Page 21 of Designing Love (Bluewater Cove #2)

MOVIE NIGHT

Ethan

W hen I finally shoulder the back door open, I’m balancing an unwieldy box of soft-close cabinet hinges and a guilty suspicion that Claire has already let herself in.

The suspicion proves correct: she’s perched at my kitchen island like a queen on her throne — ankles crossed on the stool’s lower rung, half-devoured chips spread before her, and a look that says she’s been plotting for at least twenty minutes.

“About time,” she calls, tapping a chip against the rim of a jarred salsa she must’ve pilfered from my pantry. “Bluewater Cove’s most elusive handyman finally returns.”

I drop the hinges with a thunk. “Pretty sure I texted you I was at Jenkins.”

“Text received. I still reserve the right to complain.” She gestures grandly to the other stool. “Plant yourself. We have matters of the heart and hinges to discuss.”

I raise a brow. “Those are normally separate meetings.”

“Tonight, they’re a combo platter.” Claire waves the chip bowl in my direction. “Dinner?”

“Kevin at Jenkins gave me a stale protein bar when the registers crashed. Chips are a clear upgrade.” I grab a handful and sit.

“So. Vancouver Girl. Status report.”

I try not to smile too broadly, which clearly fails because Claire’s grin widens. “Sophia’s good,” I say, aiming for casual. “She’s knee-deep in closing meetings, but we text often.”

“And?” Claire stretches the word like taffy.

“And…” I twist the cap off my water bottle, stalling. “I’m kind of… smitten.”

Her chip pauses midair; her mouth forms an exaggerated O. “Smitten? As in birds-singing, heart-skipping, can’t-focus-on-your-coding smitten?”

“Birds no, coding yes. It’s suffered terribly.” I rub the back of my neck. Saying it out loud feels weirdly vulnerable. “She’s the first woman I’ve ever been this easy around — like I can breathe normally, even in silence.”

Claire slaps the counter in mock offense. “Excuse me. We’ve cultivated a decade of top-tier comfortable silences. You wound me.”

“Claire, you’re my buddy.” I laugh, reaching for another chip. “Entirely different category.”

“Buddy.” She plants both elbows on the island, eyes wide with theatrical hurt. “Friend-zoned in my own kitchen. The betrayal.”

“My kitchen,” I remind her. “And, for the record, you kicked me to the friendship curb five years ago.”

She snorts, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a dolphin squeak. “Oh please. On our only date, you ordered water and spent twenty minutes explaining server uptimes. He waxed poetic about redundancy clusters.”

I throw my hands up. “I was nervous. Meanwhile, you rocked up with anchovy pizza. That’s a dealbreaker.”

“Anchovies are sophisticated,” she protests.

“Anchovies are sentient salt.”

Claire laughs so hard she snorts again. “Point is, we dodged a very fishy bullet.”

“Agreed.” I tap my chest. “Crewmates forever.”

She salutes with her chip. “So, this Sophia situation… It’s real?”

“It feels real.” I toy with the torn hinge box. “I don’t overthink with her. That’s… new.”

Claire’s expression softens, the teasing dialed down. “Smitten looks good on you, Reed.”

“Maybe. Still early.” I drain half my water. “She has to untangle that business with her ex. Sell her half, or dissolve the business or something like sign stuff, whatever. I’m sure he won’t make this easy.”

Claire pops a chip, chewing thoughtfully. “But she said she’s coming back?”

“Yeah.” The memory warms me from the ribs out. “She wants a clean slate — then back here on her terms.”

She raises her soda can. “To clean slates and smitten developers.”

I clink my bottle to hers. “And to buddies who raid my pantry.”

She grins. “Anytime, Coding Ethan.”

“Anchovy Queen.”

Claire reaches for another chip. “So, what exactly did you text today? I require details.”

I shrug. “Nothing crazy. She sent a photo of a Vancouver screamer — traffic backed up on Granville. I replied with a picture of the Miller House covered in scaffolding and said, ‘Wish you were here to supervise my questionable ladder decisions.’ She sent a laughing emoji and told me not to staplegun my foot.”

Claire sighs contentedly. “Adorable. You realize you’re building inside jokes already.”

“It’s… nice.” I allow myself a small smile. “I don’t feel like I have to translate myself.”

“Which is why you ordered water with me and ranted about uptime?” Claire teases.

“Exactly. You’re tech-fluent. Different rules.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m honored my friendship inspired rants about load balancing.”

I flick a chip crumb at her. “And you rattled off bird species for twenty minutes.”

“I was nervous, too!” She points a chip at me in accusation. “Besides, birds are majestic.”

“Birds scream at sunrise. At least servers are quiet.”

We fall into an easy silence, munching. I realize how content it feels to have someone here, filling the house with conversation.

Claire leans back, crossing her arms. “Be honest — how freaked are you?”

I consider. “On a scale of one to touching live wires? Maybe a six. I’m excited more than scared. She makes leaving sound temporary, like an intermission.”

“Good.” Claire’s grin softens into something proud. “Because you deserve a real shot.”

I swallow a lump of gratitude. “Thanks.”

She looks down, almost shy. “I’m happy for you. Even if it means my pantry raids might decrease when she’s back.”

I snort. “Promises, promises!”

She taps the hinge box. “By the way — when are you going back to work on the house?”

“We’re meeting with the mayor tomorrow. I’ll know then what’s happening with the plan to move forward.”

“Good. And hopefully Sophia will be back soon to supervise. Someone has to keep you from nailing your sweatshirt to the stud wall.”

“That was one time!”

A comfortable lull settles. Claire stares at her chip bag, then sets it aside, expression turning reflective. “You know, when we almost dated, I worried we’d wreck the friendship.”

“Same. Turns out we’re better at sibling snark than romance.”

“And now you’re smitten with someone who gets your weird quiet. That’s kind of perfect.”

I exhale, something loosening in my chest. “Yeah. Perfectly terrifying.”

She raises her soda. “To terrifyingly perfect.”

We toast again.

I swipe my phone from the counter and open my messages. A new text from Sophia flashes:

Sophia: Daniel is being an arrogant fool. Back at the negotiating table tomorrow. Hope you had a better day than me.

I frown unconsciously. Claire notices, nudging me. “Well?”

“Looks like she’s not coming back just yet.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It is what it is.”

I hesitate, then type:

Me: Rest well. You’ve got this. Bring back chips, Claire is emptying my pantry! ;)

Three dots bubble almost immediately.

Sophia: Will do! Say hi to Claire for me .

Claire whoops softly. “That grin could blind satellites.”

I pocket the phone, cheeks aching. “Guess we’re watching a movie tonight.”

She hops off the stool, brushing chip dust from her jeans.

I follow her into the living room. “Fine. Something light — maybe The Wedding Singer?”

Claire’s groan could register on the Richter scale. “An Adam Sandler romcom? Ethan, I just ate. My stomach cannot handle that much meet-cute.”

I cross my arms. “Think about the fantastic soundtrack.”

“ John Wick. Now THIS is art.”

“Bullets and brooding?” I shake my head. “Too bleak for a Tuesday.”

“Okay, compromise: Murder Mystery? Explosions for me, banter and kissing for you.”

I consider. “I do admire a healthy work-life balance.”

She flops onto the couch, victorious. “Grab the popcorn, Smitten Boy.”

I start to head for the kitchen.

She leans back and props her feet on the ottoman. “And if you quote too many scenes, I’m replacing your popcorn butter with anchovy oil.”

I stick my head around the doorway. “You threaten anchovies way too often for a normal human.”

She points an accusing finger, grinning. “That’s what happens when your ‘buddy’ calls you buddy in public when you’re supposed to be on a date.”

“Touché.” I disappear long enough to microwave popcorn, then return with the bowl. She snatches it like a dragon claiming treasure, but I scoop a handful first and hit PLAY.