Chapter Twenty-One
Harper
After dropping Max off with his hungover dad on this beautiful Saturday morning, I head in to work. I haven’t heard from Latham since dinner last night, but I wasn’t expecting to either. He’s working today, and the hardware store opens two hours before my own shop. Before he left last night (and after kissing me soundly on the porch the moment we were alone), I promised to text him later with details on lunch tomorrow.
“Please tell me you brought coffee and something sweet,” Free says as soon as I step through the front door, carrying the white bag and a tray of coffees.
“Your wish is my command, fair lady,” I answer, meeting her at the counter.
“You’re the bestest best friend in the whole world,” Free gasps before taking a bite of the homemade cinnamon roll I brought from the coffee shop. Their rolls are good, but not as amazing as Marissa’s.
“I know,” I tell her, depositing my purse under the counter and smiling widely.
“Why do you have that face? What did you do?”
I glance over my cup at my friend. “Me? Nothing,” I reply, using my coffee to hide my smile.
“Mmhmmm, I don’t believe you. Spill,” she says, setting her roll down and taking a drink of her coffee.
“I just dropped off a fresh cup of hot coffee next door,” I answer with a shrug.
Free’s eyebrows pull together and an evil smile crosses her pretty face. “And this fresh cup of hot coffee is funny…why?”
“The cup of coffee isn’t funny at all,” I defend, making sure everything is set for the day. Free already had the sales program up and running, as well as the open sign flipped.
“What did you do?” she whispers, her eyes twinkling.
“Nothing. I know he puts just a little sugar in his coffee,” I say, leaving my statement open.
“And…” she hedges impatiently.
“And…he won’t find any sugar in the break room.”
“Because…”
“Because I think someone replaced it with salt.” There. Said it.
Free bursts into fits of laughter. “Oh, you’re evil. Do you know what you’re like when someone messes with your morning coffee?” she asks.
“Yes, I know, which is why I did what I did. A cup of coffee for a cup of coffee,” I vow.
“Is this about the spilled coffee thing?”
“YES!”
“He didn’t spill it on your samples,” she reminds.
“Yes, I know that, but it was practically his fault.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
That makes her laugh that much more. “I think the real reason you keep doing these little things to each other is because you like each other. It’s the classic tale of when the little boy likes the little girl and pulls her hair or throws rocks at her.”
I stop and think. “I haven’t thrown rocks at him yet.” Under my breath, I add, “But he has pulled my hair.”
“Stop it with the kid games and just admit that you like him. I mean, you are sleeping with him, right?”