Flirting with the Frenemy (Bro Code #1)(24)

“I love you,” I tell him.

“I know,” he replies, and I set him down with a chuckle. “Your turn, Dad. I’ll bet you can get it right in his forehead. That’s the hardest shot, so they made the hole really big. I’ll bet even Cooper Rock couldn’t get it in his forehead.”

I oblige and sink my ball into the Kraken’s forehead, which, indeed, is the biggest hole. But I don’t tell him that makes it the easiest, because I like being his hero.

“Someday, I’m gonna be a putt-putt master just like you,” Tucker informs me.

I take his hand while we head over to turn in our clubs. “Someday, you’ll be even better than me.”

“Yeah, because I’m gonna be Captain America one day,” he says sagely.

“Captain America? Who wants to be Captain America when you can be Blackbeard?” the wizened old man behind the counter says with a wink while we hand him our clubs. He’s sporting an eye patch, a pirate hat, and a parrot on his shoulder.

“Fucking Blackbeard,” the parrot says.

“Hush, hush, Long Beak Silver.” The old pirate—pretty sure they call him Pop around here, head of the Rock clan—looks sternly at Tucker. “Don’t ever let your grandkids parrot sit. They teach terrible words. But I’ll get ‘em. I’ll get ‘em all. I’m fixin’ to set every one of ‘em up with the love of their lives, and that’ll teach ‘em.”

“Empty threats,” a pretty woman in jeans and a Shipwreck T-shirt says as she strolls in the door. “If you were going to set us up, you would’ve done it by now.”

“Maybe I should practice on this young man.”

Tucker giggles again. “I don’t want to fall in love with a girl. I’m only seven.”

“Hmmm… Then maybe I should practice on your dad.”

“He’s in love with his work.”

Pop and his granddaughter both cough, identical blue eyes twinkling while I scrub my hand over my face to keep Tucker from seeing the irritation blossoming.

His mother shouldn’t say things like that in front of him. I’m not married to my work.

I have split priorities between family and country. Whereas she—

Nope. Won’t help. Not going there.

“Ah, a tough case,” Pop says. “Good. It’ll just prove to my grandkids that it can be done.”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Have no fear,” she tells me. “You’re safe.”

“You hungry?” I ask Tucker.

“I was hungry back before we jumped over the alligators, but they scared the hungry right out of me. I could be again though. Let me check.” He pats his stomach. “Hey, belly, you want some food?” He cocks his head, then nods. “It says yes, Dad. We want more donuts.”

We escape the matchmaking old man and head down the street to check out the wait at Anchovies, the pizza joint in the middle of Blackbeard Avenue. The hairs on my arms rise to attention a split second before I realize who’s in front of us in line.

Ellie’s best friend.

The bride.

She’s in jeans today, but her T-shirt has a skull and crossbones on it, and she’s wearing pirate boots and parrot earrings.

“Oh my gosh, it’s Ellie’s Wyatt,” she says.

Fuck.

Dammit.

Small town. Guess it was bound to happen.

The two men and the woman with her all glance back at Tucker and me, and I instinctively grip his hand tighter while I nod to her. “Morning.”

“We’re not going to have to fight over who gets to sit with her, are we?” she asks.

The Blond Caveman goes stiff, earning a suspicious look from the redhead with him, but doesn’t explain where Ellie is right now.

“I love Miss Ellie,” Tucker declares. “She shares her donuts.”

With some of us.

I didn’t get any.

The bride—Monica, I’m almost positive, who Beck’s mentioned a time or two, said she was Ellie’s best friend since college—squats down to Tucker’s level. “Do you want to sit with us so we don’t have to fight over her?”

“Yeah! And I’ll share my shaker cheese with her to thank her for the donuts.”

“Perfect. Jason, sweetie, make it a table for seven,” she tells the longer-haired blond holding her hand.

“We wouldn’t want—” I start.

“Don’t be silly. They have to push two tables together for a party of five anyway, so we’re being more economical. Plus, who wouldn’t want to eat with a kid this cute?”

Tucker grins up at me with his crooked, oversized front teeth, unruly brown hair, button nose, and dirty glasses, and I can’t help smiling back.

I should object more, but it’s likely me joining them for lunch will piss Ellie off.

And that is my secondary job for the week, right behind having fun with Tucker and right before losing sleep to try to recover Beck’s high score on Frogger.

Oh. And that whole playing her boyfriend thing.

Which I intend to enjoy every minute of.

Just to watch her ex squirm.

If he hadn’t pulled the dick of all dick moves—who dumps someone on Christmas?—she wouldn’t have been at her parents’ place looking for someone to share her misery with.