Page 47 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

“She’s thriving. Loving it. Honestly, she slipped right into first grade like she’d known all those kids her whole life—not just as a toddler before we left.” She rolls her eyes, and there’s the sassy cousin I know and love, finally coming out of her writing coma. “When school ended last week, she was queen of the playground. Apparently everyone wanted to be Scarlett’s friend. Hopefully it doesn’t go to her head.”

“Takes after her mama, that one.” I wink. “So what’s she doing now that school’s out? Hanging with Aunt Bea while you work?”

“Some of the time, but I enrolled her at the summer day camp that Go Round Adventures is running.”

Oh, right. Marilee had mentioned that Jordan’s company was expanding this summer to try out a program for kids. “That’s the one Sarah and Mandy Hubbard are running, yeah?” The sisters actually are the reason I snagged a room at Marilee’s house. They moved here last year to work for Jordan, lived with Marilee in the rooms Blake and I now occupy, but decided to get their own apartment together, which made room for me at the beginning of May.

“Yep. She loves it. Especially all the sports. Football is her favorite.”

And that makes me snort. “Who knew your daughter would be sporty?” The only time I’ve seen April run (other than forced gym class in high school) was when she once won an all-you-can-grab-in-two-minutes book sweepstakes at The Bluestocking Bookshop where she now works.

“Yeah. Funny.” Her gaze slips away toward the women in the kitchen, almost as if she’s contemplating escaping our conversation to help cook—which is even more laughable, because she’s like me when it comes to her kitchen craftiness. Why is she…

Ah. Of course. She must be thinking of Scarlett’s dad. None of us know his identity—she’s always refused to say, and I’ve just always assumed it was some jerk she met in college who left her high and dry when she told him she was pregnant—but maybe he was sporty.

I reach over and squeeze her arm. “I’m glad she’s doing so well. And I have no doubt you’re going to crush that book deadline, even if it’s self-imposed.”

She flashes me a genuine smile. “Thanks, Lucy.” Then her mouth tilts even more to the side, and I recognize the look in her eyes. The prying one. The teasing glint that says she’s about to ask me something personal. “Sooo. How are you, really? I’ve heard rumors about you and a certain food truck owner and have been meaning to ask you if they’re true.”

I cough. “Depends on what you’ve heard. We haven’t murdered each other yet.”

“Yes, I can see that.” She leans forward, grinning. Whatever was on her mind just a few moments ago has clearly fled. “Elisse texted me that she saw you sneaking out of the truck last night, and even though it was dark, she could tell your cheeks looked flushed.”

Darn that Elisse, always looking to stir up trouble for me. Hmm. Maybe the ladies in the kitchen do need help…

I do my best to maintain a neutral expression. “For your information—and you can tell Elisse this too—I was helping Blake with a recipe and standing near the stove. Naturally, I’d get warm.” I mean, yeah, it’s the truth. But there was also the heat from Blake’s body so near mine, from his gaze as he pinned me to the spot while I tried his—our—creation…

The warmth exploding inside me when I realized that he’d been handing out my coupons.

It started as embarrassment that I’d needed the help but quickly morphed into something more. Something that very nearly made me rise up on my tiptoes and fuse my mouth with his.

Instead, I sank into his arms. Because clearly, he’s working at a truce too. The fliers were his white flag. Doesn’t mean I need to go making a fool of myself. He’s leaving, after all.

But I still can’t get it out of my head the way he looked at me. The almost near certainty that he’s feeling what I am. That the spark is there.

I just don’t know what to do with that. Probably nothing.

From the way her eyebrows are rising and waggling, April’s not buying my story. “Helping with a recipe, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

Sweet macaroni. Her implication makes me blush here and now. I feel my cheeks heating hotter than a Fourth of July firework. Taking one of the couch pillows beside me, I toss it at her head.

She dodges it and laughs. “Kidding, kidding. I know how much you loathe the man.”

“Yeah. Totally.” But my voice lacks conviction.

Her eyes narrow, and she studies me like a lion assessing its prey. “Oh, no. Lucy.”

Oh, no, Lucy, is right. “What?” I fold my arms over my chest.

April frowns. “You know I love to tease you, but you haven’t honestly fallen for the guy again, have you?”

“No.” Again, I’m as convictionless as a felon intent on a crime.

My cousin hauls herself out of the chair and comes to plop beside me on the couch. She turns her body so she’s facing me, and I do the same, one leg pulled up underneath me. “Lucy, I know I’m two years younger than you, so we didn’t exactly hang out a lot in high school, but even I saw how you felt about him. And you never talked about it, but I saw how it tore you up when he left for college.”

I open my mouth to protest—because that’s what I’ve always done—but my recent conversation with Marilee comes to mind. Maybe I need to start being honest with not just the people I love, but myself too. “It did.” My words are soft. “But…I don’t know.” I run my finger along the couch’s blue weathered fabric.

And finally, I get the courage to voice the question that I’ve been trying to bury the last week, since Blake and I made our truce. Since I’ve started seeing I was wrong about him. That maybe the old Blake is still in there somewhere. That work isn’t all he cares about. And that maybe he really does have feelings for me too. “Maybe things could be different this time around.”

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