Page 54 of Best Friends for Never

I swear the world slows down as he closes his mouth around the straw, just like I swear I see his tongue poke out.

Don’t react. Don’t react. Do not react, Parker!

He takes a healthy sip, then lets out a loud and exaggerated “Ahhh.” He licks at his lips. “Refreshing.”

He sets my drink back down, and I glare.

“I hate taxes,” I mutter, scooting the lemonade closer to me so he can’t steal it again.

“Don’t we all.” He picks up his sandwich and takes a bite. “Holy fuck.” He moans, his eyes rolling back into his head. “This is fantastic,” he says around a mouthful of food.

It has no business being so hot, especially not when he has olive oil running down his chin, but it is. Itsois.

I reach for my drink, praying he’s too preoccupied with the sandwich to notice the shake of my hands, and gulp down half the cup in one go.

“So Greta said businesses, as in plural. This isn’t the first place you’ve fixed up, is it?” he asks after his second bite. I haven’t even picked up my sandwich. I can’t. I’m too busy watching him.

“No. I redid the bookstore, Fran’s, the frozen yogurt shop, and now this. It’s not much, but it’s helping them keep up with the latest trends.”

“And those rental properties, too, right?”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

I fidget in my chair, not liking where this questioning is going. Who’d have thought I’d be grilled so much today? “Some other projects here and there. Nothing ... big.”

“Hmm.” He picks up his napkin, wiping at his mouth. “Anyone I know?”

I sigh. “Just ask, Noel.”

“Fine.” He sets his napkin aside and sits back in his chair. “Did you redo my grandmother’s kitchen?”

I knew this question would come eventually. I’m not surprised Gran didn’t mention the renovation to him. I visit her at least once a week, and we have a very firmNo Noelpolicy. We don’t talk about him at all—not a peep. We keep it strictly about us and the bond we’ve formed over the years. Sure, that bond exists because of Noel, but when we’re baking in her kitchen together, we pretend he never lived there at all.

“I did.”

“How much?”

I jerk my head back. “What?”

“How much did she spend on it?” he asks, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I want you to refund her.”

There is no way he just said what I think he did. “Excuse me?” I ask.

“She doesn’t need to spend her money on things like that. So, how much was it? I want to pay for it. I can transfer it now if you know your info, or write you a check this afternoon, whichever you prefer.”

“You think ...” I inhale sharply, trying to calm myself. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation right now. “You think I’d charge your grandmother for a remodel? I practically grew up in that kitchen. She’s the sole reason I even know how to make scrambled eggs. I didn’t charge Gran a dime for that.”

“Fine. Then what did you spend on it? I’ll pay you back.”

“I don’t want your money, Noel.”

I don’t even bother trying to hide the venom in my words. How dare he think he can come in here and throw his money at me.

He tosses his phone to the table with a heavy sigh. “Then what do you want, Parker? Huh? You keep going around, doing all these great things, like resurrecting the theater, taking care of Gran’s house, and putting fresh flowers on my parents’ graves. What is it you want?”

“You! I want you!”

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