Flirting with the Frenemy (Bro Code #1)(15)

“Right,” Monica murmurs, fanning herself. “Not hot at all.”

That’s right.

He’s not hot at all.

I just have to pretend he is.

It’s only four days. And barely a few little lies.

It’ll all be just fine.





Six





Wyatt



I don’t like leaving Ellie in Shipwreck, but she’s a grown-up, she’s with friends, and one of the guys from the bakery—Cooper? Fuck, I haven’t kept up with the Fireballs this year—came out to chat for a while during the parade, and while I won’t admit it to Ellie, he passed my gut test.

Seems like a decent guy.

So does his brother, Grady, who apologized again for the mix-up and told me I was a lucky guy.

So she has good people looking out for her in a safe small town, and she’ll be okay.

But after I read six bedtime stories with Tucker, promise we’ll go miniature golfing and try to dig up pirate treasure and look for the hidden peg leg that’s supposed to come with a treasure of its own tomorrow, and hug him tight because it’s so damn good to be able to hug him—video chat and phone calls aren’t the same, and now that he’s starting soccer and baseball, there’s less time to talk—I head to the living room to wait for Ellie to get back.

It’s possible she won’t come back tonight.

Cooper wasn’t shy with information, and while Tucker raked in candy, pirate rings, fake gemstones, and more from the floats passing by, I found out Ellie’s in town for her best friend’s wedding. Most of the wedding party is staying at the Shipwreck Inn. Her ex-boyfriend—I thought the Blond Caveman looked familiar—is the best man and brought the woman he dumped her for just before her accident. Ellie’s been in town a lot the last six months—especially while she was recovering at first—and Cooper’s glad Beck sent someone to keep an eye on her while she’s feeling so lost.

That last part is what has me dialing my buddy, even though I think he’s somewhere in Europe on a photo shoot and it’s probably two in the morning at the earliest wherever he is.

Hell, I don’t even know if his cell number works in Europe.

But, because he’s Beck, he answers on the second ring.

“Wyatt, my man, what’s up? How’s the house?” Beck says in my ear.

I glance at the mess in the kitchen, and I shove up to tackle it, because it’s annoying me. “Occupied.”

Beck laughs. “If you’re there, it must be.”

“Ellie’s here.”

There’s silence, and for half a second, I think he’s going to pull the Connection’s breaking up card, but then he simply says, “Huh.”

Not like he’s surprised.

Not like he’s not either.

I stack up plates, cups, mugs—someone likes tea, it seems—silverware and dirty napkins from the dining room and carry them into the kitchen.

I don’t have room to call Beck on any bullshit—it’s my fault his sister was in a car accident that put her in the hospital for a month and still has her limping—but if he wants something from me, he damn well needs to come out and ask before I fuck this up.

Again.

“Ryder…”

“You remember that year we played Trivial Pursuit over Christmas break and you and Ellie ended up having a ranch dressing fight in the snow?”

“She called me a cheater.”

“Bro, you did cheat.”

“I did not.”

“You memorized the cards.”

“There was nothing else to read.”

“Whatever. The point is, think of all the good memories. How about that time she went apeshit because you were using her art projects for target practice?”

“You brought them out and didn’t mention they were—”

“Good times, good times.” He sighs happily. “Man, I wish I could be there with you guys. Wonder if you’d wrestle me over Frogger again like that time—”

“What the fuck are you smoking?”

“Fresh air, man. The best fresh night air Spain has to offer. You ever been to Spain? It’s fucking gorgeous.”

Fucker’s avoiding my questions.

He knew Ellie would be here. And he knows we can’t stand each other. I stifle a growl of frustration while I plug the sink, squirt soap in, and flip on the faucet.

“I found her in the bathtub,” I grit out. I can tell him I found her in the bathroom, but I will not confess to my best friend that we’ve gone a lot farther than that.

Being friends with Beck Ryder saved my life, and it doesn’t matter if we go a few months without talking, that will never change.

Nor will I ever do anything to potentially fuck it up again.

I keep waiting for Ellie to tell him, for him to turn on me, but apparently she either doesn’t remember or doesn’t want him to know.

So I’m not going to tell him either.

“You found her in the bathtub? Doing Jell-O shots or something?”

Beck might play the egotistical, idiot underwear model, but I’ve known him for too many years for me to fall for this bullshit. “Naked.”

“Ah. Yeah, that makes more sense. Were you naked too?”