Page 11

The counter was a hodge-podge of sauce bottles, and cutlery stands. I spotted the top of Eve’s head in the middle of it all. She leaned over, writing something on her order pad. I never had trouble finding my best friend. Her hair was candyfloss pink for spring. She changed it every season. Next would be green for summer, orange for fall, and blue for winter. With the amount of peroxide it took to fulfill her technicolor whims, I was surprised her hair hadn’t snapped off.

Hearing the bell, she glanced up, then threw me a grin and a wave. I smiled, too. Eve and I had been through a lot together. First dates, first kisses, first disastrous attempts at losing our virginity. But I’d never told her about the kiss with Brody. Or about him leaving town without even saying goodbye. I trustedEve, but I didn’t want her asking questions. Or prodding and poking at my long-buried feelings.

She held up a palm to me, five fingers outstretched. We’d kept our Wednesday breakfast meets for almost two years, even before Eve started working here. With a nod, I wandered to the other side of the diner.

A family of four sat in our usual booth, making their way through a jumbo pancake stack. The one next to it was free, so I popped my bag on the table and slid in. The cushion on the seat had seen better days, and the second I settled, a loud farting noise ripped through the hum of the diner.

At least three heads bobbed up, their eyes finding me like magnets. Awesome! A pocket of air must be trapped under the leatherette, and now everyone was going to think I needed a solid dose of Pepto Bismol. I could have brazened it out, looking to nearby diners to shift the suspicion onto them. Instead, I rummaged in my bag, cheeks ablaze. Typical of me to pick the one booth in the joint that had a flatulence problem.

“Hello, Dita Von Tease!”

My head lifted. Eve grinned as she approached the table. She balanced a big plate of cinnamon rolls on the inside of one arm and, in each hand, clutched a pink metallic cup loaded with vanilla milkshake.

“It’s nice to see you’re not tempting the customers this morning. Not accidentally tipping the water jug over yourself so they can see what amazing boobs you have.” Her eyes glowed with mischief.

“Eve,” I pleaded. I’d had enough of being teased already this morning. Even the upholstery was mocking me.

She put the drinks and buns on the table with a soft clunk. “No, really, I didn’t know if I’d have to pass out horse blinkers before you arrived. Can’t have you distracting the customers from their food.”

Eve wiggled her eyebrows, and I rolled my eyes. I’d given in to temptation after my shower and texted her again last night. Told her all about my DIY kitchen dousing-by-slushie incident. She’d asked a million questions that I’d been too tired or too stunned to answer, so our breakfast was likely to be on par with the Spanish Inquisition. I omitted the part about Brody’s tight, very low-slung track pants. I didn’t think she needed the visual stimulation.

Eve took the seat opposite, withnofart noises. Of course not. It was the kind of thing that only happened to me. As the only owner of a tooting seat in the vicinity, I’d have to keep any movement to a minimum.

I looked down at the rolls, my belly rumbling. I’d already had two of Gran’s chocolate muffins, but the Swallow’s cinna-rolls were legendary.

“I added extra icing sugar today. Figured you could do with a boost after your shock last night.”

I grinned at Eve, picked up a bun, and took a huge bite, coating my lips in sweetness. The buttery, cinnamon goodness melted onto my tongue, and I swiped the back of my hand across my mouth.

“So?” Eve asked. Her eyes were wide, and she laid her hands flat on the table as if getting a manicure.

“Yeah, the extra sugar’s amazing.”

“No! Not the sugar, silly. I want to know what it’s like to have the hottest man in the NHL sleeping in your house? Waking up next to you?”

I huffed, sending a fine spray of said sugar into the air. “Evie, he’s not waking up next to me.” Technically, he was waking up under me. I mean, it counted for something.

She shrugged, helping herself to a bun. “Well, almost. What’s a few stairs between friends?”

“And he’s here to see Coop, not me.”

Eve chuckled around a mouthful of bun. “Sounds like Flock’s seen enough of you already.”

I scrunched up a napkin and threw it at her grinning face. It was weird to hear her call him by his team name. For me, he’d always be Brody.

“He’s not here because of his injury, though, right? He’ll be going back to train for the new season soon?” Eve was hockey-mad. More specifically, Flock-mad. She would knowallabout his leg.

But honestly, what was the big deal? Hockey players were always picking up injuries, weren’t they? “I guess so. He doesn’tlookunfit to play.” Quite the opposite.

Eve swallowed her mouthful. “I read some clickbaity article online that said his bones haven’t mended. Like the smash weakened his leg or something.”

I scoffed. “People can say anything they want online. I’ve seen Brody’s legs.” Eve’s eyes widened. “Inclothes, Eve. And they look anything but weak.”

She slumped back in the booth, again, fart-noise free. “Well, I want to get to the bottom of it. A mega sports star doesn’t just arrive in a pokey town like this without a reason.”

“Well, feel free. You know where he’s staying.”

Far too close for comfort.