Tucker sauntered back toward Enchanted Canyon Wilderness School a happy man. He’d eaten tacos, or a variation of tacos, in cities and towns and villages all over the world, and nothing tasted as good as Tex-Mex, in Texas, on a warm and sunny winter afternoon.
He’d managed to beg off the business lunch with Jones too, which added to his enjoyment of the day. Not only had he thwarted Boone’s plans for him—always a positive—he’d also avoided having to spend at least another hour with Gillian’s banker over German food. Exceptional German food, admittedly, but the quality of the cuisine couldn’t overcome the sour taste that being in Jeremy’s company put in Tucker’s mouth.
He didn’t like his male model handsomeness or his charming, confident manner or the fact that he wore Italian loafers and French sunglasses and drove a German car. He especially didn’t like the fact that ol’ Jeremy would get to have breakfast with Gillian every day for the rest of his life.
So after listening to the banker’s spiel while he and his cousins signed papers for almost an hour, Tucker had had his fill of the man long before Jeremy suggested they walk on over to Otto’s for lunch. He’d prepared an excuse about an expected delivery that required a signature and abandoned his cousins to the wurst in favor of Marktplatz and Miguelitos’ Taco Tuesday.
Damn, but those carnitas had been delicious.
As he sauntered back toward their new building, his thoughts turned to this change of course upon which he’d embarked. During the weeks he had spent alone and exploring Enchanted Canyon, he’d come to terms with the loss of his career, and he’d dealt with his disillusionment in his dreams and ideals. Bottom line—he’d been an excellent warrior. A bureaucrat, not so much. A politician, not worth a damned lick. His army career going forward would have required that from him. He’d had no choice but to make the change.
He’d quit, but he wasn’t a quitter. He didn’t need to rag on himself about that. His time in Enchanted Canyon had helped him to accept that the job, the mission, had evolved over time. Recognizing his limitations and acting on them wasn’t quitting if, bottom line, the army and his country were better off with another man in the position. Tucker could hold his head up knowing he’d made the right choice. He’d done the right thing.
And now, change, here I come.
So what kind of teacher would he make? That was the question before him, wasn’t it?
He had a fair amount of experience instructing soldiers. He spoke with authority, and people listened to him. People who attended his classes would be there to learn, having paid a significant fee for the opportunity. The kids would be the wild card, but based on his afternoons with Haley, he thought he’d be good with them.
He strode back toward the shop in no real hurry since he figured Boone and Jackson would be at the very least another half an hour. No sense tackling the work all by himself when he had cousins to help. Besides, unloading boxes was the perfect time to chew Boone’s ass about some of the inventory choices he’d made.
Since he wasn’t in a hurry, Tucker detoured to the ice cream store for a mint chocolate chip. “Cone or cup?” asked the matronly woman behind the counter with a smile.
“Cone, please.”
He’d also decided the time had come for him to put away the reserved, unfriendly attitude he’d adopted over the past decade or so. It worked okay for a recluse hiding away in the Hill Country, but as of today, he was officially out of the canyon. He needed to dust off his charming and put on his friendly. So while the server finished fitting the ice cream into the cone, he pulled out a rusty, flirtatious wink and rascal grin. “Pretty skin like yours makes me think of peaches ’n cream. Why don’t you add a dip of that flavor too? I’m in the mood to splurge.”
“Go on with you now,” she said with a laugh, her cheeks coloring prettily. “That line may work on the young’uns, but I have your number.”
Yet, when she handed over his cone, Tucker couldn’t help but note that the second scoop was bigger than the first. Catch more flies with honey …
Stepping out onto the street, he turned toward the mercantile building, his stride long, and his thoughts on the afternoon ahead. With three sets of hands, they should be able to knock out most of the unpacking. Maybe he’d let Boone and Jackson stock the shelves while he set up his office on the second floor. It was a great space with lots of windows, which he liked. He could do most of what needed doing for the business side of the wilderness school on his laptop and phone, but if he had to be stuck indoors in an office, he’d be glad to have windows. The windowless cubicles of his special assignment time had drained his soul.
Tucker took a lick of his cone and added his office’s proximity to the ice cream parlor to the list of things that made him happy. He liked ice cream even better than Tex-Mex.
When his gaze snagged on the swaying hips of the woman in front of him, he admitted he liked eye candy best of all.
Gillian Thacker had just exited Bliss Bridal Salon and turned to walk away from him. It gave him the perfect opportunity to ogle her ass without getting caught.
She had the sultry sexiness of a WWII pinup girl, tall and curvy with an unconscious way of walking—a hippy, come-hither sway—that absolutely did it for him. Today, she wore her long mahogany hair loose. The wavy curls bounced to and fro with her every step in a way that called to a man saying, “Touch me. Touch me.”
A glance around showed he wasn’t the only man watching her walk either. Of the six guys within line of sight of Gillian, four of them had their eyes peeled. She shouldn’t be allowed out in public.
Tucker wondered if Jones realized just how lucky he was. The banker talked plenty this morning, but his only mention of Gillian had been as an aside while yammering on about golf. Somehow, Tucker and Jackson had gotten roped into playing a round with the bridegroom-to-be next weekend. Never mind that Tucker hadn’t played golf once since leaving DC. He’d have to find time before Saturday to visit the driving range. It was bad enough that Tucker had to surrender the field where Gillian was concerned. It absolutely would not do for good ol’ Jeremy to kick his butt on the golf course too.
Tucker was jealous of the man. He could admit it. Jeremy had what Tucker wanted.
Gillian ticked off a number of Tucker’s boxes. He liked her spunk, her style, her honesty, and her humor. And of course, there was that physical appeal—the supermodel body, smoky voice, and sexy smile. And the walk. That luscious, provocative, glorious walk that could lure a man into trouble.
The walk that twenty yards in front of him abruptly stopped.
Gillian’s purse slipped out of her hand and thudded onto the courtyard’s winter-dead grass. She stood frozen like a new tub of peaches ’n cream fresh from the freezer. Then she began to weave.
Damn. Hope there’s nothing wrong with her. Tucker picked up his pace, and in a dozen strides, he’d caught up to her. “Gillian, you okay?”
Her head whipped around. Her big blue eyes looked a little wild. “Tucker?”
“Can I help you, honey?” He took her elbow in support. “Are you ill? You look pale. Did you catch Jeremy’s flu?”
“No. I’m not ill. Well, maybe I am. Maybe I’m hallucinating. This can’t be right. There must be a mistake.”
“What can’t be right?” Tucker frowned and followed the path of her gaze. She was focused on his flags, so he gave them a quick study. US, Texas, and Boone’s slogan. “You have something against our slogan?”
“Your slogan,” she repeated. Her eyes widened, and then narrowed. “Your slogan?”
Tucker nodded. “Boone thought the school needed a slogan. Get grubby is a little saying Haley and I use when we’re doing our wilderness thing.”
“The school.” She blinked and gave her head a shake. “What school? I don’t understand. Caroline mentioned something about you becoming a teacher. I thought you’d be at Redemption High.”
“Me? Teach at a high school?” Tucker scoffed. “I might have spent more than a decade in the military, but I’m not near brave enough to teach at a high school. No, we’re opening a wilderness school.”
“A wilderness school,” Gillian repeated. “For like, preppers? Survivalists? People who eat bugs and grubs and grasshoppers?”
Tucker rolled his eyes. “We are going to teach wilderness skills and preparedness to people who are interested in the outdoors. Preppers is a pejorative term. I don’t use it, and before you climb too high on your horse, maybe you should ask the people in Houston if they were glad they had basic supplies on hand after Harvey hit, or even the people of Austin who owned five-dollar water purification filters last summer when the city told them to boil water for two weeks.”
“Okay. Okay. You’re right. That’s snotty of me. So, the slogan for your school is: Get Grubby?”
“Yes.”
“All right, then.” She dragged a hand down her face, then asked, “Tucker, why is your slogan on a flag that is flying from my building?”
“Your building?” He turned his head and looked toward Bliss. He didn’t see any flags flying from the salon’s canopy. That left the McBride family’s latest purchase. “You mean the mercantile building?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Gillian, the mercantile is our mercantile—the McBride family’s. We bought it earlier this week. Wrapped up all the paperwork this morning.”
“No.” She let out a soft little moan. “Why? You own an entire canyon. And an inn and a dance hall and a ghost town. Why did you buy my building?”
Tucker was a little confused himself. He didn’t think she’d owned the building. The former owner’s name was Ayers if he recalled correctly. “Because Boone decided that Enchanted Canyon Wilderness School needed a presence in town, so we’re now your new neighbor.”
Tucker found the fact that she looked so appalled about it more than a little insulting. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and observed, “Kind of appropriate, don’t you think? A survival school across from a bridal salon? Heaven knows surviving marriage takes skills. Maybe we could do a cross-promotion sometime.”
“A cross-promotion?” Color flooded back into her cheeks, and the pitch of her voice rose as she repeated, “A cross-promotion?”
Innocently, he asked, “What? You don’t think that’s a good idea?”
“I … I…” She held her head in her hands and accused, “You stole our building!”
“Stole?” Now, that didn’t sit well. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a thief. He arched a brow, looked pointedly at his new purchase, then back at her. “Sweetcheeks, Enchanted Canyon Enterprises paid a pretty penny for this place.”
“Sweetcheeks? Did you just call me sweetcheeks?”
Tucker wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke pouring from her ears. Okay, so that word had been politically incorrect, but Gillian brought out the—what was that term they use these days? Masculine something. No, toxic masculinity. That’s it. Gillian Thacker sent Tucker’s testosterone off the charts. And that walk …
“Call ’em as I see ’em,” he murmured, before raising his tone and asking, “What am I missing here? Why are your panties in such a twist over the fact that we are neighbors?”
“Do not talk about my panties, you misogynistic jerk!”
“I am not misogynistic. I happen to love and respect women. I might be a little behind the times when it comes to my metaphors, but you can deal with it. And tell me why you’re so upset that we’re opening our school in the mercantile building.”
“Because.” She closed her eyes and gave her head a shake. In that instant, the temper in her tone drained away, leaving only woebegone in the words she spoke next. “Because the expansion is our plan. It’s our big dream.”
Tucker felt a shimmer of unease. Gillian was a partner with her mother in the wedding gown shop. Barbara Thacker and her sister, Cathy, had spent a weekend at the Fallen Angel Inn not long ago, and he’d guided them on a hike through the canyon. Tucker liked Gillian’s mother very much. He would hate it if he’d inadvertently trampled on her big dream by going along with Boone’s big idea.
Gillian’s next words doused the guilt flickering to life inside him. “We talked about it on New Year’s Eve. Blissful Events is the wedding and event planning business he and I are starting.”
Oh, yeah. The one that’s all your baby.
“The mercantile building is the perfect location for it. We’re just waiting until after the wedding to make an offer. The building has been for sale forever. Literally years. I never dreamed someone else would buy it out from under our feet.” She paused and shook her head. “The listing agent knew our plans. He plays golf with Jeremy every Saturday morning. Why didn’t he tell us you were interested? We would have made a counteroffer.”
Since this big dream wasn’t Gillian’s and Barbara’s, but hers and Banker Boy’s, Tucker had to wonder. All the talking Jeremy had done during their meeting this morning, one would think he would have mentioned the death of his big dream. He hadn’t.
Jeremy had known about the sale ahead of time too. The McBrides hadn’t financed the purchase through his bank, but the bank had handled paperwork for the seller. So why keep the news from his beloved fiancée? Not your circus, not your monkey, McBride.
Tucker shrugged. “Well, the sale has closed. That ship has sailed. I guess all is fair in love and real estate.”
She shot him an annoyed look. “Bad metaphorical speaking.”
He smiled and took another lick of his ice cream cone and waited, watching her, as she spent close to a minute in contemplative thought before nodding briskly. “You’re right. We made a mistake by waiting to secure the property once we decided on it. The challenge now is to make the best of the current situation. I’m prepared to discuss lease arrangements immediately. Would you care to join me for lunch?”
Having worked his way down to the ice cream cone, Tucker took a bite. The woman didn’t waste any time, did she? Knock her down, she gets right back up. Another check of one of his boxes. He’d always thought perseverance was sexy.
“Thanks for the invitation, Gillian, but I’ve already had my lunch. Taco Tuesday, you know.” He hefted his cone. “This is dessert.”
“That’s fine.” She glanced toward Marktplatz. “My lunch can wait. I’m honestly not that hungry. Why don’t we talk in the building? I’ll show you what we plan to do with the space.”
“I’m happy to have your company, Gillian, but I think you’ve misunderstood. We’re not seeking tenants. It’s going to be my storefront.”
“But—”
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
He pulled his keys from his pocket as he led her toward the store. He unlocked the door, opened it, then stepped back so that she could precede him. Gillian walked into the room still piled high with boxes and made a slow circle, taking it all in. She turned a stricken gaze toward him. “You’ve put up shelving already.”
“Apparently the former owner recently did some sprucing up, painted the walls, refinished the floors, and replaced all the bathroom fixtures.”
“In October. Mrs. Ayers told me to consider it my wedding gift. She died right before Thanksgiving. Doesn’t it take time for an inheritance to get settled? How could Johnny sell the building so fast?” Hope entered her eyes. “Maybe the sale wasn’t legal. You might have caught a break if that’s the case, Tucker. You’ll do better at the other end of Main Street. This isn’t a good location for foot traffic. It’s the slow end of the street. Tourists don’t come down this far except on the weekends when Marktplatz is open.”
Tucker didn’t believe there was anything wrong with the paperwork. “What is it you wanted to do with this space?”
“I plan to create a wedding district, encompassing the entire U around the courtyard. A bakery. Photography studio. Invitation design and paper shop. A jeweler. Lingerie store. I plan to use the courtyard for vendor showcases. Maisy might move her flower shop once her lease is up or else open a small space that focuses only on wedding floral.”
Tucker gazed out of the display window that faced the courtyard and focused on the Cinderella bride display in the window facing his. He could picture what she was describing. The idea made a lot of sense too.
“So.” Gillian licked her lips and squared her shoulders. “You see, Tucker, while I appreciate your unusual expertise, Get Grubby just doesn’t fit. What has been unpacked can be repacked. I’m sure we can find you a location for your storefront much more suitable to your needs.”
“This location is perfect for us. It’s gonna be more than a retail storefront. We plan to go beyond selling hand axes and knives. We’re turning the upstairs into a classroom.”
“Weapons? You’re going to sell weapons?”
Tucker rolled his eyes. “Tools and teaching. This building is a great spot for us. There’s plenty of parking. The courtyard gives us a place for some outdoor demonstrations.”
“Outdoor demonstrations? What kind of outdoor demonstrations?”
“What kind do you think?” he asked, exasperated by the appalled expression on her face. “I’m going to string up a dead deer and teach my students to dress it. We’ll have your dresses on your side of the courtyard and my kind of dressing on mine.”
The woman actually went pale, and he hastened to say, “I’m kidding, Gillian. I’m talking about fire starting. It’s—”
“You can’t start a fire in the courtyard! These buildings are all made of wood! I’m sure that’s against zoning regulations.”
“It’s not. We checked.”
“Well, I’ll go to the town council and have some passed.”
“I don’t think it works that way. Look, we’re not fools. Our main purpose is to teach skills, the number one of which is safety. We’re not going to set your little shop on fire.”
Insult flared in her eyes, and she sucked in a breath. “My little shop? My little shop!”
“My unusual expertise,” he countered. Damn, but the woman got under his skin in more ways than one. Didn’t he deserve a little respect?
After all, hadn’t he played knight in shining armor and rescued her from a bad situation last fall? Hadn’t he kept his mouth shut when it became apparent that she didn’t want news of their meeting to go public? Hadn’t he stayed by her side when Jeremy deserted her at midnight on New Year’s Eve?
Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her again, but he was only human. A male human. And she attracted him like a buck to a mineral lick.
“What’s your price?” she asked abruptly.
“Excuse me?”
“Every person has a price. What’s yours? I want this property. What will it take for me to get it?”
A dozen different thoughts flashed through his mind. A dozen different suggestions hovered on his tongue. None of them were appropriate. He cleared his throat. “Gillian, I don’t think it’s—”
“Think!” she interrupted. “That’s the word that needs to concern you before you say anything. Now, while you’re doing that, why don’t you show me what you’ve done upstairs?”
Without waiting for his response, she headed for the staircase. Tucker started after her, only not too fast. He wasn’t stupid. Watching her climb stairs was a bigger treat than his double-dip cone, and enjoying it somewhat soothed his ruffled feathers.
Beyond placing the furniture for his office, they’d done little more than haul a handful of boxes upstairs since the tables ordered for the classroom had yet to arrive. Gillian went straight to the spacious corner room that would serve as Tucker’s office. “I love the light in here,” she murmured when he joined her. “Four windows. East and north facing, so it doesn’t fight the western sun.” She glanced up. “I’d thought to raise the ceiling. The lines of the attic are fabulous.”
Distracted by the idea, Tucker considered it. “I’m partial to high ceilings myself.”
She pinned him with a keen-eyed gaze. “But you live in an Airstream trailer.”
“Technically, yes. I prefer to sleep under the stars. For the most part, that’s what I’ve been doing in the canyon.”
“It’s the middle of winter.”
He shrugged. “You can usually find a protected spot in Enchanted Canyon. So, what exactly were you going to do with all this space?”
The gleam of hope that entered her eyes made Tucker regret his question the moment he asked it. She launched into a detailed description beginning with his office, expanding to her plans for subdividing the classroom space, and then creating a client conference room and showroom downstairs. “It’ll be like a home builder’s design center. I’ll have the ground floor divided up into areas showcasing the basic vendor categories—photography, music, catering, linens, etcetera. For example, I’ll have sizable samples of linens displayed similarly to the way upscale furniture stores display upholstery selections. But the centerpiece of the space will be—wait.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Come downstairs. It’ll be easier to explain.”
Once again, Gillian headed for the staircase, and Tucker followed along, closer behind her this time. She’d taken four steps down when the sound of male laughter exploded from below. Then Tucker heard good ol’ Jeremy say, “I think you’ll be very successful here, Boone. I’m delighted I could help y’all get this building.”
Gillian missed a step and tripped. Ever the hero, Tucker reached out and broke her fall. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do anything about the shattering of her heart.