Page 2 of Tied Up in Riches

“It’s only to save room for all the tacos. OH. And the pizza. You know what we haven’t had in forever?” Maci’s eyes light up like she’s talking about picking up an airline ticket for her next adventure instead of whatever simple food she’s about to ask for.

“I’m not driving two and a half hours to get Dump City Dumplings.” Dean chuckles, squeezing Maci closer. How the hell did he get dumplings from that? My chest tightens as I try to push away the jealousy of their connection. I’m starting to think I won’t find it. It’s getting more difficult to convince myself that I’ll find someone I’m compatible with after each failed coffee date.

“But,” Maci pouts.

“I have a long day,” I cut in. “I won’t be home until late, but if you don’t mind doing the shopping, I’ll send you a list and cook tonight.”

Maci’s eyes widen like an hour of my time and Asian food is equivalent to Chef Morimoto stopping by. I don’t cook very often these days, and I know she and Dean tend to resort to tacos almost every night, but I still have to eat, and it would be a nice treat compared to my late night DoorDash orders. “Really?!”

“Yes.” I chuckle.

She releases Dean, and I have just enough time to set my nearly empty coffee mug on the counter before she flings her arms around me. “Thanks, Marcus. Do you want to switch places with Dean? I could use someone to satisfy my cravings.”

“Hey!” Dean chuckles. “I seem to recall a lot of satisfaction last night.”

I lick my lips with a smirk as Maci pulls away to grin at her fiancé. “How about you just spread the word to all your single friends,” I tell her.

“Trust me, I try. How you are still single is beyond me.” She hums.

“Not many people can handle so much of a good thing,” I tease, moving past them to put my mug in the sink. I’d probably have to let someone in longer, to see the extent of what I have to offer, to know if that were true. “Thanks for the coffee,” I address Maci before turning to Dean. “Later, man.” I slug his shoulder on my way to the front door.

Chapter two

Brooke

“Hiiiiiii,” I squeal, my backpack falling to the cement walkway outside of the baggage claim at Eugene airport. Throwing my arms around Maci’s neck, I hug my friend, my blonde waves flying over her shoulder. It’s been a year since we met on her trip to Thailand.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” she says, squeezing me tight. Tears float along my waterline. Besides my dad and my childhood best friend, Cam, no one is ever unconditionally happy to see me. Shaking partly from excitement and partly from the chill of the early May weather in the Pacific Northwest, I cling to the warmth of her sweatshirt. Or maybe just the warmth of her.

Maci drops her arms, grabbing the handle of my suitcase containing everything I own as I reach for my backpack. Taking me in, she laughs. “Are you freezing?”

My favorite pair of loose tan shorts and white and navy striped ribbed tank were perfect for the 30? it was when I left Phuket yesterday. “This is not exactly appropriate for the 15° it is in Oregon.”

Maci searches the depth of her mind for a math equation. I guess I better get my brain back on track with America–the country that feels so superior that they calculate everything differently than the rest of the world. I try to calculate it for myself.

“I think it’s like 60?.” She chuckles, reading my mind.

“Yeah, it’s too cold.” I laugh. “It’s been a while since I’ve needed a jacket.” Three years to be exact. Outside of a few instances, I haven’t worn one since I left Connecticut and moved to Thailand. Maci pops the trunk of the Range Rover she picked me up in. This thing is huge. I slide my suitcase against the charcoal carpet of the tailgate, unzip it and pull out my plum zip-up hoodie–the only piece of clothing I kept from my life before Thailand.

Tugging my arms through the sleeves, I slide onto the passenger seat. “Did you upgrade your car?” I ask Maci as she flicks on the blinker and looks over her shoulder. This car doesn’t seem like her at all.

She pulls out of the loading zone lane. “No. Dean dropped mine off to get new tires before he left on a boys’ camping trip. They took his truck, so I borrowed Marcus’ car. Plus, I thought it would be a nice change from Tuk Tuks.” I already miss Thailand, despite my main mode of transportation being a motorized cart that is so small your head hits the ceiling and knees jam into your boobs.

“Did you forget to tell me Marcus is rich?”

She shoots me a look before paying attention to the road again. “No. Don’t do that. I know where your head is going, and I can confirm he’s not part of some fancy country club.”

“Hmm.”

She glances at me with a sly smile. “His mom was a bus driver and his dad was a crossing guard. I think that’s how they met.”

I need to find a way to stop prematurely jumping to conclusions. It’s hard when I’ve been proven right about rich people so many times. “Sounds sweet. It’s nice of him to let me stay at his house.”

“He’s great. He’s easily my favorite friend of Dean’s. They’ve known each other forever. He said you can have his room too.”

“Oh, no. I don’t want to take over his space.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s not home a lot, and when he is, he doesn’t sleep much anyway.”

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