Flirting with the Frenemy (Bro Code #1)(43)

“My mother tells the story every time your name comes up. That poor Wyatt Morgan, we had to introduce him to real lunch meat. Think what would’ve happened to the boy’s diet if he’d never moved in down the street.”

“Lies. All lies.” So very close. I could kiss her. I shouldn’t, but I could.

Her gaze dips to my lips, a smile growing, and I’m nearly there when she suddenly jerks back and squirts ketchup across my shirt.

She gapes for a minute at me, suspended in shock. “Oh, shit,” she gasps. “I didn’t mean—”

I squeeze my bottle and get her with mustard across her chin and neck.

She squirts again, and I dive out of my chair to miss the red stream. “That was an accident, you jerk!” she shrieks.

“Likely story,” I retort, aiming the mustard just to her right.

A bird squawks indignantly. “Motherfucker, kiss my ass.” There’s a flap of wings, and Long Beak Silver shoots into the air with a streak of yellow that wasn’t on his feathers before.

We both stare at the bird.

“Oh my god, you shot Long Beak Silver,” Ellie whispers in horror.

“All your fault,” I repeat, hastily stealing her ketchup bottle and moving all the condiments two tables away.

She’s wiping the mustard off her face when Davis appears at the top of the stairs. His man bun is freshly straightened, his beard thick enough to be hiding a squeeze bottle, and he’s shaking his head. “Foreplay?”

“Shut up,” Ellie says.

I grab a napkin and wipe the mustard she missed under her jaw.

“How’s the patient?” I ask him.

“Sitting pretty with Ellie at 802,700, but I could change that to my name.”

“You are a god,” Ellie tells him. “I could even kiss that flea-infested beard. Sit. Lunch is on Wyatt.”

“So generous,” Davis replies. “Where’s your kid?”

I point to the treasure dig. “With the human parrot.”

“Ah. Anyway, bill’s in the mail. I’m heading home.”

“But you just got here,” Ellie says while I add, “Kick up your feet and stay a while.”

“No can do. I’ve got a reactor to hack.” He turns his gaze to Ellie. “We’re even now. Don’t break it again.”

“Swear on the penalty of having to watch Beck do a photo shoot, I will not touch Frogger again for the rest of my life.”

“Kiss her for me,” he adds to me. He gives us both a salute and disappears down the stairs again.

“You are not kissing me,” Ellie whispers.

“Now it’s a challenge,” I tell her.

“I’m so freaking serious, Wyatt. We can be friends, but we cannot touch, kiss, get naked, take baths, or do any other thing that people who date do. We will literally die. The universe does not want us together.”

And on top of that, she has a life in Copper Valley, and my situation is complicated.

“We have to touch at the very least,” I point out, because I’m apparently a masochistic idiot. “I’m your boyfriend this week. Your wedding date. Remember?”

“Fine. Touching. But only in public, and only when absolutely necessary. And we should probably both wear protective gear to bed—which we’re going to separately—and take shifts sleeping in case the house burns down around us.”

I don’t bother trying to hide my grin. “Sure. We’ll set up a schedule.”

“Don’t mock me. I’m serious.”

“As a heart attack?” I prompt.

She swats at my hand. “Do not tempt fate,” she hisses.

“All right, all right. No touching, no kissing, no nothing unless absolutely necessary to sell your story.”

“Thank you.”

She smiles.

I smile.

Boundaries should be a good thing. I don’t have room in my life for falling for Ellie Ryder. Not with the added complications it would bring.

But agreeing to her new terms feels more fake than pretending to be her boyfriend for the wedding.

And I don’t want to think about what that means.





Eighteen





Ellie



Because a wedding at the Pirate Festival is a big deal—especially since Shipwreck is competing with the Unicorn Festival in the small town of Sarcasm not ten miles away—Monica and Jason are guest judges for the pirate costume, ship model, and food contests, and the entire wedding party is invited along to help offer opinions. So Wednesday night, Wyatt, Tucker, and I join Monica, Jason, and their families at the Deep Blue Retreat Center, where dozens of pirate ship models are on display in the semi-circular conference room, which has windows overlooking the soft, hazy mountain ridges on either side of Shipwreck.

“These are amazing,” Monica says as we walk along the curved row of tables holding the ships submitted by the school-age kids in Shipwreck. Some are made of Legos, some out of popsicle sticks, some out of clay, but they’re all adorable and really cool in which details the kids picked to highlight.

Almost all of them have a fake bird, and at least half have signs added about no cussing on deck.

My personal favorite is the one made out of recycled food containers, and I know Monica’s totally going to vote for that one too, since her day job is making art out of recycled materials.