Page 13 of Take Me (Cherry Blossom Lake #5)

The drive to Amity goes smoothly, all things considered. There was a moment of awkwardness when I dropped Scrumpy off at Annabelle’s place. She came to the door in a robe, barefaced, with her dark curls tousled.

“Thanks for bringing him by.” She’d held the robe closed at the tops of her breasts as I kept my gaze trained on her face. “We’ll make sure he has a great weekend.”

“We?” It was none of my business, but she said it.

A pretty pink flush rolled from her chest to her cheeks. “I have a guest this weekend. Don’t worry—he’s great with dogs. Scrumpy will get tons of attention.”

“Great.” A lumpy lead ball parked in my belly, settling in for a good long stay. “You look happy, Belle.”

“I feel happy.” She giggled and glanced behind her like her houseguest might overhear. “You look good, too. I’m thrilled about you and Erika.”

“Thanks.” I tried to look like a guy who fell head over heels for his friend. “We’re, uh…happy.”

“Outstanding.” She smiled so wide it took up her whole face. “Don’t tell, but we’ve hit the ‘I love you’ stage and I can’t stop grinning. Do you feel the same about you guys?”

“Oh, uh—yeah. Absolutely.” I felt like slamming my head in the door. “For sure.”

“Great.” She beamed. “So, everything’s working out.”

“For sure.” A sour ball stuck in my throat, slinking its way to my stomach. It stayed there the whole way to Erika’s place.

But now that we’ve been on the road a few minutes, I’m back to my old self again. Mostly, it’s the familiar rhythm of it all. We squabble good-naturedly over who gets to play DJ— her —who supplies snacks— me —and who pays for gas when we stop halfway there.

“And that’s why I always choose premium fuel instead of regular.” Erika re-buckles her seatbelt, concluding her lecture as well as our gas station wrestling match. “With a high-performance vehicle, it’s an important investment.”

I can’t resist poking the bear just a little. “Never had any complaints about my performance.”

Erika snorts and pops open a can of Pringles. “Laugh all you want, but my EcoBoost engine is in pristine condition.”

She and I drive the same model of Ford F-150, just different colors and years.

And she’s probably right about the fuel, but I’d rather keep trying to rattle her.

“My motor runs like a dream, my pistons are bulbous and big—” I don’t even know what a piston is, but she snorts so I keep going.

“And don’t get me started on the size of my crankshaft. ”

“Gross.” Erika stuffs a chip in my mouth, then takes one for herself. “I’m just saying. Thanks to quality fuel and good maintenance, you won’t hear any knocking in my engine.”

The setup’s too good to resist. “Knock-knock.”

She snorts again but doesn’t hesitate. “Who’s there?”

“Ike.”

“Ike who?”

“Ike can rock your world, baby.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

We’ve done this ridiculous schtick since we were kids, but something hits differently now.

The fact that we’ve kissed, or that I’ve seen her topless for one-tenth of a second?

My brain brews up the memory of her perfect round butt in those boy shorts, and I feel like beating myself over the head with the potato chip can.

Why is this weird, when we’ve seen each other in swimsuits six-million times? We paddle together on the lake every summer, with Erika in a bikini, I presume. I never really noticed. It’s not like I ever once stared at her ass.

Her words from last night bubble up in my brain.

“We’ve been friends for so long that we’ve never really noticed you have boy parts, and I have girl parts.”

I guess it’s just normal that I’m noticing now. It’s all part of having a fake girlfriend, right?

I reach over and turn up the A/C. It’s suddenly way too hot in here.

“Knock knock.” It’s Erika’s turn now.

“Who’s there?”

“Mike.”

Shit. We both know this one, and it’s ringing differently now.

But I’ve got a duty to see it through. “Mike who?”

“Mike Litoris.” She always adds this next part. “Bet you don’t have a clue where I am.”

“Har, har.” I’ve never felt the need to counter before, but I find myself blurting the words. “For the record, I could find it in the dark with both hands tied behind my back.”

Erika looks over and lifts one blond brow. “We’re speaking in general about the clitoris and not my?—”

“Of course.” For fuck’s sake, does she think I’m propositioning her?

But now that I’ve thought it, I can’t stop thinking about it. I need a non-sexual joke pronto. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Centipede.”

“Centipede who?”

“Centipede on the Christmas tree, and now it smells bad.”

She laughs like she always does, seeming relieved we’ve moved on from that sexually charged moment. Or maybe it’s just me thinking like that.

“Knock knock,” Erika says.

“Who’s there?”

“Helda Dick.”

I haven’t heard this one before. “Helda Dick who?”

“I Helda Dick and the wind blew it for me.” She cracks up laughing, smacking her knee with a palm. “Zoe told me that one. I’ve been waiting for the right time to share it.”

“I’m glad you did.” I’m really not. Because now, in addition to my awkward thoughts about Erika’s girl parts, I’ve got that mental picture in mind.

Combing my brain for another non-sexual one, I come up with an oldie.

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Disguise.” I’m not sure I’ve ever done this one with Erika.

“Disguise who?”

I unleash my best gangster accent. “Disguise is your boyfriend? You can do better.”

The second I say it, I wince. “Shit.”

“What?”

“I didn’t mean to make you think about Neil.”

“You didn’t.” Her forehead furrows. “I honestly haven’t given him much thought lately.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.” She gets an odd look on her face. “He texted again this morning, wanting to meet up.”

“He’s not coming to the wedding, is he?”

“No, I didn’t mean that. He just wants to see me, I guess. Get closure or whatever.” She shrugs in the corner of my eye. “Maybe I’ll meet him for a beer or something. Let him see I’m totally over him.”

“Are you?”

“I think so.” She doesn’t sound certain, but it’s better than how she seemed only a month ago.

“How about you?”

“Me?”

“How are you doing getting over Annabelle?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

Seeing her this morning stirred something inside me, though I’m not entirely sure what. Fondness? Of course, she’s a very kind person. Desire? Sure, she’s pretty, and it was only last week we were still sleeping together. A longing to get back together?

For the first time, I might be ready to admit we were never truly together. Not the way I wanted to be. I always hoped I could change that. That she’d grow to adore me like I adored her and we’d both?—

“Is that our turnoff?”

“Shit, yeah.” I hit my turn signal and swoop into the parking lot of Sunridge Vineyards. It’s less than two miles from Sam’s wildlife sanctuary, but it feels like a whole different world. “This place looks cool.”

“Doesn’t it?” She peers out the window at endless rows of grapevines and rolling green fields. A herd of shaggy alpacas stands grazing near a bank of brightly painted cabins. “Lucy says their wine is fantastic.”

“My sister knows everything,” I mutter. “By the way, she knows about us.”

“Us?” Erika turns back to face me. “What do you mean, us ?”

“That we’re not really dating. No one else knows, but I can’t keep secrets from my twin, so?—”

“Gotcha, yeah, I get it.” She stuffs one last chip in her mouth, then seals up the can. “I told my dad, too. He thinks it’s hilarious.”

Hilarious.

I shouldn’t take offense. It’s true that Erika and I are the last people on earth who’d ever be in a romantic relationship. There’s too much history, too much platonic connection between us. Why would either of us fuck that up?

“The wedding website says there’s a shuttle that runs between Sam’s wildlife sanctuary and the nearby lodging.” I follow the signs to reception, keeping my eyes on the road. “Could you check and make sure this is one of the stops?”

“On it.” She taps on her phone screen as I cruise down the gravel road. “Thanks again for suggesting this. I’m glad we can save a few bucks by bunking together.”

“No sweat.” It’s not like we’ve never done it before. “Helps with the ruse that we’re dating, right?”

“Totally.” She points to an empty parking spot, and I make a beeline for it. “This looks a lot nicer than the dodgy motel I’d reserved.”

“You Venmo’d too much, by the way.”

Rolling her eyes, she unhooks her seatbelt. “You drove and bought snacks,” she says. “It’s only a few extra bucks.”

“You can have the nicer bed then.” Whenever we’ve bunked together on road trips, she always claims the one by the bathroom.

“Deal.” She hops out of the truck and opens the back to drag out our suitcases. Raindrops spatter our shoulders as we sort out our stuff.

Erika loops a black garment bag over her arm. “This place is way bigger than I was expecting. How many cabins do they have?”

“Six or seven, I think. They keep adding new ones.”

“And there’s breakfast?”

“Yep. You pick what you want, and they bring it right to your cabin.”

“Cool.”

“I’ve heard the food’s really good.” When I made the reservation last month, Annabelle gushed at the photos.

“Oh, look!” She’d pointed at the photo on the website. “They have chickens and goats and cows. You know what that means?”

“Free vet exams for our hosts?” I guessed.

She laughed and swatted my arm. “Farm fresh breakfast in bed.”

Remembering that now makes my chest ache a little, but not like it did last week.

That seems like a healthy sign. As I shift my duffel bag onto my shoulder, I skim a series of hand-printed signs pointing us to the event pavilion and tasting room.

There’s another one directing us to the cabins, so we hang a right and skirt a series of gaping mud puddles.

Several more signs assure us we’re going the right way.

There’s one at the edge of the walkway, dripping with rain but declaring their breakfast offerings in colorful letters.

Organic omelets with goat cheese and fresh herbs.