Page 93 of Best Friends for Never

“Axel Joseph Cooke!” his wife admonishes, and he ducks his head.

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him even the least bit scared, and I can’t help but laugh.

He cuts me a glance, but it doesn’t even bother me.

Not tonight. Nothing can mess this night up.

Chapter Fourteen

Parker

“Well, that went to hell real fast.”

I groan, dropping my head into my hands as we walk down Axel’s driveway.

It’s nearly 2:00 a.m., and we’re just now leaving. About thirty minutes after Noel got there, all hell broke loose.

“You aren’t kidding. I’m just glad Matilda’s okay. And Axel too,” I say. “There was so much blood.”

“Nothing a few stitches can’t fix for the both of them,” Noel tells me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and dragging me to his side. I snuggle against him, his warmth and cologne enveloping me like a safety net I so desperately need right now. “She’s little but tough. She’ll heal up okay. And Axel will be fine too.”

“I know. Just scary, you know? And it could set us back a few weeks at the theater while his hand heals.”

“Nah. I’m sure he’s got his crew on it. Besides, you two have built a great business together. It’s not all going to fall apart because of this.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I sigh. “I can’t believe we didn’t even get to eat dinner. But that lasagna was ...”

“Charred? Completely burned to a crisp?”

“So, so burned. Does it make me a bad godmother if I was almost as upset over the lost dinner as I was about her getting hurt?”

I laugh. “I think it just makes you hungry.”

“Ugh.Sohungry. I wish we had a twenty-four-hour diner around here.”

“I doubt we’d get as much foot traffic as you think.”

“Probably not, but it would cure my sudden need for bacon and eggs. Oh, and potatoes. No, wait. Biscuits and gravy. And wa—”

“Come back to my place.”

I halt, pulling him to a stop along with me. “What?”

“Come back to Gran’s with me. She’s got all those things and more in her fridge, and I can whip you up something to eat. I’m guessing since everyone else around town feeds you regularly, you don’t have much at your house.”

I don’t even bother trying to deny it. “I have a couple of eggs, if we’re lucky, and some ketchup. Maybe mayo. But that’s it.”

He shakes his head with a grin, swinging us in the opposite direction we were headed. “Then it’s settled. We’re going to Gran’s, and I’m making breakfast.”

“Are you sure Gran won’t care?”

“Nah. Not one bit. Hell, she’s so excited to have me home, she might just get up and make us food herself.”

“Noel!” I poke at his stomach.

“Hey, hey.” He tries to dodge me, but it’s useless. “I’m kidding!”

He is, and he isn’t. There’s no denying how much Gran loves having him here—we all do.

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