Flirting with the Frenemy (Bro Code #1)(26)

“Here. No cooties. Like this.” I bend over, take Ellie’s hand, and press a loud, smacking kiss to it, but I also trail my fingers down her palm.

Lightly.

Where no one can see.

Goosebumps visibly travel up her arm, and there’s a tremor in her hand before I lower it, still holding on.

“See?” I say to Tucker. “Nothing to it.”

I help Tucker into his chair on her other side and take the liberty of sweeping her short, dark curls back from her cheek before I pull out my own chair and sit.

Something squishes under my ass, and I register cold liquid on my left butt cheek the same moment a woman behind me shrieks.

I leap up as fast as I can, bumping into a passing server, who dumps a pizza all down the back of the woman who just got sprayed with—with what?

Whatever it is, it’s red and sticky and why the fuck is there a bottle of ketchup in a pizza joint?

“Oh my god, you sat on the French dressing!” Blond Caveman’s girlfriend says. Her eyes are round like she’s both horrified and trying not to laugh.

“French—what?” Tucker asks.

“The French dressing,” Ellie tells him, and I can hear her trying not to laugh as she scoots her chair, winces, and tries again to rise. “They put it on the pizza here, and—oh. Right. Bad time. Sorry.”

“I’m so sorry. Oh my gosh, ma’am, I’m so, so sorry,” the server is babbling. “Sir. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how—why—”

I try to help her pick up the pizza. “My fault,” I tell her. “Should’ve looked before I sat.”

Ellie’s sucking her cheeks in, face pointed at the ground. Tucker looks like he can’t decide if he’s supposed to laugh or cry.

“Daddy made a big boo-boo,” I tell him.

“This isn’t funny,” Monica whispers, like she’s talking to herself, while her face contorts with the effort of holding in laughter.

Her fiancé is on the ground helping me, lips twisted in a wry grin. “Could’ve happened to any of us, man. Ellie, sit. We got this.”

A manager rushes over, and Blond Caveman’s girlfriend leaps into action, checking the woman behind me for pizza burns. “I’m a nurse,” she says, like she just remembered. “May I?”

“Wyatt?” Ellie whispers in a strangled voice.

“Yeah?” I grunt while I swipe at melted cheese on the old wood floor.

“I’m sorry you’re having a shitty day.”

All of a sudden, the woman we’ve accidentally assaulted with French dressing and pizza bursts into laughter. “What are the odds?” she says.

“I’m really sorry, ma’am,” I say again.

“Honey, I was just sitting here mad because I have to go see my sister-in-law, who’s always talking about all the terrible calamities that happen to her, like getting a wart on her knee, which is a pretty lame calamity, but that’s my sister-in-law for you, and now I got a story that’ll top her for life.”

“Ma’am, we’re still going to have to comp your pizza and give you a coupon for more. And a free T-shirt,” the manager says.

“Can I get one of those glow-in-the-dark cups and a pirate mug too? I’ll pay for it, but I’m telling her I got it all for free.” She cackles as she rubs the French dressing on her shirt with a napkin. “She’s gonna be so jealous.”

“Her mug’s on me,” I tell the manager.

“I’ll buy her an Anchovies hoodie,” Jason pipes up.

“Put one of them squeezy treasure chests for her on my bill,” a grandma two tables over calls. “This is the best entertainment I had since Blackbeard stripped for me two nights ago.”

Half the people in the restaurant groan. “Didn’t need to know that, Sandy!” someone calls back.

“There are kids in this place, Nana,” the manager chastises.

“A stress chest? That’s it?” someone else says. “Cheapskate. I’m getting a whole set of mugs for her.”

“And I’m buying that table’s dinner,” another voice chimes in, pointing at us.

“Root beer all around!” someone hollers.

Despite sitting on French dressing for the next hour—the remains of which Ellie slathers all over her pizza and talks Tucker into trying too, after she’s taught him how to draw a pirate face—lunch is just as much fun as Scuttle Putt was, except with more sea shanties and souvenirs. Monica’s toned down the shrieking about Ellie and me dating, and instead is peppering me with questions about being a flight test engineer. Except for the occasional snide comment about my pay grade, the Blond Caveman keeps his attention focused mostly on his phone. Jason tells us all about the last time he went to Africa with the nonprofit he works for, and then brags on Monica’s recycled artwork.

And Tucker gets to color a pirate ship that Ellie draws him on the paper placemat, which keeps him happy long after he’s done eating. He’s loaded down with more loot than he picked up at the parade by the time we leave.

“This town is crazy,” I mutter to Ellie once we’re back out on the street, stuffed with the best thin crust pizza in the entire state.

“Customer service and reputation above all else,” she replies. “Welcome to the Shipwreck family.”