Page 10 of The Ex Effect (Meet Cute in Minnesota #1)

Back in the day, Frankie was the worst for missing everything except her games.

Date nights, study times, appointments, homework.

Yes, I loved keeping a task list and schedule for myself, but when Frankie and I were together, I had this overwhelming anxiety to keep hers as well.

My life revolved around reminders—reminding Frankie about her math homework, or that she had to babysit her sister, or that we promised to help Peaches clean her yard.

Honestly, I wondered how adult Frankie made it on her own all these years without me being her personal assistant.

“It’s all good, I’ve got them.” Frankie waved away my hands. “Where we going?”

I pointed to the empty lawn chair. “Over by Sam.”

As we crossed the grass to the field, Frankie’s grin turned wide at my brother. “Sam Rose. Man, the last time I saw you, you were just getting your driver’s license.”

He grabbed the cupcakes from her with a thank-you nod. “Katey—sorry, Frankie. Last time I saw you, you were making out with my sister.”

I landed a hard slap on his chest.

“What?” He shrugged. “Would it have been better to say you were snot-crying on the curb?”

I felt the blood rise in my chest. But if the comment affected Frankie at all, she didn’t show it .

“See you still have that impeccable timing with humor, huh?” Frankie gripped the back of the empty lawn chair and watched the kids. “Which one of these little shits is yours?”

Sam pointed to the left field. “Number seven. Henry.”

“Ah, he’s cute.” Frankie crossed her arms. “Must look like your wife.”

Sam huffed. “Oldest joke in the world.”

“I’m not joking, though.” Frankie grinned.

It definitely felt like I was back in high school watching the two pick back up their love-but-mostly-fake-hate relationship.

For a second, it felt like no time had passed.

Sure, bitterness replaced sparkly feelings, but right now, it was a typical Saturday afternoon when my annoying brother and spunky girlfriend tried to out-jab each other.

With only one lawn chair, I stood next to Frankie. It took all of ten seconds for Frankie to get wrapped up in the game. “Come on, kids, you got this. Watch your instep! Dude, no. What are you doing? Don’t use your hands!”

Frankie ripped off her jacket, tossed it in the chair, rolled up her sleeves and… shit . Frankie’s white Henley was fitted, perfectly snug, and freaking hot. How did she get such defined forearms? Yoga? Weights? Carrying guilt for a decade?

Soon, Sam couldn’t sit still and paced next to Frankie.

Together they lamented about formation and push kicks and toe kicks and whatever-the-hell moves and agreed about not caring if the kids were in first grade, the ref should allow penalty kicks.

When Henry made a goal, Frankie stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled so loud it reached the clouds.

I checked my watch. “We should probably head out.”

“Ah. We’re good.” Frankie waved me away without removing her gaze from the field. Rude . “We can leave in like five minutes.”

My jaw flexed, and I sucked in my lips. People like Frankie disregarded time like they were brushing away a gnat. But time was everything . It maintained order. It kept things flowing. It showed respect .

Three minutes passed and my heartbeat kicked up an uncomfortable notch. “I really think we should go just in case we hit traffic.”

Now Frankie flicked me a side-eye. “On the way to Maple Creek? Really?”

“Minnesota construction season, you know?” I tried hard to swallow back the annoyance in my voice.

“You might have forgotten that while living in the big city.” Minnesotans liked to joke that we had two seasons—Snow and Construction.

But without knowing all the detours or road lane reductions, travel time could increase by ten or twenty minutes.

And if that happened, we’d be late. And if we were late, whispers would spread of me being untrustworthy and irresponsible and incompetent and?—

“Tommy and Olivia will be fine,” Frankie finally muttered, breaking my train of thought. “Just a couple more minutes. Game’s almost over.”

The heartbeat now thudded in my throat. “I know I’m only tagging along, but these are my clients and if I’m present, I absolutely do not want to be even a minute late.

Can we go? Now. Please.” I was not letting anything ruin my chances at executing this wedding.

Frankie’s give-a-shit-less attitude would not poison my good name, no matter how hard she might try .

I shifted toward Sam while tugging on my scarf. “Tell Henry I’m so proud of him.”

Frankie grabbed her jacket from the chair and patted Sam on the back. “It was mediocre seeing you again.”

“If by mediocre, you mean similar to the root canal I had last year, then agreed.” Sam’s eyes twinkled. “You two have fun. Mo—hit me up later if you want me to look at your car.”

Frankie dug keys from her pocket. “It’s just the spark plugs. I ran to the hardware store before I grabbed the cupcakes and got a replacement. Should only take me like an hour to replace.”

Wait… what? Frankie, a superb pain in my ass, had checked out my car, bought the parts, and was going to fix it? Everything stopped. But why? What did she have to gain by doing this? And yet, God, it’d be nice to have this fixed. “You…you don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Frankie shrugged and unlocked the truck door. “But I figure forcing you to listen to Bon Jovi during the photo shoot will be a little payback.”

My heart softened. More than I wanted. And way more than what I was comfortable with. I would not let my guard down, ever again. “You’re still listening to them?”

Frankie climbed in the truck and fastened the seatbelt. “Greatest band of all time, and I’ll never stop.”

As we rolled out of the parking lot, the tiny flicker of hope I felt disappeared the moment I checked my watch. I gripped the handle and tried to breathe out a shaky breath. If we were even one minute late, no matter how kind Frankie had been this last hour, I would lose it.