Flirting with the Frenemy

by Grant, Pippa

  “Empty threats,” a pretty woman in jeans and a Shipwreck T-shirt says as she strolls in the door. “If you were going to set us up, you would’ve done it by now.”

  “Maybe I should practice on this young man.”

  Tucker giggles again. “I don’t want to fall in love with a girl. I’m only seven.”

  “Hmmm… Then maybe I should practice on your dad.”

  “He’s in love with his work.”

  Pop and his granddaughter both cough, identical blue eyes twinkling while I scrub my hand over my face to keep Tucker from seeing the irritation blossoming.

  His mother shouldn’t say things like that in front of him. I’m not married to my work.

  I have split priorities between family and country. Whereas she—

  Nope. Won’t help. Not going there.

  “Ah, a tough case,” Pop says. “Good. It’ll just prove to my grandkids that it can be done.”

  The woman rolls her eyes. “Have no fear,” she tells me. “You’re safe.”

  “You hungry?” I ask Tucker.

  “I was hungry back before we jumped over the alligators, but they scared the hungry right out of me. I could be again though. Let me check.” He pats his stomach. “Hey, belly, you want some food?” He cocks his head, then nods. “It says yes, Dad. We want more donuts.”

  We escape the matchmaking old man and head down the street to check out the wait at Anchovies, the pizza joint in the middle of Blackbeard Avenue. The hairs on my arms rise to attention a split second before I realize who’s in front of us in line.

  Ellie’s best friend.

  The bride.

  She’s in jeans today, but her T-shirt has a skull and crossbones on it, and she’s wearing pirate boots and parrot earrings.

  “Oh my gosh, it’s Ellie’s Wyatt,” she says.

  Fuck.

  Dammit.

  Small town. Guess it was bound to happen.

  The two men and the woman with her all glance back at Tucker and me, and I instinctively grip his hand tighter while I nod to her. “Morning.”

  “We’re not going to have to fight over who gets to sit with her, are we?” she asks.

  The Blond Caveman goes stiff, earning a suspicious look from the redhead with him, but doesn’t explain where Ellie is right now.

  “I love Miss Ellie,” Tucker declares. “She shares her donuts.”

  With some of us.

  I didn’t get any.

  The bride—Monica, I’m almost positive, who Beck’s mentioned a time or two, said she was Ellie’s best friend since college—squats down to Tucker’s level. “Do you want to sit with us so we don’t have to fight over her?”

  “Yeah! And I’ll share my shaker cheese with her to thank her for the donuts.”

  “Perfect. Jason, sweetie, make it a table for seven,” she tells the longer-haired blond holding her hand.

  “We wouldn’t want—” I start.

  “Don’t be silly. They have to push two tables together for a party of five anyway, so we’re being more economical. Plus, who wouldn’t want to eat with a kid this cute?”

  Tucker grins up at me with his crooked, oversized front teeth, unruly brown hair, button nose, and dirty glasses, and I can’t help smiling back.

  I should object more, but it’s likely me joining them for lunch will piss Ellie off.

  And that is my secondary job for the week, right behind having fun with Tucker and right before losing sleep to try to recover Beck’s high score on Frogger.

  Oh. And that whole playing her boyfriend thing.

  Which I intend to enjoy every minute of.

  Just to watch her ex squirm.

  If he hadn’t pulled the dick of all dick moves—who dumps someone on Christmas?—she wouldn’t have been at her parents’ place looking for someone to share her misery with.

  Easier to blame him the more I decide he’s a turdnugget.

  “How was the parade?” Monica asks Tucker.

  “Where’s Ellie?” Blond Caveman asks me while Tucker tells Monica he liked the parade.

  I know his name, but I prefer to call him Asswipe. Since I can’t do that in front of my kid, Blond Caveman it is.

  “She’s getting fitted for a peg leg,” I tell him.

  “Seriously, Patrick, I just told you,” Monica says with a sigh. “She’s parking her car and fighting with Grady about accepting a ride in a golf cart.”

  “You didn’t drive her?” Blond Caveman says.

  “She wanted to not share the rest of her donuts, since Cooper Rock delivered them,” Tucker announces. “He signed my pirate sword. I wonder if he signed one for Miss Captain Ellie too?”

  “Cooper’s signed tons of things for Ellie,” Monica tells him. “But she doesn’t usually keep them. She donates them to auctions for pet shelters.”

  “Like for dogs and cats?”

  “And sometimes goats and snakes and hedgehogs.”

  Tucker frowns, like he’s pondering a shelter for goats and snakes and hedgehogs.

  “I told you I could walk,” says a familiar voice that sets Dr Pepper buzzing through my veins.

  We all turn as Ellie gives an exasperated sigh, then leans over to hug the Rock guy who was supposed to be her date last night. He’s driving the golf cart that she’s climbing out of. “But thank you.”

  “It’s worth it just to watch you have to take help,” he tells her with a flirty grin, and I consider how much more attractive he’d be with a broken face.

  I scowl at him.

  He catches my gaze and winks. “Got a live one there, bro. Lucky man.”

  “What is with all the men in my life being ass—uming blockheads?” she finishes as her gaze lands on Tucker.

  “Hi, Miss Ellie!” Tucker calls. “Did you bring more donuts?”

  “Not unless we’re having pizza donuts for lunch,” she replies. “Did you beat your dad in golf?”

  “No.”

  “There’s always next time. High five for trying.” Her gait is stiff, but she’s smiling at Tucker like she can feel no pain and she bends over to high-five him.

  “Could you beat my dad in golf?” Tucker asks.

  “Every time,” she tells him.

  “Because I let her,” I add.

  With a smile.

  Like our relationship thrives on one-upmanship.

  “And isn’t that the sweetest?” she says tightly with a smile of her own.

  “Miss Captain Ellie, I want a llama someday,” Tucker declares.

  Ellie gasps. “No way. Me too! Aren’t they so cute?”

  “I’m going to name mine Llama Llama Ding Dong because my teacher plays that song all the time.”

  “You—I—do you know you’re freaking adorable?”

  “Yeah.”

  He grins. She ruffles his hair, then moves in to greet Monica with a hug. When she’s done, just to piss her off—and to watch the Blond Caveman fume too—I wrap an arm around her shoulders and kiss her flowery-scented hair.

  I have a role to play.

  I’ll explain it to Tucker later. Shouldn’t be too hard. We’re old friends.

  Not sure how I’m going to explain to my dick that we’re not doing this for real again, but it’ll live.

  “Enjoy your ride?” I ask.

  “Quit trying to help me walk. I can do it myself.”

  “I can help you walk, Miss Ellie,” Tucker offers.

  “Aww, that’s so sweet of you, but I have to eat with—”

  “All of us,” I interrupt.

  “We get to have lunch together!” Tucker says. “Captain Monica says so. Can you teach me to draw a—”

  “Pirate?” Ellie exclaims desperately. “Yes. I can teach you to draw a pirate. Or a parrot.”

  “The golf man’s parrot said a dirty word.”

  “Aw, Pop Rock’s working at Scuttle Putt today? His parrot usually does say dirty words. He’s a very salty bird.”

  Our table is called, and we head inside with Tucker proudly
holding Ellie’s hand. “Be careful, there’s a chair,” he tells her, steering her around one of the thick wood tables in the treasure-themed dining room.

  “Thank you so much, gallant sir,” she replies, then adds under her breath to me, “Why are you here?”

  “Serendipitous timing. And fate, of course. I sensed you’d be here, and I missed you.”

  She looks at me closer, and there’s a gleam in her eyes like she’s gearing up to top me in the lovey-dovey new relationship game.

  Which shouldn’t be a big surprise. She’s always been bright.

  “Here, Miss Ellie. You sit on the end so you can put your foot up if you need to.”

  Tucker helps her gracefully into a chair—as gracefully as a seven-year-old who barely hits four feet tall can—and gives her a funny look when she replies, “Thank you, kind sir, you may kiss my hand.”

  “It’s what gentlemen used to do for ladies,” I whisper to him.

  He wrinkles his nose at me like I’m asking him to hug an eel. “Dad, I like her, but I don’t want to kiss her.”

  “Here. No cooties. Like this.” I bend over, take Ellie’s hand, and press a loud, smacking kiss to it, but I also trail my fingers down her palm.

  Lightly.

  Where no one can see.

  Goosebumps visibly travel up her arm, and there’s a tremor in her hand before I lower it, still holding on.

  “See?” I say to Tucker. “Nothing to it.”

  I help Tucker into his chair on her other side and take the liberty of sweeping her short, dark curls back from her cheek before I pull out my own chair and sit.

  Something squishes under my ass, and I register cold liquid on my left butt cheek the same moment a woman behind me shrieks.

  I leap up as fast as I can, bumping into a passing server, who dumps a pizza all down the back of the woman who just got sprayed with—with what?

  Whatever it is, it’s red and sticky and why the fuck is there a bottle of ketchup in a pizza joint?

  “Oh my god, you sat on the French dressing!” Blond Caveman’s girlfriend says. Her eyes are round like she’s both horrified and trying not to laugh.

  “French—what?” Tucker asks.

  “The French dressing,” Ellie tells him, and I can hear her trying not to laugh as she scoots her chair, winces, and tries again to rise. “They put it on the pizza here, and—oh. Right. Bad time. Sorry.”

  “I’m so sorry. Oh my gosh, ma’am, I’m so, so sorry,” the server is babbling. “Sir. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how—why—”

  I try to help her pick up the pizza. “My fault,” I tell her. “Should’ve looked before I sat.”

  Ellie’s sucking her cheeks in, face pointed at the ground. Tucker looks like he can’t decide if he’s supposed to laugh or cry.

  “Daddy made a big boo-boo,” I tell him.

  “This isn’t funny,” Monica whispers, like she’s talking to herself, while her face contorts with the effort of holding in laughter.

  Her fiancé is on the ground helping me, lips twisted in a wry grin. “Could’ve happened to any of us, man. Ellie, sit. We got this.”

  A manager rushes over, and Blond Caveman’s girlfriend leaps into action, checking the woman behind me for pizza burns. “I’m a nurse,” she says, like she just remembered. “May I?”

  “Wyatt?” Ellie whispers in a strangled voice.

  “Yeah?” I grunt while I swipe at melted cheese on the old wood floor.

  “I’m sorry you’re having a shitty day.”

  All of a sudden, the woman we’ve accidentally assaulted with French dressing and pizza bursts into laughter. “What are the odds?” she says.

  “I’m really sorry, ma’am,” I say again.

  “Honey, I was just sitting here mad because I have to go see my sister-in-law, who’s always talking about all the terrible calamities that happen to her, like getting a wart on her knee, which is a pretty lame calamity, but that’s my sister-in-law for you, and now I got a story that’ll top her for life.”

  “Ma’am, we’re still going to have to comp your pizza and give you a coupon for more. And a free T-shirt,” the manager says.

  “Can I get one of those glow-in-the-dark cups and a pirate mug too? I’ll pay for it, but I’m telling her I got it all for free.” She cackles as she rubs the French dressing on her shirt with a napkin. “She’s gonna be so jealous.”

  “Her mug’s on me,” I tell the manager.

  “I’ll buy her an Anchovies hoodie,” Jason pipes up.

  “Put one of them squeezy treasure chests for her on my bill,” a grandma two tables over calls. “This is the best entertainment I had since Blackbeard stripped for me two nights ago.”

  Half the people in the restaurant groan. “Didn’t need to know that, Sandy!” someone calls back.

  “There are kids in this place, Nana,” the manager chastises.

  “A stress chest? That’s it?” someone else says. “Cheapskate. I’m getting a whole set of mugs for her.”

  “And I’m buying that table’s dinner,” another voice chimes in, pointing at us.

  “Root beer all around!” someone hollers.

  Despite sitting on French dressing for the next hour—the remains of which Ellie slathers all over her pizza and talks Tucker into trying too, after she’s taught him how to draw a pirate face—lunch is just as much fun as Scuttle Putt was, except with more sea shanties and souvenirs. Monica’s toned down the shrieking about Ellie and me dating, and instead is peppering me with questions about being a flight test engineer. Except for the occasional snide comment about my pay grade, the Blond Caveman keeps his attention focused mostly on his phone. Jason tells us all about the last time he went to Africa with the nonprofit he works for, and then brags on Monica’s recycled artwork.

  And Tucker gets to color a pirate ship that Ellie draws him on the paper placemat, which keeps him happy long after he’s done eating. He’s loaded down with more loot than he picked up at the parade by the time we leave.

  “This town is crazy,” I mutter to Ellie once we’re back out on the street, stuffed with the best thin crust pizza in the entire state.

  “Customer service and reputation above all else,” she replies. “Welcome to the Shipwreck family.”

  Two pirates on unicycles are juggling back and forth right in the center of Blackbeard Avenue, and the Sea Cow Creamery across the street is handing out free samples to anyone willing to shout Ahoy, matey! to distract them.

  Everyone’s smiling despite the pirate insults flying.

  Everyone except the Blond Caveman.

  He’s scowling at me.

  And I’m ignoring him.

  “You guys are coming with us to Cannon Bowl, right?” Monica says.

  “Wyatt promised Tucker a trip to Davy Jones’s Locker,” Ellie says with just enough regret in her voice that I almost hope Tucker announces he’d rather go bowling.

  He doesn’t, of course.

  Kid loves a good water park.

  But I make sure to kiss Ellie goodbye before the bridal party departs. A good kiss.

  The kind of kiss that suggests there’s more waiting where that came from.

  And fuck if I wouldn’t kiss her longer if I could.

  Blond Caveman glares at me.

  And I decide I’ll be perfectly content playing her boyfriend for the rest of the week.

  “Dad, friends kiss, right?” Tucker asks as we head to the car for the swim bag and more sunscreen.

  “Grown-up friends do sometimes, yes,” I tell him.

  “Does that mean you’re getting married too?”

  Fuck, I never should’ve gotten married the first time, but I thought it was the right thing to do. No chance in hell I’ll do it twice.

  I squat down to his level. “You know you’re number one in my life?”

  “Behind your job.”

  I shake my head. “I do my job to keep you and your friends and your friends’ families safe. Because I love you first, even w
hen my job keeps me away. I miss you every day. And I might have special friends come and go, but you will always be most important. Okay?”

  He frowns like he wants to ask more, but just says, “Okay.”

  And once again, I wonder how much I’m messing him up.

  But this is my life in the Air Force. I move. I make new friends. They leave. I make more friends. Then I leave. It’s the life a lot of military kids live too.

  You have to say goodbye a lot, but you meet a hell of a lot of good people along the way.

  I’ll miss it when I’m done, which will be sooner than I ever wanted, but the odds of me having a long career in the Air Force close to Tucker are slim to none.

  “We’re pretty dang lucky,” I tell him. “We got to share lunch with a bunch of people who think you’re awesome.”

  He grins at me. “That’s ’cause I am awesome, Dad.”

  He sure fucking is.

  Ten

  Ellie

  I spend the rest of the day feeling weirdly lonely despite being with Monica and Jason.

  Yes, and Patrick and Sloane too, but it’s weird to hang out with a man I’ve seen naked, knowing he gets naked for someone else now, so I’m concentrating on my best friend instead.

  And not on Wyatt.

  That kiss.

  Tucker and his sweet insistence that no one else could ever draw pirates like I could.

  “The parents get here tomorrow,” Monica tells me with a nose-wrinkle as we reach my car in the parking lot. She insisted on walking with me, and since we haven’t had much alone time the last few weeks aside from driving out here, it’s good to have a few more minutes of us time. “My mom still doesn’t understand the pirate wedding thing, but I think when she sees Jason sword fight the mutinous pirates who want to steal me after we say our vows, she’ll get it.”

  I laugh. “I love you.”

  “Of course you do. Everyone else you know is B-O-R-I-N-G.” She gives a mock eye roll, and we both crack up again, because there’s nothing remotely boring about the people I’ve known longest in my life.

  Beck and half the guys we grew up with have been world famous since before I graduated high school, and it hasn’t always been easy to find the true friends from the people who just want to get close to Beck and his Bro Code bandmates. But Monica’s all country, all the way, and she always has been. She couldn’t pick a boy band out of a lineup, and she’d rather drool over Orlando Bloom in Pirates of the Caribbean and Captain Hook from Once Upon A Time than check out my brother’s Instagram page.