Page 65 of The Best Friend Power Play

"What are you doing here on a workday?" she asks, then looks past me to the book I was looking at. "You never leave the shop."

True. Apart from when Chester broke a tooth at lunch and I had to take him to the dentist, I've never closed the flower shop before.

I smile proudly, rocking on my feet. "Hot girl summer rules. If it feels good, do it."

Beth's eyes sparkle. "Ooh. I like that. And is that what brings you into the romance section, by any chance?"

"No. You were busy helping a customer, and I was just…browsing."

That's a white lie.

I may or may not have been trying to see if a friends to lovers and marriage of convenience and only one bed romance novel exists.

For research purposes.

She cocks a brow. "Well, your timing is uncanny. Amiel just popped in, too."

I look up and down the romance section. "Where is she?"

Beth motions to the next aisle over. "She's made the bold leap into spicy romance."

"Ooh, fun." We start to make our way over to Amiel. "How come you don't like spicy romance?" I ask Beth.

"Personal preference, that's all. It's not a judgment on anyone who enjoys it. I just prefer avoiding certain scenes and language. It takes me out of the story."

"Fair enough."

"When it comes to reading, I live by the motto Don't yuck someone else's yum."

"I like that."

"As long as people don't come at me for reading clean romance, I'm good."

We stop walking.

"Wait. People do that?"

She shrugs. "Happens from time to time. Some readers expect nothing but support for their reading choices and preferences but don't extend that same support to others. Half the time I don't even think they realize they're doing it. But what can you do?"

"Be the bigger person?" I suggest.

Beth grins. "Exactly."

"Oh, hey, stranger," Amiel says when she spots us.

"Why are you both calling me stranger?" I ask once Amiel and I have hugged. "It's only been a few weeks since…"

Uh-oh. I shouldn't have said that.

Amiel's eyes widen in delight, Beth smirks, and between the two of them, there hasn't been this much eyebrow waggling in Comfort Bay since it was revealed Doyle's second cousin, Marla, was the culprit who went around in the middle of the night secretly planting zucchinis in people’s gardens—don't ask me why she did it, we still don't know.

"Since a certain two-time winning Stanley Cup player crashed at your place for the summer?" Amiel offers.

"Uh, yeah."

"How are things going on that front?" Beth asks.

"Great. Good. I mean, fine." My keeping-up-appearances skills have gotten a little rusty. "We went to see the purple carpet last weekend."

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