Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Tate

The winter sun shone bright as Mouse and I waited on Tennessee’s front porch on Sunday morning. My wrist still throbbed, but my step was light and my heart hopeful. Having Tennessee around again gave me a new purpose.

“Good morning!” I chirped as Tennessee swung open the door. He wore flannel pants and an inside-out T-shirt, and his long hair flowed around his shoulders. Oops. I might have forgotten that not everyone was used to working my crazy hours. I was blessed with being able to be alert on night, day, or swing shifts, but Tennessee had rather clearly been sleeping in and still looked groggy.

“Uh.” He rubbed his fuzzy beard. Adult Tennessee had this whole hippy Jesus look going on that I surprisingly dug. “Good morning to you.”

“Donut?” I handed him the white bakery box from House of Donuts downtown.

“Um. Sure.” He awkwardly accepted my offering with his left hand and set the box on the nearby entryway table. “You came over at eight on a Sunday to bring me donuts?”

He sounded more than a little confused. Probably my fault for not making my intentions to see him again today clearer, but I’d been riding a high of good tacos and great conversation. We’d had so much to talk about, from my EMT work to his law school and clerkship experiences. Leaving after dinner had been hard, but eventually, I’d run out of excuses to stay. I had, however, promptly dreamed up my plan for this morning on the drive home. And more accurately, I hadn’t told Tennessee because I didn’t want him to put me off. Grownup Tennessee was as polite and unlikely to ask for help as kid Tennessee had been.

“No, I came over to ensure Clifford had a fresh can of food.” I smiled encouragingly as I, Mouse, and my big bag made our way into the apartment. I’d offered to open a can for the cat’s breakfast and leave it in the fridge, but conveniently, Tennessee had said Clifford was unlikely to eat it cold and pre-opened. “You said he was finicky.”

“I did.” Fishing a hair tie out of his pocket, Tennessee smoothed his rumpled hair into something of a presentable ponytail. Darn. I’d been having fun imagining that hair falling all over my skin. Tennessee, all prim and proper, didn’t serve my purposes nearly so well. “Thank you for thinking of Clifford.”

Said cat was lounging on the couch, soaking up the sun, and hardly looked in danger of starving. He had to be a good fifteen pounds, at least, and definitely weighed more than Mouse, who gave the air a delicate and haughty sniff. Tennessee moved the donut box to the dining room table, so I followed him, dragging a reluctant Mouse along. For a dog, she could be as stubborn as a mule and definitely as stubborn and reluctant to follow orders as most cats.

“Of course.” I undid Mouse’s leash so she could go hide under the couch. She’d spent most of the night before there, no more interested in the cat than in making friends with Tennessee. Unlike me. I had plans. “And the donuts are a bribe.”

“A bribe?” Eyes going narrow, Tennessee pursed his lips.

“You sound like you need coffee.” I reached into the bag of groceries to remove the thermos of French press brew I’d packed. “Luckily, I brought some of that as well.”

“Thank you.” He fetched two cups and two small plates from the kitchen and set them on the table. “Explain the bribe.”

“You said I could use your oven,” I said airily as I poured each of us a cup of coffee. My mom liked to say I was a human bulldozer when it came to getting my way. She wasn’t wrong, but in this case, my forwardness was motivated by the weird certainty I’d had since I laid eyes on Tennessee yesterday. We were supposed to be best friends again. Maybe more. Was like at second sight a thing? I hoped so. Tennessee nodded before sipping his coffee carefully, so I continued, “And tomorrow and Tuesday, I’m scheduled for light-duty shifts, so I was hoping that after I feed Clifford, I could whip up two batches of my famous brownies. One for us and one for the family I was telling you about down the street.”

“Are your famous brownies the same rocky road variety you invented at eleven?”

“Sort of.” I grinned because the Tennessee I knew was a total chocaholic. No way could he resist me. “Those first batches started with a mix and my mom’s pantry.” I unpacked my bag onto his table, revealing high-quality dark chocolate, local nuts, gourmet marshmallows, and other key ingredients. “The ones I make these days are a from-scratch evolution of that general idea.”

“I’m in.” He nodded—exactly as I’d hoped—before drinking more coffee. “I remember being impressed your mom let you experiment with food. And the results were pretty good.”

“I’ve only gotten better with age.” I winked, loving how Tennessee turned four shades of purple before busying himself with selecting a chocolate-maple donut. “And my mom wasn’t about to let any of her kids out of the house without basic cooking skills. You should have seen her when she heard my apartment stove only has two burners.”

“The horror.” Tennessee managed to sound a lot like my mom, who’d never met a stranger she didn’t want to feed.

“I know.” Chuckling, I glanced toward Tennessee’s spacious kitchen. “But I work so many hours that paying for more than a studio doesn’t make sense. Mouse came along more recently, though, and that’s been an adjustment, having a dog in studio living.”

“Mouse might like a yard.” Tennessee nodded thoughtfully before pointing at the door in the rear of the kitchen. “Mine is shared with the upstairs tenants, but it’s fenced if Mouse needs to go out while we bake.”

“Perfect.” I loved how Tennessee had effortlessly included himself in my brownie plans. “Do you take Clifford into the yard?”

“Only on his harness.” Tennessee blushed and took another big bite of donut. “Someday, I want to build him a cat patio.”

“A catio? I love that idea.” A shiver raced up my back as I helped myself to a strawberry-sprinkle donut. I swore I could see an older ranch home with a deck out back with one of those cat enclosures and Tennessee in the kitchen with me. I wasn’t sure whether it was a glimpse of the future, though, or a particularly vivid memory. “Remember when we used to dream about remodeling the house next to my folks?”

The old owners had moved out the summer between our fifth- and sixth-grade years, a hot, sticky summer that had stretched on and on. We’d had numerous adventures on the vacant property until flippers bought the place. Spying on the remodel turned out to be way more interesting than climbing the back cherry trees.

“We were going to be roommates.” Tennessee’s nervous laugh was adorably close to a giggle.

“We were funny.” I laughed along with him. “Maybe our willingness to live and work together should have been a clue we weren’t straight?”

“Probably.” Tennessee blushed again and studied his remaining half-donut like it was a textbook. “How did your parents take it when you came out?”

“Ha.” I loved this memory, so I smiled broadly. “I didn’t so much as come out as announce I was taking a dude to prom and ask to borrow Dad’s Charger.”

“Balls.”

“Yep. Didn’t earn the car and got a really embarrassing safe-sex lecture, but that was that.” I shrugged and downed the last of my coffee. “Mom bugs me monthly about settling down with the right person, but that’s moms for you.”

“Yeah.” Tennessee’s voice went faint and distant. Oh right. Not everyone had a mom to nag them and love them and bake them casseroles and all that.

“Sorry.” I set aside my donut. “I forgot?—”

“Don’t apologize.” He held up a hand. “I’m glad families like yours exist. And my foster mom, Barbara, is amazing. She and her husband fought to adopt me, and we talk on the phone all the time.”

“That’s awesome. Are they sad you moved back here to Mount Hope?”

“I don’t think so. Their family moved south of Portland a few years ago when my foster dad’s company relocated him. I’ll be able to visit often.” Tennessee’s voice was stronger now, more thoughtful. “And Barbara says the move is good for me. Something about coming full circle.”

“I like that.” I peered deeply into his pale-blue eyes. Why hadn’t I ever noticed how hypnotizing they were? And I did love the idea of us also coming full circle. We’d started here, and after Tennessee up and disappeared, we’d had unfinished business. Now, as adults, the nature of that business had shifted. We’d been TNT once before, and it felt gravely necessary to find out if we could be explosive together. If our potential was as great as I was coming to suspect.

The moment dragged on, and I stepped closer to Tennessee. Cautiously, I touched his shoulder, outlining the exposed seam with my left thumb.

“Get dressed in a hurry?” I asked in a husky whisper, liking the idea of him sleeping shirtless.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah,” Tennessee stammered. “I should put some real clothes on.”

“Need help?” I waggled my eyebrows, delighting in the choking sound that escaped Tennessee’s throat. “I meant because of your cast, but you’re fun to shock.”

“Glad to amuse you.” He beat a hasty retreat to the dining room entrance. “Be right back.”

I left him have his escape. I could have followed, and he likely wouldn’t have pushed me away had I made a pass, but even I had limits. I’d let Tennessee warm up to the idea of us as more than friends and happily enjoy his company and the delicious anticipation in the meantime. He emerged in jeans and a U of O law school T-shirt, and after a brief stint in the yard for Mouse, we started the brownie recipe.

“So, what’s the plan for CUPID?” I asked as I measured cocoa powder, careful to avoid sprinkling my cast and not even trying to hide my fishing expedition about his personal life. “Gonna get back on the app?”

“I am one hundred percent done with app dating. Never again.” Tennessee was super cute when he got all dramatic.

“Good to know.” I nodded sagely. “I had a similar revelation last year, much to my mom’s dismay. No more apps.”

“Better single than another bad match.” Tennessee walked right into the trap I was laying. Now, all I had to do was show him that we would be the furthest thing from a bad match.

“Word.” I grinned at him as I incorporated the cocoa into the sugar and butter mixture. “But that means you’re free on Wednesday night.”

“I am,” Tennessee said slowly, eyes narrowing.

“Good.” I wasn’t about to be deterred by his skepticism. “Wanna have a Pal-entine’s Day outing?”

“Like what?”

“Geez. So suspicious.” I waved the wooden spoon I’d been stirring with at him. “Pal-entine. Two pals who’d rather not be alone on the day of hearts and roses. I’m off at three-thirty that day, but I assume you work until five?”

“Yeah.” His tongue darted out to lick his lower lip. Predictably, heat gathered low in my stomach. Lord, I had it bad already.

“Good. I’ll pick you up at six. Dress warmly.” I chortled happily to myself. Let my plan to show Tennessee I could be his perfect Valentine begin.