As Mac and Evan drift onto the back deck, I set my oven mitts on the counter and give Cooper a sidelong glance. He cocks a brow when he notices. “What?” he says defensively.
My answering smile is saccharine. “Still haven’t gotten my apology for the day.”
“Fuck’s sake. Are you seriously going to hold me to that?”
“Sure am.”
A few days ago, Cooper and I took a walk on the beach and had a long overdue chat. And it didn’t even take any urging from Evan or Mackenzie. My future brother-in-law and I were mature enough to know we needed to squash the beef. So I apologized for being a bad influence on Evan in the past, while Cooper apologized for confronting me outside my place of business and telling me what a horrible person I was. He then offered me the privilege of his friendship again, to which I’d laughed and informed him if he wanted the privilege of my friendship, he would need to apologize to me every day until the wedding. Whenever that’ll be. We’re on Day Four now, and I’m having a blast.
“Fine.” Cooper lets out an annoyed breath. “I’m sorry for telling you to fuck off and saying we weren’t friends.”
“Thanks, Coop.” I walk over to ruffle his hair. “Appreciate it.”
Mac returns to witness the exchange, laughing under her breath. “Cut him some slack, Gen. He promised to be nice from now on.”
I think it over. “Fine. I release you from your apology obligations,” I tell Cooper.
He rolls his eyes and heads outside to assist his brother.
“Need some help?” Alana appears at the open sliding door, uncharacteristically eager to help out. She practically grabs the potato salad bowl from my hand.
I stare at her. “Why are you being weird?”
Beside me, Mac peers past Alana’s shoulder toward the deck. “She’s avoiding Wyatt,” Mac supplies. “He’s glaring daggers at us right now.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or sigh. Whereas my love life finally straightened itself out, Alana’s seems to be growing ever more complicated. “What did you do to him this time?” I ask her.
She scowls at me. “Nothing.”
Mac lifts a brow.
“Fine.” Alana huffs. “I’m getting my left wrist inked for my birthday next week. So I had a tattoo designed.”
I’m confused. “And?”
“By someone other than Wyatt.”
I gasp. “No!”
Even Mac, who’s only lived in the Bay for a year or so, grasps the implications of that. Wyatt is the best artist in town. Going to anybody else for a tat is sacrilege.
“I’m allowed to use someone else,” Alana argues. “Preferably someone who doesn’t think they’re in love with me.”
“Guess you can’t go to Tate either, then,” Mac cracks, and she and I giggle.
Alana’s mouth twists in another scowl. She swiftly sets down the potato salad. “You know what? I’m not helping anymore. I hate you both.”
She stomps off, leaving us laughing in her wake. Through the sliding door, I see her march past Wyatt to join Steph and Heidi on the other side of the deck, where she tries to camouflage into the railing.
“Oh, the tangled webs we weave,” Mac remarks, still chuckling.
We step outside and start arranging the serving dishes on the table. Another folding table has an array of drinks, and a few coolers of beer sit on the floor nearby. Cooper goes to check the meat he’s grilling on the barbecue, while Evan wanders out with a stack of napkins and places them next to the pile of utensils.
“Where’s Riley?” he asks, glancing around.
I nod toward the yard below, where Riley and Tate are on the sand engaged in an animated conversation about sailing. Riley’s aunt Liz stands a few feet away, checking her phone.
“He told me he has a crush on a girl in his biology class,” I whisper to Evan, nodding at his surrogate baby brother.
“Oh, Becky? Yeah, I know all about her.”
“Becky? No, he said her name was Addison.” My jaw drops. “Oh my God. He’s turning into a little player.”
Evan grins proudly. “Good. Let him play the field a bit. He’s too young to settle down.”
I sigh, about to offer a comeback, when a flash of movement catches my peripheral vision. I turn toward it and suck in a breath.
“What the hell,” I hiss at Evan.
He’s still all smiles. “Harrison!” he calls to the khaki-and-polo-clad deputy who approaches the deck from the side of the Hartley house. “Glad you could make it!”
He invited Harrison? And he’s actually calling him by his proper name instead of some passive-aggressive taunt?
“Evan,” I growl softly. “What have you done?”
“Chill, baby,” he whispers back. “Just think of me as the love fairy. Spreading all the love around.”
What in the actual fuck. I’ve barely registered the absurdity of the remark before Evan is gone, sauntering down the steps toward the new arrival. I find my footing and hurry after him, prepared to do damage control. Just how much of it will be required? Undetermined.
I reach them in time to witness Evan clap Harrison on the shoulder and say, “Been wanting to introduce you two for ages.”
You two?
I blink in surprise as my crazy fiancé ushers Harrison over to Riley’s aunt and starts making introductions. Harrison and Aunt Liz? That’s just … genius, I realize. As my initial surprise wanes, it occurs to me that this might be the greatest matchmaking scheme in history. I’m almost disappointed I didn’t think of it first.
“Liz is, like, the best nurse ever,” Evan is raving. “At least that’s what I hear in all my nursing circles.”
I choke down a laugh and add to the pitch. “Harrison once carried a gator down from a roof with his bare hands,” I inform Liz.
Evan’s brows raise. “Seriously? Dude. I need to hear this story—”
“Another time,” I chirp, latching a hand onto his arm. “We need to finish bringing the food out first. ’Scuse us.”
With that, we leave a slightly dazed Harrison and an amused-looking Liz to their own devices.
“Damn, Mr. Love Fairy,” I murmur as we return to the kitchen. “That was some good thinking. They’re the perfect match.”
Evan nods vigorously. “Right?”
I’m grabbing the last of the condiments from the fridge when the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it,” he says before darting off.
I set down the ketchup and mustard bottles, then wipe my hands and go to see who’s at the door.
Standing in the doorway is Shelley Hartley. I haven’t seen Evan’s mother in … I don’t know how many years. She looks good, though. Like she’s taking care of herself. Her hair is no longer dyed blonde, but her natural dark brown. Her skin looks healthy, and her jeans and tank top actually cover all the important bits.
Last time I asked Evan about her, he’d said he wasn’t quite ready to spring her on me. Until now, it seems.
“I baked a pie.” She holds up a tin wrapped in foil. Then her smile falters. “Okay, that’s a lie. I bought it at the grocery store and rewrapped it. But it’s a start, right?”