Page 6 of Across the Boards

Sarah and Brody exchange a look that raises every red flag in my arsenal.

“No one,” Sarah says too quickly. “So, why exactly are you shirtless in my best friend’s kitchen at 8 in the morning?”

“I locked myself out after my run.”

“And naturally, you came to Elliot for help.” Sarah’s smile is pure mischief. “How neighborly of you both.”

“I’m letting him use my patio to break into his own house,” I clarify, pouring Sarah a cup of coffee. “That’s it.”

“Mmhmm.” Sarah accepts the coffee without taking her eyes off Brody. “And the shirt situation?”

“I always run without one,” he explains with a shrug that does unfair things to his shoulder muscles. “Better aerodynamics.”

I snort into my coffee. “Is that the scientific term?”

“Absolutely.” His grin is infectious. “I read it in... Sports Illustrated.”

“Very academic source, I’m sure.”

Sarah looks between us like she’s watching the world’s most entertaining tennis match. “Well, don’t let me interrupt whatever this is.” She gestures between us. “I just came to deliver birthday pastries and gossip.”

Brody’s eyes widen. “It’s your birthday?”

“Don’t make it a thing,” I warn.

“It’s absolutely a thing,” Sarah counters, opening the bakery box to reveal an assortment of pastries that make my mouth water. “Turning thirty-six deserves celebration.”

“Thirty-six?” Brody looks at me with new interest. “I would have guessed…”

“Careful,” I say, reaching for an almond croissant. “That sentence rarely ends well.”

“I would have guessed younger,” he finishes with a wink.

Sarah laughs. “He’s good.”

“He’s practiced,” I correct, but can’t help the small smile. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask him. “A training or a... whatever it is hockey players do in the morning?”

“Practice isn’t until 11,” he says, helping himself to a chocolate-filled pastry. “But I should probably try to break into my house before the neighbors call the HOA.”

“Mrs. Abernathy already saw you,” I inform him. “You’ve got about twenty minutes before the emergency meeting is convened.”

He winces. “That bad?”

“She heads the committee on ‘neighborhood decency.’” I make air quotes around the phrase. “Your shirtless presence has probably violated at least three bylaws.”

“Then I better make my escape.” He drains his coffee cup and sets it in the sink—actual points for that—then moves toward my patio doors. “Thanks for the rescue. And the coffee.”

“Don’t make it a habit,” I call after him.

He pauses at the door, that infuriating grin back in place. “The rescue or the coffee?”

“Either. Both.”

“No promises.” He winks before disappearing onto my patio.

Sarah and I watch through the glass as he easily vaults over the low fence separating our spaces, then uses some kind of acrobatic move to climb into his own window.

“Show-off,” I mutter.

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