Tucker asked, “What’s this all about?”
Jackson nodded toward Boone, who said, “It’s an intervention. We get together and gang up on you. The women in Eternity Springs swear by it, so here we are.”
“I’m honored,” Tucker said in an exaggerated drawl.
“You should be. I canceled a date with a long-legged brunette to attend this little soirée.”
Unbidden, an image of Gillian Thacker flashed through Tucker’s mind. “That’s quite the sacrifice. So, this sounds like something I’ll need to endure with a drink. Whiskey, anyone?”
“Definitely.”
“Absolutely.”
Tucker went into the Airstream, and when he emerged a few minutes later carrying three glasses and a bottle of bourbon, he saw that his cousins had set up lawn chairs around the fire pit. Jackson tossed another log onto the fire while Boone talked to River and scratched the contented yellow Lab behind his ears.
Once they all had drinks and had taken a seat, Boone launched the first salvo. “You’re right, Jackson. Mr. Spit-and-Polish has gone to seed. When was the last time you got a haircut? Your mane is almost as long as Ponytail Boy, here.”
Jackson gave his hair a taunting wave toward Boone. “I didn’t say he’d gone to seed. I said he needed a job. His longer hair looks good. Caroline says so.”
“The legal beagle is just jealous of all the jack we’re saving at the barbershop.”
Jackson scoffed. “Boone hasn’t set foot in a barbershop for fifteen years. He goes to”—Jackson lifted his fingers to make air quotes—“the salon at the spa.”
“Hey, if you got a chance to have Penny Watson run her fingers through your hair once a week, you’d go to Angel’s Rest spa yourselves. But I digress. Jackson is right. Tucker, you need a job. You’ve sulked in the canyon long enough.”
“I haven’t been sulking.”
“No? What do you call it?”
Brooding. “Reassessing.”
Jackson snorted, and Boone continued, “Well, whatever you want to call it, it’s time you stopped. We know you better than anyone. If you keep this up much longer, you’re going to wig out on us and do something stupid like join the French Foreign Legion or a knitting club.”
“I would never join the French Foreign Legion, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with knitting clubs.”
“Might be a good way to pick up women,” Jackson added.
Boone ignored them both and pressed on. “Leaving a job is stressful enough, but you left a life, Tucker. It’s natural for you to feel anxious and depressed. Knowing you, you probably feel guilty too.”
Annoyed now, Tucker snapped, “Well, thank you, Dr. Freud.”
“You had good instincts when you made the decision to come here to Enchanted Canyon. You’re in your element here. But, it’s one thing to take a break and heal, and something else entirely when the healing morphs into hiding.”
“I haven’t been hiding,” Tucker protested.
“Bull,” Jackson snapped, his green eyes flashing. “You don’t leave the canyon.”
“I do too. I went to Caroline’s Christmas party just last week. And I went to your place for Thanksgiving.”
“Twice. Big damned deal. You get Angelica to buy your groceries, and everything else you order online and have delivered. You’re becoming a recluse, Tucker.”
Boone tossed a branch on the fire, and as tree sap snapped and crackled and sparks fluttered up into the cold night air, he announced, “You need something to pull you out of your funk. Luckily, we have a plan.”
“You always have a plan,” Tucker groused.
“Not always,” Boone replied in a droll tone. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have ended up in Eternity Springs.”
Tucker momentarily considered attempting to follow the dangling bait by leading the conversation toward Boone’s personal crisis, but he found he was curious about their plan. “Cut to the chase.”
“Okay. We want you to open a survivalist school. Well, more than just a survivalist school. Nothing wrong with preppers, but you need a bigger target market. We think you should teach wilderness skills to adults and children.”
“Seriously?” Tucker almost laughed out loud.
“Seriously,” Jackson replied.
Tucker hid his grin by taking a sip of his drink and savoring the smoky taste of the smooth Kentucky whiskey. To Jackson, he said, “This was your idea?”
“No. Angelica and Celeste cooked it up between themselves.”
Boone leaned forward, an earnest look in his nickel-colored eyes. “I’ve learned that when Celeste speaks, it’s wise to listen. She is a special person with an uncanny way of being around when a person needs help. So, do you want to hear all of our reasons why this is a good move, or can we skip straight to reviewing the business plan? I’ll warn you, I’m determined to talk you into this, so I wouldn’t bother wasting a lot of breath arguing.”
Tucker snorted. One of the perks of this career change of his was that no man alive could make him do something he didn’t want to do—not for long, anyway. However, in this case, arguing wasn’t necessary. He took another sip of his whiskey, then spoke in a casual tone. “Sounds great. I think it might be something I’d enjoy. Want to go inside where we have some light, and you can show me this business plan of yours?”
“Huh.” Jackson scratched his dog behind his ears and met Boone’s gaze. “That was easy.”
“Yeah. Too easy.” Boone narrowed his eyes. “Explain yourself, Tucker.”
He could have done that. Tucker could have told his cousins that the same idea had occurred to him over a week ago, that he had contacts in the industry to whom he had reached out, and that he had the beginnings of a business plan sketched out already. But Boone looked a little worried and worrying him was fun, so Tucker simply shrugged and said, “I’m a reasonable man. Besides, I already tried the knitting club. Not to ruin the surprise or anything, you might find a handmade pair of socks beneath your Christmas trees.”
Boone snorted. “Right.” Still, he looked a little nervous.
“I need another drink,” Jackson said, rising from his lawn chair. “We killed this bottle.”
The three big men all but filled the Airstream. Boone and Jackson claimed seats at the table. Tucker brought a camp chair in from outside in which to sit. He was able to continue his joke by producing part of one of the Christmas gifts he’d ordered for one of the housekeepers at the Fallen Angel. The look on his cousins’ faces when he showed them a knitting basket complete with needles and yarn was priceless.
Tucker bedded down that evening feeling more upbeat than he had since receiving word about his special assignment to DC. As he drifted toward sleep, he decided he might just be ready to come out of the canyon. He’d consider showing up for the McBride family Christmas gathering in Eternity Springs. That’d make his uncle Parker happy. If that went well, he could give Jackson’s New Year’s Eve show at the dance hall a try. He could flirt a little. Look for a woman to kiss at midnight. Maybe a woman who knew how to knit.
For the first time in a long time, Tucker looked forward to the coming year. He fell asleep smiling, his soul easing toward being at peace.