Page 73 of Friends Don't Kiss

“I’m not sure if you know how this works?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows to confirm this is a serious question.

Ah, there we are. Condescending Owen, taking newbie Colton under his wing. That’s a new one. I sit back in my chair (which has a backandarmrests) and staple my fingers—not just to mimic his pose, but more so to hide my grin. “Tell me,” I say.

He goes into the details of the zoning regulations in Emerald Creek, which I’m pretty familiar with, but whatever. When he starts explaining to me under which conditions we can say fuck it to said regulations, I ostensibly pull out my phone, check the time, and place it face up on the army-green metal desk. Then I resume my stance, looking him in the eye.

He shifts his gaze to a spot on my shoulder. “George Richardson—you know him, right?”

I was born here, dickhead, just like you. Of course I know Georgie.I nod.

“He’s—”

We’re interrupted by a quick knock on the back door—the one leading to the bay—and the door flies open. My guys aren’t specially trained in privacy matters. I like it that way. I have nothing to hide. “Boss!” Linwood’s voice sounds in my back. “Oh, sorry.”

“Just a sec,” I answer without looking back. I nod to Owen to continue as the door shuts.

“Richardson’s applying for a variance.”

Yup, saw that on the agenda. Got the email from the town offices. Planned on looking at it tonight to prepare for our next meeting. I raise an eyebrow. “Is he?” Owen loves to feel like he has the upper hand.

And there he is, straightening his posture, puffing out his chest. He nods. “And that’s where you come in.” He clears his throat. I strive to show no emotion. Just glance at my phone. Itisgetting late. “He and I… we do business together.” Course they do. Georgie is the largest land and building owner in Emerald Creek; Owen is the only lawyer in town. Georgie uses Owen. Nothing wrong with that. “Which means, I don’t want to vote in favor of the variance. I-I-I-don’t want to be seen as doing him a favor, you see—but!” he adds with a finger raised, “I wouldn’t—if I did. I would be doingthe towna favor. But no one’s gonna understand that. I mean,youknow it. You know how people are around here. They just stop at appearances. They don’t see the bigger picture.”

“But you do,” I say, wondering if he’ll catch the irony in my tone.

“I do! Thank you. Thank you for noticing.” He leans back, then catches himself when he remembers he’s on a stool. “You know, you’ve come a long way.”

I take a deep breath so I don’t roll my eyes. I really do want to know why he’s here, why all this flattery, and then it hits me just as he says it.

“We’ll need your vote in favor of the variance—thetownwill need your vote.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I was going to look at it tonight,” I say right as another knock sounds on my door. “Be right there!” I shout.

Owen stands slowly. “It’s important.” He extends his hand to shake mine, and I don’t really see a reason not to. “You’ll do what’s right.”

I free my hand and stop myself from wiping it against my jeans. “I said I’ll look at it. That’s all I said.”

He looks down at me pointedly while I pull up his file on my desktop. “Tell me, what did we miss in your car last time? Didn’t we have it in a few weeks ago?”

He frowns. “My car?” Then he breaks into a small chuckle. “Nah, that’s just for… purposes of, ya know, why I was here. You got me?”

Seriously? He needs to build an alibi for talking to me? This guy is nuts. “Totally got it.” I force a smile as I stand, round my desk, slap his shoulder, and open the door. “Glad you’re happy with our services,” I say as he walks through the now crowded waiting room.

He waves goodbye, not looking back at me.

Scanning the waiting room, I meet Chris’s gaze. “Patrick’s got me,” he says. “Almost done.”

I nod, Owen’s words still ringing in my ears.You’ll do what’s right.The bitter taste in my mouth has nothing to do with my subpar coffee. “Who’s next?” I ask. All the faces are familiar, and that’s no surprise. But there are a lot of people here this morning. Way more than had an appointment.

“Ms. Angela can go first,” Willow says.

I frown, looking down at the computer. “Ms. Angela?” She’s not on the schedule. Neither is Willow, but I can guess why she’s here. “What’s the problem?”

“Oh, you know. Oil change,” Ms. Angela answers.

“Already?” We had her during foliage, three months ago. “Got the warning light on?” I convinced her to upgrade to a newer model. She shouldn’t be having problems. That was the whole point. I look out the lot where she parked her SUV. “Gimme your keys,” I say, wiggling my fingers at her.

“I was here last,” she says. “Lynn was here before me and she said she has an appointment for her oil change, and Sophie needs to get back to the library, but she booked her inspection today. Maybe you can get started on them while we all just… chitchat.” She sits deeper in her armchair, crosses her hands in front of her belly, and smiles at me.

I can’t believe her. She didn’t see me this morning at Millie’s, so this is what happens? She holds her gossip court right here? “Need a refill on the coffee?” I ask, my hands on my hips, narrowing my eyes on her.

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