an assortment of hair bands, clips, and fasteners.
The space smells like flowers and vanilla, and soothing music fills the whole spa, rippling by us as we walk through its peaceful halls.
She sends Tucker through the men’s locker room and leads me through the well-appointed women’s locker room, and we meet on the hot springs patio.
Beyond the tiled deck, there’s a pool built to look like it’s surrounded by rock outcroppings, with natural waterfalls and smaller basins above and below. Steam rises off the water.
She tells us we’re welcome to use the hot springs any time we want for the duration of the wedding—no appointment necessary—and that they now also have private hot tub rooms that we can book if we want a little time to ourselves. I give Tucker a grin. Private hot tub room sounds pretty good to me.
Tucker’s supposed to hang outside the spa so we don’t draw attention. But against my protests, he follows me to the mani-pedi room and sets himself up just outside the door.
The rest of the bridal party is having none of that.
“What’s he doing here?” Summer demands.
“Fems only,” Dottie says. “No boys allowed!”
“Awww,” says Truth. “They’re adorable! Brand-new couple, can’t be apart! Don’t make him go.”
“You just like looking at him,” Dottie says.
“I mean, who doesn’t?” Truth murmurs.
“If you’re here, you have to get at least a pedicure,” Dottie tells Tucker.
He scowls.
“Come on. It’s not like you have to have pink nail polish. Just let her pamper you.” She seizes his arm and drags him into the mani-pedi room.
I happen to know, from becoming intimately acquainted with Tucker’s strength and size, that there’s no way she could possibly do that if he weren’t at least semi-willing.
He pretends to resist all the way until his butt settles into the heated chair, and then he relaxes like a herding dog who’s corralled all the members of the pack into one room and can finally flop to the floor.
“See?” I say. “Not so bad.”
He’s still grumbling as Lily, the pedicurist, maneuvers his feet into the tub of steaming water, but he quiets down quickly, and when I look over, his eyes are closed and his mouth is slack with relaxed bliss.
I recognize that look, and my body responds.
Later, I tell it. We’ll make him look like that later.
He still emits an occasional growl of annoyance as the pedicurist runs through her procedure, particularly when anything involves the cuticle nippers. I think Tucker is a bit of a baby.
But when Lily gets to the foot-massage part, his eyes close again and a moan he can’t contain escapes his lips. I hide my smile. We all do.
“What color are you going to do?” Lily asks.
“No color,” Tucker says.
“Dark blue,” Summer suggests, finding it for him.
“Silver,” Jane chimes in, setting the small bottle down on the table next to Tucker.
“Fuchsia.” I put my bottle down next to Jane’s.
I watch Tucker’s face, where a smile plays around the edges of his mouth, and wonder at the transformation I’ve witnessed in a few days, from taciturn grump to this guy.
Tucker’s not the most talkative dude on earth, but the guy I met several days ago was as grim as the Pacific Northwest in November, and this guy might actually be enjoying himself.
“Silver,” he says finally.
We all admire the polish as it goes on, giving Tucker a set of robot-metal toes.
I figure he’ll head back into the hallway to hide once his pedi is over, but he stays and insists on choosing colors for the others: Summer gets the dark blue and I get the fuchsia—only fair, karmically.
Jane gets gold. Dottie gets fire-engine red.
Truth gets pale pink with sparkles. And before we’re done, Tucker is laughing and teasing with the best of them, and I can’t help wondering if I had anything to do with it, his transformation.
I hope so.
After mani-pedis, it’s rehearsal time. Tucker and I are late to arrive at the barn because we have to stop and get a fake bouquet that Summer left in the lodge.
When we show up and step into the barn, all eyes turn to us. And I realize we’re standing at the back of the wedding barn, facing the altar, and I’m holding a fake bridal bouquet in my hands.
“Ah,” murmurs Tucker.
“Yeah,” I say. “A little…awkward.”
“Autumn!” Summer calls. “Can you and Tucker pretend to be Jane and me? We don’t want to spoil the big moment by having this ‘practice’ moment.”
I’m so sure that Tucker’s going to refuse that it nearly bowls me over when he says, “You okay with that?”
Am I?
“I—”
“Because if it’s weird, if it’s going to make you feel bad that this isn’t your wedding, like we talked about…”
His eyes are soft. And God, I like this guy. I like him so fucking much. He’s tough as nails and squishy as a marshmallow, and if I let myself go even an iota more, I will fall so hard in love with him that I will never get up.
I think of him yesterday, of his hesitation when we were talking about the future. How he said he wasn’t sure either of us was in a place to try to make this work.
I need to hold myself back that last little bit. Until I can be sure he wants the same thing I want.
But in the meantime, I’m committed to doing everything I can to make sure this wedding goes smoothly and that Summer is happy.
“Yeah,” I tell him quietly. “I’m okay.”
Tucker and I stand across from each other under the pretty lattice arch that by tomorrow morning will be woven with flowers.
At first I don’t let myself look at him.
Despite everything that’s happened between us, this feels more intense and serious than I was ready for.
But as the justice of the peace runs quickly through the ceremony that Summer and Jane wrote, I let my eyes meet Tucker’s.
And he’s looking back at me with so much feeling in his gaze that I almost have to look away again.
Except I can’t. It’s like he’s caught me in the tractor beam.
His eyes move over my face, like he’s memorizing me.
And what am I supposed to make of that? Is he trying to tell me that he’s right here with me?
Or is he trying to get himself ready to say goodbye?