Page 52 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

“For the record,” Conner brushes grass from his shirt, “we can barely stand each other.”

“Sure you do,” I grin. “Keep telling yourself that, bro.”

“Takes one to know one,” he elbows me with a knowing look.

We lay there, staring up at the stars peeking through the branches, and for a moment, everything feels okay.

“Glad you’re home,” I whisper.

He bumps my shoulder gently. “Missed you too, sis.”

Chapter 14

Asher

“So,what’syourplanhere?” I settle back in my chair, studying my two oldest friends.

The morning light spills through the tall windows of Brewed Awakening, catching on Xander’s Rolex Day Date. He taps the rim of the coffee cup, suit barely creasing.

Conner leans back, crossing his arms behind his head like he owns the place instead of sitting in a small-town café. “Local business opportunities.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Since when are you into small-town anything? I remember you just bought out a tech company in New York. And didn’t you take a major stake in that luxury athleisure line last year?”

He glances out the window for a second, then hooks it back into a crooked grin. “Figured Frosthaven could use some excitement. It’s got potential. Just needs someone to shake things up a little.”

His confidence isn’t surprising. After his hockey career ended early due to injury, he pivoted to business with Xander’s help, building an impressive portfolio of companies in just a few years. The former athlete turned entrepreneur had always landed on his feet.

“Your version of excitement once flooded the high school gym,” I remind him, fighting back a grin at the memory.

“That was a mechanical malfunction!” Conner straightens in his chair, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he tries to maintain an innocent expression. “Besides,” he smirks, looking between me and Xander, “pretty sure you two were right there with me, planning the whole thing.”

“The sprinklers were set to spell out your name, Con.”

“A very sophisticated mechanical malfunction.” He turns to Xander. “Back me up here, X.”

Xander doesn’t look up from his perfectly pressed napkin. “I seem to recall spending three hours helping you program that malfunction while Asher played lookout.”

“Traitor,” Conner mutters, flicking a sugar packet at Xander.

“Some of us grew up,” Xander says, brushing off his sleeve.

“And some of us grew boring. Seriously, X, did your personality get lost in one of your offshore accounts?”

I hide my grin behind my coffee cup. We’re still bickering like we’re ten, just like when we used to cram into my dad’s garage, plotting our next dumb idea.

“What about you?” I turn to Xander, watching him adjust his cufflinks. Time’s turned the kid who used to shoot hoops in my driveway into someone from the Financial Times. “Didn’t expect to see you back here.”

Unlike Conner, who at least dragged his retired-hockey-star self home for holidays and the occasional town festival, Xander had vanished into boardrooms and billion-dollar deals. Hadn’t even shown up when he made partner at Morgan & Stanley, though his face was plastered across every business magazine in the country.

“Thinking of selling the old house,” Xander says, knocking back his espresso like it’s whiskey at a business deal gone south.

Conner’s head snaps up, and we share the kind of look that comes from twenty years of knowing when something’s about to hit the fan. That house has been a ghost in our rearview since he left town.

“Now? What changed?”

Xander leans back, his shoulders rigid against the chair. His jaw clenches, and that old scar by his collar stands out. “Time to clean up some messes.”

“Some messes?” Conner plants his hands on the table, dropping the class clown act. The same intensity that used to make opposing teams back off on the ice hardens his features. “Or some people?”

---