If Tucker were Gillian’s fiancé, he’d damned sure not let some other guy dance this song with her. It wouldn’t matter if she was with the mayor or a minister or a milkman, Tucker would cut in. Forcefully.
Jeremy was nowhere to be found.
So, Tucker closed his eyes, pulled her a little closer, and indulged himself. Sexy, soft, and sweet, she was heaven in his arms. She was glorious.
The band played the full version, and at some point, Coco joined them in the vocals. It was eight minutes of bliss. Impure bliss. Tucker grew as hard as a bois d’arc fence post, and he valiantly resisted the urge to press himself against her.
For a moment when the final notes of the music faded away, stillness came over the crowd. Tucker lifted his head. The temptation to kiss her was almost overwhelming, but it waned when he stared down into Gillian’s luminous eyes. “What’s this?” He thumbed a tear from her cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. What’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry. That song is just so beautiful and, well…” The crowd broke out in applause, and she stepped away and looked around. “Where is he? I haven’t seen Jeremy since our walk in the garden.”
Hell if I know. Your fiancé should have been here. He should be here now ripping you out of my arms.
On stage, Coco said, “Happy New Year, y’all! I want to thank the band for allowing me to jump in on that last song. It’s one of my favorites.”
The applause turned to cheers. Ever the performer, Coco bowed and blew kisses and accepted accolades for almost a full minute. Then she said, “Are y’all ready to get this party started?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” chanted the crowd.
“That’s good because it’s about that time, I believe. Official timekeeper? Where are we?”
“Thirty-eight seconds until midnight,” Jackson called.
“Woo-hoo!” Coco waved her arm like a cowboy looping a lariat. “Let’s do this thing! Lights! Drum roll.”
Gillian was now glancing around the dance hall anxiously. “It’s so crowded in here. Do you see Jeremy anywhere, Tucker?”
“No.”
Spotlights illuminated the mirrored seventies-style disco ball that Jackson had rigged at the center of the stage for the purpose. Allowed to stay awake and participate in the holiday, Haley manned the rope with her father’s help. The crowd laughed and cheered as they began to slowly lower the sparkling mirrored ball. Gillian paid no attention to the stage. Instead, she threaded her way through the crowd toward a nearby table and empty chair. Tucker followed her. When it became clear she intended to stand on the chair, he muttered a curse and grabbed the chair’s back to hold it steady.
“I can’t believe this,” she said.
“Thirteen. Twelve. Eleven,” counted the crowd.
“He was in a lousy mood, so I figured he was sulking in a corner, that maybe he stayed away to spare me. I never thought he’d do this.”
“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.”
She made one full turn around the chair, looking for her fiancé.
“Six. Five. Four.”
She wobbled. Tucker cursed again and put his hands around her waist and lifted her down to the floor.
“Three. Two. One. Happy New Year!”
The mirror ball hit the stage, and the crowd went wild. Haley ran to her mother for a hug and kiss. At stage left, Jackson gave Caroline a thorough kiss.
Looking dazed and brokenhearted, Gillian blinked back tears. “I can’t believe he ditched me at midnight on New Year’s Eve.”
Screw Jeremy Jones, Tucker said to himself. As the band launched into “Auld Lang Syne” with Coco leading the vocals, he cupped Gillian’s chin and tilted her face up toward his. “His loss is my gain. You can kick his ass later. Happy New Year, Glory.”
Then Tucker bent down and stole a friendly New Year’s kiss.
Friendly. Dammit.
Chapter Six
With “Auld Lang Syne” ringing in her ears and the taste of Tucker McBride on her lips, Gillian was filled with despair. Everything was wrong. They’d gotten engaged last New Year’s Eve. Tonight, he didn’t even bother to be with her at midnight? She needed air, so she turned to leave the crowded building. Vaguely, she sensed Tucker following behind her and just as she was about to push into the bleak winter night, a man called her name. He wasn’t Jeremy. Gillian recognized one of his golfing buddies.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you. Jeremy called me. He said you didn’t answer your phone.”
Gillian’s phone was in her purse and tucked safely away in the dance hall’s office. “Where is he?”
“He said he got sick and left. He asked me to drive you home.”
“Oh.” She immediately felt concerned and contrite. He hadn’t ditched her. He’d gotten sick! “Oh, no. What type of sick, did he say?”
“No. Just that he didn’t want you to catch it.”
Now Gillian felt guilty. She should have gone looking for him long before midnight.
Jeremy’s friend continued, “Want to meet at my car when the party’s over? I’m in my truck. Last row, underneath the lamppost. Can’t miss me.”
Two more hours? Wonder if I could get an Uber this far out?
“I’ll take you,” Tucker offered. “I’m about ready to leave.”
Gillian looked up into his warm brown eyes and realized she wanted to go with him. More than she probably should. “Thank you.”
She was quiet during the twenty-minute drive into Redemption. Sensitive to her mood, Tucker didn’t fill the silence with small talk. She appreciated that. Her focus was on Jeremy and the events of the evening. When she checked her phone, she saw that he’d called around eleven. He’d texted, too. Why had her first reaction been that he’d ditched her? He probably had been feeling unwell all night. That’s why he’d been grouchy at dinner.
And yet, why did she sense there was something more going on here? Why did she wonder if Jeremy was truly ill? And why hadn’t she really missed him until almost midnight? Until the dance with Tucker? This was wrong.
As they approached town, Tucker asked, “Do you want to check on him? I’ll take you by his place.”
“Yes, but he probably won’t want me to stay. I’ll need my car, and it’s at my house.”
Tucker shook his head. “Let me wait and see you home, Gillian. I’ll sleep easier tonight knowing you’re home safe and sound. Redemption might be a small town, but this is still the most dangerous night of the year to be out on the streets.”
Tucker isn’t concerned about Redemption drunk drivers, Gillian thought. He was offering her his silent support in case this was something other than illness like her fiancé had claimed.
Gillian gave him Jeremy’s address and moments later, he pulled his truck to a stop in front of the house. Jeremy’s car was in the drive. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time. I’m happy to wait for you.”
She hurried up the front steps and used her key to let herself inside. “Jeremy?”
He was in his bedroom sitting on the side of his bed, wearing only his boxers. His face was buried in his hands. “Go away, Gillian. You shouldn’t be here. I’m sick. Go home.”