Page 67 of Casita Casanova
I scoff.
“I knocked.” She shrugs, then proceeds to open his laptop.
“And then you just came in?”
“No, I knocked onyourdoor. When you didn’t answer, I came here.”
“Did you knockhere?”
She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes as she considers the question. “Huh. No, I guess I didn’t.” She shrugs, like walking in on my renter would have been totally acceptable. She starts to pull the laptop open—
I fly into the room and slam it closed, then grab it and hold it close to my chest. “Out.”
She curls her lip at me as she stands. “You’re no fun.”
“Danielle.”
“I’m going.” She steps outside, waiting for me with a shit-eating grin on her face.
I set the computer down, then freeze. “Where did you find this?”
“On the bed.”
I move it to the center and hope that’s where Cas left it, then hurry outside and shut the door quickly behind me. I need to get a new lock put on this door. “What are you even smiling about?”
“You’re very protective over Captain Big, Long, and Girthy.”
“Oh my God.” She might be the actual worst. Shaking my head, I grab my best friend by the wrist and pull her toward the house, then drop her hand and climb the steps. “Stay.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After I turn off the music, I grab the picnic bag and throw my sunglasses on, then lock up and link my free arm through my best friend’s. “You’re terrible, you know that?”
“I would have gotten away with it, if it wasn’t for those pesky kids.” She winks. “What are we drinking today?”
“Rosé.”
“Nice choice, MaRo.”
We leave the backyard and head down the stairs. The beach is busy, but not so much that we can’t find a spot to set up at the base of my beach access stairs. It’s early summer; some schools are still in session, so I like to take advantage of these quieter days. Come June, the beach will be packed, right up to my stairs.
“Okay,” Danielle says as we lay out our towels, “Are you going to tell me about him? His room smelled divine.”
“Oof, I know. He smells so freaking good…” I close my eyes on a long blink, then shake my head. “Nope. We’re not doing this.”
Danielle settles onto her towel, looking up at me as I pull off my cover up. “Not doing what?”
“Talking about him.Gushingabout him.” I sit beside her and take the insulated mug she hands me full of pink wine. “Thank you.”
“Why aren’t we gushing?”
“Because he’s a child.”
“Twenty-nine is hardly a child, Maryn.” She sips her wine, watching me with those knowing eyes only a best friend can have. “Oh wow. You actually like him.”
“Stop, of course I don’t.”
She laughs, getting a kick out of my ridiculous predicament. “You totally do.”
