Page 12 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

“Still, we miss seeing you whenever we want, sweetheart,” Bea continues.

I nudge her. “In a town as small as Hallmark Beach, we see each other just as often as when I lived at home. Take this morning as a case in point.”

“True, true.”

Cynthia calls Aunt Bea’s name and slides two drinks across the counter. After my aunt grabs them, she turns and holds them in the air. “I’d best get this hot chocolate to your uncle. You know how Burt likes his sugar hit in the morning.”

I laugh, picturing my crazy, lovable uncle with his stained coveralls, slight hunchback, and wiry hair. In many ways, he’s the opposite of my dad—a quiet man who died from cancer when I was eight—but the brothers were alike in all the ways that mattered, starting with their big hearts.

It’s no wonder Mama completely fell apart when he died.

My aunt and her best friend leave, and I wait for my own coffee, watching for a peek of Marilee. She’s probably flitting away in the kitchen, and you know what? I don’t really need to disturb her. I can wait until tonight to talk with her about Blake.

But just as Cynthia finally delivers my drink and I turn to leave, Marilee breezes through the kitchen door, flour dancing across her cheeks and spilled down her apron. “Morning, Luce. Cynthia said you wanted to see me.” She’s about to hug me when she’s nearly tackled by a tiny body. Apparently I wasn’t the only one watching for her.

Squatting down, Mare pulls Ryder into a huge hug. “How’s my favorite guy?”

“I had chocolate pancakes, Lee-Lee! They were delicious and I pretended my fork was a sword, but Daddy said I should probably stop, only when I said I didn’t wanna, he pretended with me.” He chatters on and on, and I might as well be dead to Mare in this moment, because the woman is only capable of focusing on one person at a time—whoever is right in front of her. I can’t complain though, because it’s what makes her an amazing friend.

Tapping my fingers along the edge of my cup, I take a sip—ah—and wait my turn with a smile on my face.

While Marilee and Ryder discuss the finer points of fork swordplay, Jordan joins us. “Let’s let Lee-Lee get back to work, huh?”

Marilee glances up and grins. “Say that three times fast.”

Ryder starts doing just that, and Marilee joins him until they’re both in fits of laughter. Casually, I glance at Jordan to gauge his reaction. Pure adoration is shining from his face. Who knows? Maybe it has nothing to do with loving Marilee, and everything to do with seeing his boy laugh. The last several months have been tough since Ryder’s mom, Georgia—who Jordan never really dated, but co-parented with well enough—passed away.

Jordan puts his hand on Ryder’s shoulder. “Come on, little dude. We’ve got to get started on our hike before Grandpa and Grandma come pick you up tonight.” He’s really good about letting Ryder see Georgia’s parents on the regular, despite the fact they live one town over.

Marilee straightens and swipes at her apron, which does nothing to dissipate the flour stuck there. “Wish I could join you. Have fun.”

“Thanks. We still on for tomorrow night?” Jordan asks.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss Sunday movie night for the world.” She bends down and gives Ryder a kiss on the head, then squeezes Jordan’s elbow before he leads the kid out the front door. Finally, she turns to me. “Sorry about that. How are you?”

“I don’t know, Mare.” I cock my head and offer a teasing smile that covers the sudden nerves zipping up my spine. I hate confrontation and any manner of unpleasantness. “How do you think I am?”

She blanches. “Right. Blake.”

“Yeah. Blake.” Wearing as big a smile as I can muster, I grab her hand and squeeze. “Couldn’t you have at least warned a girl?”

“I swear I didn’t know he was coming, Luce.” Guess she can see through my facade. It’s no secret that I’ve been holding a grudge against Blake on Marilee’s behalf for the last six years.

Of course, that’s not where my hurt concerning Blake Moffitt began. But it’s definitely an easier offense to point to.

The bell over the door jangles, and in walks a tourist couple I don’t recognize. We step aside, closer to the wall so we aren’t in the way.

“It’s fine. Really. I just wish I hadn’t wasted the rest of our bananas.”

“He told me about that.” Marilee offers a wry grin. “Sounds like you had pretty good aim.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” I shrug. “I’m the best darn banana slinger in the West.”

After we both chuckle, Marilee sobers. “I know you aren’t his biggest fan, but…” Her voice is tight, quiet. Soft. “Are you okay if he stays with us?”

“What? Of course. It’s your house.”

“It’s yours now too. And I want you to feel comfortable.”

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