Page 122 of Come Back to Me

Once we arrive at the Seven Cs, Cody’s out of the driver’s seat before I can stop him—the door’s held open for me and he catches my eye before he takes off for town again.

(Goddamn chivalrous jackass.)

I do not watch them go.

I don’t.

“A police escort? What have you been up to?”

Twisting around, I find Zee sitting on the small veranda out front.

The main entry is mostly taken up by two grand pieces of topiary, but there’s a tiny porch swing to the side—that’s where my BFF’s spying on me from.

Walking up the steps, I haul out the extra-large pack of trail mix from my tote and toss it at her once I’m close enough for it to smack her on the chest.

She opens the main packet and retrieves a smaller bag. “Thanks, babe.”

“I shouldn’t have eaten your stash.”

“Not like you to binge on healthy stuff,” she points out.

I shrug—she’s not wrong. But I still managed to consume four-thousand calories, so it isn’t exactly a win for my hips.

“Why are you sitting outside?” I inquire, wanting to change the subject.

“Pretty day.”

“Since when do you sit outside?” For a rancher’s daughter, you’d think she’d be more adept with the great blue yonder. Instead, she hates bugs more than I do.

“I’m a natural camper.”

“Camping has nothing to do with anything,” I say wryly as I plunk my ass on the seat beside her, falling into her rhythm as she starts up the swinging motion.

“Parker called and I decided to take it out here.”

“I need to talk to Parker.”

“She said you haven’t spoken in a while.”

“Been busy. She okay?”

“Yup. Same as always. What’s with the police escort?”

The question has me delving into the bag of trail mix. Snagging three packets, I fill her in on the morning’s happenings. Everything from Elena’s episode to Cody’s belief that Clyde killed his elder brother and onwards to the brat who was arrested and with whom I shared a cop car.

Half-expecting more of an interrogation, Zee takes me aback by inquiring, “You haven’t told Parker about Cody, have you?”

I tip my head back to let the crushed pieces at the bottom of the packet tumble into my mouth.

“Tee.”

“What?” Ignoring her, I tear open a second packet.

“Why haven’t you told Parker any of this?” When I don’t answer, she snatches the trail mix out of my hand. “I’m holding this hostage until you answer.”

I harrumph. “I don’t need the calories.”

“Sure you do. Your phat ass is less phat and more skinny than before.”

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