Page 53 of Play Pretend

She was gorgeous. Understated, but loud. She was soft—soft full cheeks, soft lips, soft eyes, soft curvy body. Pale skin with freckles dotting her arms and nose like constellations I wanted to trace. Her hair cascaded down her back in long, dark waves, like water tumbling over rocks in a river. Each wave, each curl, was highlighted red-gold in the sunlight, but the shadows were deep and dark, like they hid all her secrets.

Every inch of her was perfect. And the more I spent time with her, the more I actually talked to her, the more I realized she was perfect inside, too. All we’d done over the last five years was bicker, and with each passing second that we weren’t annoying each other, I was beginning to realize it had all been such a huge mistake on my part.

I should’ve tried harder to be her friend—to be more than her friend. I should’ve done something to make her life here better, not worse. But I was so caught up in my own life, my own bullshit, that I never thought twice about her. About anyone.

“I haven’t been here in forever,” Willow said, pulling me from my thoughts. I blinked and realized I’d been staring at her. “What’s good?”

I roughly cleared my throat as I opened the menu. I didn’t know why I was even looking. I knew exactly what I wanted. “I think everything is decent—” I cut myself off, and she glanced up. Leaning forward, I dropped my voice so no one could overhear. “Everythingusedto be decent. But then Lola’s momdied, and she took over. Now it’s…” I shrugged, but Willow nodded like she understood.

“I’ve heard others say the same thing,” she muttered. “How sad.” She looked around the diner as if it were her first time seeing it.

The black-and-white checkered linoleum floor was scuffed and stained, but clean. Each table was a different color, all faded and old. The red vinyl booths were cracked with age, and the chairs were in the same condition. Framed photos hung on the walls, mostly of historic town events like the high school football team going to regionals, or the day the lighthouse stopped working. There were some photos of Lola’s grandparents when they opened Maple Street back in the 40s, and others of her mother when she took over.

But I didn’t see one of Lola when she inherited the diner.

“What are you going to get?” she asked.

“A burger and fries.”

The bell chimed above the door, and I lifted my gaze. A man walked in with a hat low over his eyes, and his hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie. He headed for the counter, and I tracked him the entire time. I’d never seen him before, which wasn’t totally unusual. We had tourists around this time of year, but there was something about him…some kind of vibe that rippled off him that screamed, “Danger!”

“I think I’m going to get the fish and chips,” Willow said. I nodded but continued watching him.

He lifted the hem of his hoodie to reach for something. He could pull anything out—a gun, a phone, a wallet, a knife. A million different scenarios rushed through my mind, and I mindlessly reached for the hidden gun I had holstered on my hip. Obviously, I wouldn’t pull it out or use it unless I absolutely had to. But if he was fast, I had to be faster.

“Ronan?” From my peripheral, I saw Willow twist in her seat. “Oh my god.” I held my breath at her words.

“What?”

“I think that’s the guy from the bakery,” she muttered, turning back toward me. Her eyes were wide.

“Is he a problem?”

She shook her head. “He asked me out the other day,” she admitted quietly, and my eyes snapped back to him. He pulled his wallet out, and a long breath left me. At least it wasn’t a weapon. I rested my hands on the table as he handed the cashier a few bills before she handed him a to-go bag of food.“I said no. But he kinda lingered around the bakery after that. It was—is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, shortcake,” I said, pressing my lips into a smile.

I wasn’t upset that she’d been asked out. She was a pretty girl, I was sure that happened all the time. And it wasn’t even the fact he’d asked her out at all, but that he’d hung around after she’d rejected him. Even if he didn’t have any malicious intent, he still made her uncomfortable, andthatdidn’t sit right with me.

She scrunched her nose. “Why shortcake?”

“You’re short,” I teased, and she rolled her eyes. “And you work at the bakery. I didn’t give it a lot of thought.” A little giggle left her as she shook her head.

“It’s very original.”

“I thought so,” I agreed. I glanced at the man as he walked out of the diner. He didn’t get in a car, instead he strolled down the sidewalk. Everything about him felt off, but I couldn’t figure outwhy. But Willow didn’t seem alarmed by him, so I took a deep breath, forcing my worries away. “Would you rather me call you something else?”

I turned my attention back to her, and she shrugged. “I like it,” she said. Her cheeks went pink, and I grinned as I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the edge of the table.

“What’s that look for?” I asked softly. “What are you thinking about?” She shook her head, her hair swaying around her shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Tell me.” Her face flushed a deeper crimson, and I laughed. “You like when I call you sweetheart?”

“A little,” she muttered.

“What about…” I ran my lip through my teeth as she squirmed in her seat. “Baby?” Her eyes flashed, and I tapped my fingers against the table. Yeah, she liked that one. I did, too. “Baby girl?”

“I like those,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Good. Me too.”

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