Page 8 of Play Pretend

“Have a good day. Love you.”

“Love you.” I hung up and hurried through the back door. “I’m here!” My voice carried to every corner of the old kitchen. Dough, sugar, and cinnamon scented the air from the baking cinnamon rolls in the oven, and my mouth immediately watered.

“About time,” Gracie grumbled as she pushed through the swinging door, winking so I knew she was teasing. I gave her a guilty smile as I put everything away and grabbed my apron from its hook.

“I’m so sorry,” I rushed out. “My mom was on the phone, and Ronan was—well, Ronan.”

“It’s not a big deal. Kenny isn’t here yet.”

She rested her hip on the butcher block counter before grabbing her mug of steaming tea. My shoulders fell as I leaned against the white shiplap wall. Snatching my to-go mug up, I took a long sip, letting the sweet coffee slide down my throat.

“Still having issues with Ronan?” she asked, her hazel eyes scrutinizing every inch of me. I shrugged as casually as I could, keeping the cup at my mouth. “I don’t know why you don’t just move.”

“I like my house,” I said a bit too defensively. The corner of her mouth quirked up, and I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”

“Just admit you like him,” she teased. “Admit he’s the reason you want to stay there.”

“No.” My cup clattered on the counter as I shoved it away. I pulled my hair up into a messy bun before shoving off the wall. “He’s insufferable.”

She hummed with laughter, and I let out an exasperated breath as I washed my hands, the sweet floral soap slicing through the yeasty scent of baking rolls. I kept my back to her,focusing on the suds between my fingers instead of the words that rang just a bit too true.

Ronan and I constantly bickered, but I think that was easier than actually talking. It was easier than trying to be his friend—or something more.

Five years ago, I moved in next door, and at the time, he’d been even grumpier than he currently was. He hated everything and everyone. I’d tried to be neighborly and take him some baked goods, but he ignored me—even though I knew he was home.

I figured he wanted to be left alone, so I left him alone. I stopped bothering him, stopped trying to beneighborly. And then he started complaining about the overflow of plants on the porch, or the fact I played music too loud.

That was when the bickering started. He was annoyed when I parked on his side; I was annoyed when he did house projects at midnight. Over the years, it became our thing. Now, there was safety in it. It was predictable. It was routine.

I didn’t truly hold any animosity toward him. I wasn’t sure if he really hated me or not, though. But I liked him…as much as I could like a grumpy asshole.

“When does Kenny get here with the honey?” I asked, trying to shift the subject far away from Ronan.

“He should’ve been here by now, but in classic Kenny fashion, he’s late.”

I dried my hands on a worn kitchen towel as I turned toward my best friend. Her golden-tan forearms rested on the counter, and her near-black hair was twisted into a massive bun at the top of her head. Ringlets fell around her face, framing it, and her massive doe-eyes stared back at me as she grinned.

“What?” I folded my arms across my chest, my brow kicking up. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She shrugged a shoulder, the casual movement somehow elegant. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way.” She laughed. “Just looking at you. Is that a crime?” I opened my mouth to shoot back some snarky remark when she snapped her fingers. “I know. If itisa crime, I’ll just call our local sheriff to come arrest me. That way you can see him again, and I can see how much you definitely donotlike him.”

“Gracie Mendez,” I growled, pointing a warning finger her direction. “You’re so freaking lucky I love you, or you’d be sleeping with the fishes tonight.” Her head fell back as she cackled, the sound echoing off the walls of our little kitchen. It was infectious, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “But seriously, drop it. I don’t like him.”

“Sure, babe. Whatever you say.”

What was it with everyone thinking I liked Ronan today?

They were right—Ididhave a crush on him. The smallest, littlest crush in the entire world. It was stupid, and I knew nothing would ever come of it. But it was still there, and I tried to squash it every day.

That insufferable grin stayed on her face as the bell above the front door rang, and we both turned on our customer-service personas. She fluffed her hair, making sure the tight curls were imperfectly perfect, then headed out through the swinging door. I rolled my head side to side before following her.

“Sorry I’m late, girls,” Kenny said gruffly, flashing a weak smile our way. The older man had only one half of his overalls buttoned, the shirt beneath wrinkled and stained. Looking at him, you wouldn’t know he was a multimillionaire who ran one of the best and most successful bee farms on this side of the country. “I have the gold you were looking for.”

Gracie laughed softly, so different from the real laugh she’d just given me in the kitchen, and gestured toward the door he’d just entered from. “Lead the way, Mr. Key.”

“I’ve told you to call me Kenny,” he gently chastised, giving us both another smile before heading back outside.

The sun was quickly rising, the heat rising with it. We managed to move several crates of jarred honey into the store before breaking too much of a sweat, though. It was wild that I grew up in Ohio, that I was so used to the warm weather and humidity, that a day like today would’ve felt like winter back home.

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