Chapter 14

14

T ucker climbed behind the wheel of the truck he had been working on. Reagan had taken him to the garage that morning, where the owner had agreed to lend him the tools he needed. They had talked about the truck’s repair needs for a few minutes, and then Reagan had returned him to the inn, where he’d been working ever since.

Inserting the key, he turned it and heard the truck trying to start. He tried again, and the engine turned over this time. Relief swept through him as he backed it out of the barn. He decided to take it for a spin. Leaving it running, he quickly gathered the borrowed tools and placed them in a bag, setting it on the front seat.

First, he drove into Lost Creek, dropping the bag with one of the mechanics, thanking him for the loan. Then he cruised out of town and along the road for half an hour, making certain the truck was running properly at various speeds. It gave him a chance to see some of the surrounding area and drink in its beauty. He decided before the weather turned too cold, he would ask Reagan if she might like to go on a picnic with him.

Ever since he had met her, the melodies locked within him seemed to be freeing themselves. He’d left his phone on record the entire time he worked on the truck’s engine, humming different melodies that came to him. Tomorrow, he’d listen again to the recording and start putting pencil to paper in order to capture these tunes. What he needed, though, was a new guitar. He’d sold his before he hit the road, and now he was sorely in need of one.

He felt he was on the verge of a creative explosion. If he could get half a dozen songs written, with lyrics put to the melodies, he would consider giving Matt a call. Tucker hadn’t spoken to Josie’s brother since her death. It wasn’t for lack of trying on Matt’s part. His brother-in-law had left voicemails and periodically texted Tucker over the past two years. The breakdown had been on Tucker’s end. He knew Matt was hurting as he was, but Tucker had crawled inside his pain and avoided contact with anyone who’d reached out to him. Maybe if Matt and he could make some new music together, it would help ease their sorrow and bring them close again.

He returned to The Inn at Lost Creek and parked in front of the B&B. Going inside, he ran into Miss Jean.

“I apologize for being a filthy mess, Miss Jean, but I have the truck running. I took it out for a ride, and everything seems to be in good working order. I’ll still take it in to be inspected and see if there’s anything I missed that needs to be done.”

The innkeeper smiled at him. “I knew you’d be able to fix it, Tucker. I had so much faith in you that I even looked online to see how to transfer the title to you. I’ll make sure my lawyer, Merilee Swan, gets you the release of lien. All you’ll do then is take the signed title and an application you can download to the local county tax office. Show everything to them, and all it’ll cost you will be the required fees and taxes. I’ll even go with you to make certain everything is handled smoothly.”

“I appreciate that, Miss Jean. I’m happy to pay whatever is owed, but you need to let me give you something for the truck. It might be old, but it’s in good condition.”

“Nonsense, Tucker. I won’t hear of it. I love what I’m driving now. That truck was just sitting in the barn, taking up space. You’re in need of transportation. The truck is your reward for getting it running again and out of my hair.”

“You’re very generous. Thank you so much. I need to go and get cleaned up now. You haven’t happened to see Reagan, have you?”

“You just missed her. She finished reading Holden’s book and then left for Lost Creek Vineyards. She told me Harper wanted her there three hours before the ceremony began. I guess there’s a lot of fuss to getting married nowadays.”

“I better shower and head over to the venue myself. Ry asked me to be there two hours before the ceremony started.”

“Are you going to be working with your cousin doing catering?” she asked.

“That’s the plan. I’m hoping I can work out the details with Ry tonight.”

In the shower, Tucker began humming another melody, relieved that the dam had finally broken and that his creativity had returned. And not just the creativity. The desire to write songs again. Songwriting had been the last thing he would’ve touched these past two years. Returning to Texas and Lost Creek, though, had made a huge difference.

In part, he knew it was due to meeting Reagan and having her in his life. Josie had always been a muse to him. Without her, Tucker felt his talent dry up. Now, though, he was finally able to think of his wife without all the bitterness and a heavy burden of grief pressing against him, suffocating him. He was trying his best to take Reagan’s advice and remember the good in his relationship with Josie.

He only hoped he might have a second chance at life.

And love. With Reagan Bradley.

Maybe it was foolish, thinking about something like that. He’d only met Reagan, but there was something about her that spoke to his soul. It could be that they had undergone a similar experience, losing a loved one by tragedy. But they had more than that in common. For the first time in a long time, Tucker could feel himself coming alive. It was if he had been frozen in time after Josie’s death and lived through a long, cruel winter in hibernation, numb to everything. Spring had finally come, melting the ice he’d been encased in. He wondered if Reagan was experiencing anything remotely similar.

He dressed in a clean shirt and pair of jeans and left for the venue, parking behind the event center when he arrived. Tucker passed the smoker, smelling the rich aroma coming from it, and entered the back door.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he saw Emerson rolling a cake.

“Here, I’ll get that for you,” he told her.

Stepping up to the cake cart, Tucker gazed at it in wonder. “This is what you do?” he asked. “In my mind, I just saw a round, white cake with Best Wishes in script and a couple’s name scrawled atop it.”

He gazed at the five tiers, looking up and down, seeing the intricate flowers and design within the icing itself. “It’s a damn work of art, Emerson.”

“Thank you, Tucker,” she said, looking pleased. “I really feel as if I’m coming into my own as a cake baker. I have such fun meeting with the engaged couples and designing their cakes. Here, let me show you where this goes.”

He followed her, rolling the cake along, to a designated area for the cake cutting during the reception. A chocolate groom’s cake was already in place.

“I see this groom is a baseball nut by the looks of this cake. And a Texas Rangers’ fan.”

“Grooms get pushed to the side a lot of times during wedding planning,” Emerson said. “Their cake is the one time they get all the attention and can shine. I try to incorporate not only the flavors they enjoy but any hobby or interest they might have.”

Harper and Reagan joined them, with Harper saying, “You should have seen last week’s cake, Tucker. The groom was a spelunker, and Em created magic. His cake looked like a cave, with stalactites hanging from the ceiling of it and pools of water within it. It was the most remarkable thing I’ve ever seen.”

Emerson blushed, and Tucker thought just how lucky his cousin was to have her as his wife.

“How are you ladies coming along?” he asked, seeing Reagan was dressed in a white blouse and slim black pants which looked good on her. Really good. Her hair was swept away from her face, in a knot at her nape. All he wanted to do was spin her around and brush his lips against the soft skin of that nape.

“Harper has already showed me so much,” Reagan enthused. “The bridal party has arrived, and we’ve got them on schedule. The ladies are their having hair and makeup done. The guys are watching a football game, drinking beer and eating some snacks.”

“Reagan really knows how to pay attention to detail,” Harper said. “In fact, she’s already made a few suggestions to me that I intend to implement. We were just checking in here to see how things were progressing. We’ll see you later.”

“I need to check with Ry in the kitchen,” Emerson said as the two women left.

When they returned, Ry was at the stovetop, where eight gas burners were, stirring a huge pot of beans.

“Glad you could make it, Tuck,” Ry said. “I’m not going to ask you to do a lot tonight. Just watch what Emerson and I do and if you can join in and help, that’s fine.”

Ry took him through the kitchen, showing Tucker various things, including the walk-in fridge where huge bowls of potato salad and coleslaw for tonight’s guests were stored.

“Emerson’s got several dishes of macaroni and cheese which she’ll put on to bake soon. This bride said all she really needed as a side was mac and cheese, but we talked her into adding a few other things.”

“What’s on tonight’s menu?’ he inquired.

“We’re going with a combo plate,” Ry explained. “Some brides like to offer guests a choice, but this one wanted some of each entrée to be served. The first is galbi, which features fall-off-the-bone beef short ribs smothered in a sauce that’s a mix of both sweet and savory. The other is a spicy marinated pork butt.”

“How many guests are coming this evening?”

“Close to two hundred, counting the wedding party,” Ry responded. “We’ve done weddings as small as twenty guests and some more than ten times that. Harper really has a steady business going. Smokin’ Sweethearts caters about eighty percent of the receptions.”

“I heard Uncle Shy had turned the catering arm over to you, so it’s not actually Blackwood BBQ that does the catering. I saw the Smokin’ Sweethearts name on the food truck. Is that the name of your business?”

“Yup. I’m on my own. The food truck is solely my operation, as is catering events for Weddings with Hart.” Ry paused, rubbing his chin in thought. “I never wanted to compete with Dad. We had a bit of a falling out over dishes I wanted to serve that weren’t traditional menu items for Blackwood BBQ. We were only able to patch things up thanks to Emerson. Dad gave me the go-ahead to do my own thing. Blackwood BBQ in town is enough for him.”

“I hear you’re going to Austin for Holden’s movie premiere.”

Ry squeezed more honey into the beans, stirring and tasting them. “We are. Thank goodness, it’s a rare Saturday night I don’t have a booking here. The local steakhouse is taking care of catering dinner that night. Of course, Emerson will already have the cakes baked and decorated. Harper will manage the displays for her.”

“Reagan and I have been invited to attend the premiere, too.”

“That’s great. Holden is a terrific guy. He’s really fit into Lost Creek well. You’ll enjoy meeting the people who put the film together. Wolf Ramirez directed Capitol Crimes for one of the big studios, but he was ready to start his own production company and go indie. He liked Holden’s second book and had enjoyed working with him before, so they agreed for it to be the first film released by WEBA Productions. Ana, Wolf’s wife, is the producer of the film. She’s really a sweetheart and keeps Wolf on his toes.”

Dax stuck his head in the kitchen and gave a wave. “Hey. Just thought I’d say hi before I started setting up.”

Tucker looked to his cousin. “I need to talk to Dax about something. Be right back.”

He followed Dax and asked, “I see you have some band equipment here.”

“I DJ weddings here fairly often. Other times, when a bride and groom want live entertainment, my band plays. We’re called the Lone Star Rebels and do a mix of country and rock, with a few ballads thrown in.”

“I used to write songs on the side, apart from my day job at a bank,” Tucker revealed. “Have you ever heard of Another Beer, Dear ?”

Dax broke out in a grin. “I sure have. That was you?”

He nodded and named a couple of other songs he’d written for Matt.

“I write all my own stuff,” Dax shared. “While the band covers a lot of popular songs, every now and then we’ll play one I’ve written. Maybe we could write something together,” he suggested.

“I’ll be honest, Dax. I haven’t written any song for a few years. I lost my wife pretty suddenly, and the desire to write music simply faded away. It’s come back now, though, and I have a crazy thought of trying to make my living that way. What I need, however, is a new guitar. Where can I get one around here?”

“If you’re not performing, I have an old guitar you’re welcome to have. I have two I use when I play here or at Java Junction. Saturday nights, I have a different local artist come in and play at the coffeehouse. I’d be happy to work you into the schedule. We can look at the calendar. That is, if you’re a performer, as well as a songwriter.”

“I used to be. Played little roadhouses here and there, but I haven’t sung for a long time. I wouldn’t mind the loan of a guitar until I can pick up something for myself.”

“I can drop it off to you tomorrow,” Dax assured him.

“Thanks. I really appreciate that.”

Dax introduced him to the band’s drummer, who’d just arrived, and then Tucker returned to the kitchen. He watched closely everything that Ry and Emerson did, helping out when he could, including bringing in the meats which had been smoking outside, allowing them to rest before they were plated.

Reagan appeared in the kitchen. “You can start sending out appetizers in eight minutes.”

“Do you serve the guests?” Tucker asked.

“No. Harper’s assistants take on that job. They also handle cleanup after the meal. With a big wedding like this, Harper hires a couple of locals to help serve and clean.”

Soon, he met Paula and Dayna, the venue’s two assistants, and two others who would be serving guests this evening. He learned that Harper also had bartenders on staff who manned the drink stations. Trays of appetizers started flying out of the kitchen, and Ry and Emerson began retrieving other parts of the meal, getting cold sides from the fridge and removing large pans of macaroni and cheese, which had been kept warming in the ovens.

Ry arranged the meats on each plate, with Emerson coming behind him and placing the macaroni on the plate, as well. The cold sides were placed into small bowls with an ice cream scoop. Dishes were put on trays, and there was a constant flow of people coming in and out of the kitchen as guests were served their dinners, as well as glasses of wine and iced tea. He could hear music playing softly, and Ry told him it was a tape Dax used and that the band would beginning playing live once the guests finished eating.

“Most brides prefer to have dinner over and done and some of the dancing to begin before they take a break and do the cake cutting,” Emerson explained. “They do the father-daughter dance and continue dancing usually thirty to forty-five minutes. Then there’s a break for speeches and cake cutting. At least, that’s how tonight’s reception is rolling out. Each bride customizes the order to her liking.”

After all the plates had gone out, cleanup ensued. Tucker jumped in quickly to help with this. He was no stranger to washing dishes. He had picked up menial jobs during his travels around the country to earn money to get to the next place.

“Our part is over,” Ry told him. “Harper’s crew will handle washing all the dishes, glasses, and silverware after dinner. You said you wanted to talk. Let’s sit.”

They moved to a table on the far side of the kitchen, with Emerson joining them. Tucker knew his cousin wouldn’t make any decision without her input.

“I’ve decided I’m staying in Lost Creek,” he began. “I’m going to need a way to earn a living, though, and I can’t see myself returning to work nine-to-five at a bank. I have a strong desire to pick up songwriting again after being away from it for so long, but that’s going to take a while and sure won’t pay my bills in the meantime. If you have room for me, Ry, I’d be honored to work for you at Smokin’ Sweethearts.”

Ry beamed at him. “I was hoping you’d come to that conclusion. Emerson has pitched in, but that’s taken time away from her own businesses. I could definitely use you onboard, Tuck. I thought we worked well together in the food truck the other day.”

“I’m not the smoke master you are and have a lot to learn about meat, but I’m eager to start.”

“Are you interested in working the food truck lunches Monday through Friday?”

“Definitely. And catering receptions like tonight, too, if you need me then.”

Ry nodded. “Do you have any interest in learning how to prepare food, beyond smoking meats?”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Ry. I just need the work.”

“Let’s get together tomorrow afternoon. I’ll come up with a schedule. Part of it will include tutoring time, teaching you all about smoking. I can also give you some lessons on the sides we prepare and how to put those together.”

“This is going to be a big relief, Tucker,” Emerson inserted. “It’ll free me up. I’m thrilled that you’ve decided to stay in Lost Creek and that you and Ry will be working together. I also hope that you’ll make the time for your songwriting.”

“Ideas are starting to float around in my head. I think working with Ry will still give me time to also work on my music.”

“Ivy gets up early and paints each morning before she goes into the tasting room,” Emerson said. “Maybe you can do some writing before the lunch rush. Or usually, Ry finishes lunch up by two. That would give you some afternoons and evenings to ply your trade.”

His cousin stood. “We’re off.” He offered Tucker his hand, and they shook. “Thanks for wanting to come onboard.”

They arranged a time to meet tomorrow afternoon, which would still give him plenty of time to go to his aunt and uncle’s for Sunday dinner.

Tucker bid the couple goodnight and opened the kitchen door, standing and listening to Dax and his band play. Dax had a smooth, mellow voice, but he also did a nice job on the harder, faster numbers.

A slow ballad began, and suddenly Reagan stood before him.

“Did you have a busy night?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’m going to be working on the food truck and catering events with Ry.”

“I’m so happy for you, Tucker.”

He couldn’t ignore the urge any longer and pulled her into his arms. Slowly, they began swaying together to the music. Everything about the moment felt right. Her warm body pressed against his. The light scent of her vanilla perfume swirling about them. The quickening of his heart.

Tucker gazed into her eyes. “I told you the next time I kissed you, I would really mean it. Are you ready for that, Caramel?”