Page 40 of Broken Grump

“Yeah. We’ve got our first meeting with Randall O’Brien. Remember? He’s—”

“The landowner’s son-in-law.”

He clicks his tongue and holds his mouth open. Like it’s the most shocking thing in the world that I remembered that.

“I’m a good listener,” I remind him.

“I guess so.”

But back to the issue at hand. “I just—” I run my fingers through my dark hair. “I just don’t need any favors from you, okay? In terms of my mother, I mean.”

His focus is back on his screen, but he responds, “I know that. But if we’re going to pull this off—the fake couple thing, I mean—we should at least berealfriends, don’t you think?”

Hayden Cohen? My friend. What an interesting proposition.

“Just think about it, what if we could go back to how things were? Do you even remember that?”

I rub at my upper arm and admit, “Of course, I do.”

He makes eye contact again and shakes his head. “Gun to my head, I would’ve said you were the person who knew me best in those days.”

Same.

“Anyway. We should probably get going.”

Then, instead of the innocent eighteen-year-olds we once were, we’re grown-ups in our thirties again.

“Right.”

He’s clearly in business mode again, and he gestures with his head for me to follow him out into the parking lot.

“Wait! I drove myself.”

“That’s okay. I’ll drop you off later.”

Without another word, he starts the car and drives us to the location. And I’m left with nothing to do but sit on the front seat of his ginormous G-Wagon.

He may be a few feet away, but he feels light years away as he disappears into his gadget.

Chapter thirteen

Hayden

“Oh, wait.” I stopher just before she gets out of the car. “I have a present for you.”

Her arm is already on the door handle, but she looks over at me with a scowl. “A present?”

“Think of it more like a piece of a costume, if that makes you more comfortable.” I then produce a small box out of the interior pocket of my jacket.

“Oh, wow.” She accepts it and opens it before snickering at the contents inside. “Wow.” The gold chain cross necklace intertwines in her fingers, and she brings it up to inspect. “That—that sure is something.”

“Here.”

She hands it over, and I unclasp it.

Next, she lifts her hair up, I drape it around her next, and secure it.

“Well?”

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