Page 101 of Friends Don't Kiss

I give his biceps a squeeze. “I’m serious. Don’t make me regret asking you for advice.”

His features turn serious. “Sweets, it’s a board of five people. Our meetings and votes are public. No one is doing anyone a favor. You asked me for advice. I just need to look into it to give you the best possibleadvice.” He cups my face in his big hand. “Nothin’ more than looking into it.”

Our lips touch lightly. “Okay,” I whisper against his mouth.

The scent of caramel and apples calls me back to reality. “I think the pie is ready. We should get ready to go.”

We clean the place up together, and it feels good and even fun wiping the shower and sink while the sheets and towels are in the wash, giving the place a quick vacuum, bringing fresh logs inside.

Making the bed together.

My heart does pinch a bit there, I have to admit. After I fluff the last pillow against the headboard, Colton wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, rocking me to the sound of his heartbeat. “This is where we begin, Kiara. I don’t want you to be sad about that.”

I lift my eyes to him. “I’m not sad. I’m… emotional.”

His head jerks back imperceptibly. “Emotional’s good,” he declares before taking my mouth with his. After he pulls away, he says, “Let’s go home now,” and holds my hand as we leave the bedroom.

thirty-six

Colton

Itearmyselffromthesmell of the A-frame, leaving the apple pie behind. Kiara wrapped it in beeswax paper, left a thank-you note, and made sure I texted my friend so that either he or the housekeeper got the pie.

“You’re gonna have a lifetime of pies, and cupcakes, and napoleons. I’m gonna make you grow a belly.” She snorts in the most adorable way as we triple-check that we left everything in shipshape.

I swat her ass and look at her in the A-frame. I want to give her something like that, someday. A house we’d call our own.

But this isn’t for now, and as I hit I-91, the stuff I got waiting for me in Emerald Creek starts creeping back into my consciousness, quickly chased by what Kiara asked me concerning the variance application.

I’ll have to look at previous applications and their outcomes and also make sure Kiara’s application has all its i’s dotted and t’s crossed. “You should probably apply for your variance sooner than later,” I say while we’re coasting north. Kiara is quiet, and I’ll bet her thoughts are on work as well. “There’s a whole process of notifying neighbors and a wait period, as well as putting it on the agenda ahead of time.” That much I remember from all the legal material Ms. Angela gave me. “But I’ll look into it tonight.”

“Thank you,” she says softly. “I don’t want special treatment, right? Just advice.”

I grunt. I’ll give her advice, and if there’s something I can do to help, I’ll do it. Damn right I will.

“How do you like being on the board so far?”

I shrug. “It’s alright. Someone’s gotta do it. I like seeing people come in and discussing our problems.” I smirk and add, “But the cakes are the best part.” A lot of people bring food to share at the meetings, setting it in the back of the room. Kiara never fails to bring a cake or two.

“I draw the line at Louise bitching about Shy Rabit or asking that the noise ordinance be amended to start at eight p.m. The minute she goes to the mic, I’m outta there,” Kiara says.

“She should be on a temporary ban,” I joke.

She laughs at my suggestion. “See? No one ever thought of that. You’re adding value already.”

“What’s your favorite part of the meetings?” If she’s going to be in the audience, I’ll want to know what makes her tick, what annoys her. Not that I’m treating it like a performance, but I’m realizing we won’t be sitting next to each other, commenting on what’s going on. That’s the fun part of these meetings.

“Ah… where do I start? Declan’s reports on—”

Oh those. Priceless. I finish her sentence “Daisy’s whereabouts and another 911 call about the food at the Silver House.”

“Now what’s up with that place? I read about that on Echoes last summer but, honest to god, there was so much going on at the time I never thought to ask.”

I keep forgetting that Kiara didn’t grow up with all of Emerald Creek’s history. “The retirement house is funded by a trust left by some wealthy recluse, decades ago.”

“Wealthy recluse seems to be a theme here,” she says, referring to Louise, who funds the library and is on a personal crusade against romance books as well as anything remotely fun.

“Yeah well, this one’s hobby was old people, not books. She left a building to the town and an endowment for them to run it as a retirement home. The town has an oversight on how things are run there, so obviously when the potatoes aren’t cooked right, we hear all about it.”

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