I sighed and walked over to her. Her head popped up when I grabbed her arms to haul her to her feet.
"Where in the heck did you come from?" she groaned, brushing grass and dirt off the front of her shorts and tank top.
"I've been waiting out here for the last ten minutes."
"Ugh," she groaned. "I thought I beat you! I can't believe you cheated!"
"Cheated? Me?"
Her eyes cut toward me. "You left the radio on in your bedroom. You knew I'd think you were still getting ready."
"Sucker," I taunted.
"Shut up. Shit, I forgot my coffee." Sierra started to turn to go back into the house but I grabbed her arm. "Don't worry. I made you a travel mug. It's in the car. I also have a machine at the shop, so I can brew more later if I need to."
"I guess I can forgive you for cheating then," she muttered, turning to face me again.
In the bright morning sun, I saw that she had dark circles under her eyes, visible even beneath her make-up. She looked as if it had been days since she'd had a decent night's sleep. That worried me. Sierra might be a night owl, but she usually got a good night's sleep when she finally went to bed. Last night was a late one for both of us, but it usually took a few days before she looked this ragged.
Sierra walked past me to the car and plopped down in the passenger seat. She yawned as she buckled her seat belt.
Another shaft of worry pierced me.
I climbed in next to her and buckled my seat belt as well. As I backed out of the driveway, I said, casually, "Why didn't you tell me about Brian when you told me you wanted to come visit?"
Sierra shrugged and stared out the window. "There wasn't anything to tell. He thought we were serious, I didn't. I hurt him." Her head turned back toward me. "And I wanted to avoid the postmortem because it makes me look like an asshole." She paused for a second. "Besides, I was bored and it's been two years since we've seen each other. It seemed liked a good idea until today. If I'd known you were going to make me work for my room and board, I would've gotten a hotel room."
I ignored her blatant guilt trip because, well, she offered to help and I wasn't stupid.
"No other reason?" I asked.
"No," Sierra replied.
She fell silent, alternating between staring out the passenger side window and sipping from the travel mug I'd filled for her.
I wracked my brain for a roundabout way to ask for more details about the situation with Brian. Obviously, it was more than what she'd said at my parents the day before. Sierra had been my friend for almost a decade but she was still an extremely private person. She hated talking about herself and her personal problems. I'd often wondered if it was because her parents had been so distant when she was growing up and she was unused to talking about things that were bothering her.
"Yesterday's lunch was interesting," she commented as though she knew the direction my thoughts had taken.
I glanced at her. "What do you mean?"
"Just that you'd have to be completely and utterly oblivious not to feel the tension between you and Brody Murphy."
I bit back a sigh. It figured that she would bring that up before I could dig into whatever was bothering her.
"Brody and I have a history. He's my brother's best friend and my teenage crush-slash-nemesis. That's all."
Sierra twisted her head toward me and lifted a brow. "History? Oh, no, Cam. That wasn't history I saw yesterday. That was definitely something very current."
I ignored the little zing that zipped through my body at her statement. "Brody came by the shop last night to apologize."
"What? Why didn't you tell me when you got home?"
I grimaced. "I wanted to avoid the post-mortem. It was too gruesome for dinnertime conversation."
"What happened? Did y'all have another argument? Did you have angry sex in the kitchen?"
I pulled into the parking lot behind Crave and turned to gape at her. "Where did that come from?"
"Seriously?" Sierra asked.
"Yes, seriously."
She shook her head. "Don't act like you're ignorant to the fact that the sexual tension between you and Brody Murphy is off-the-charts. I think everyone at that lunch table yesterday knew it except for maybe his little girl and only because she's too young and innocent to understand such things."
"You are off your rocker if you think there's sexual tension between Brody and...and..."
"You?" she supplied.
"Yes!"
"I don't think I'm the one who's crazy if you're claiming that it's not true."
"It's not!" I snapped.
Sierra crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in the passenger seat. "Okay then. What happened?"
I mirrored her position. "He came by, I ignored him. He snuck up on me in the back and I tried to punch him in the face. Then we talked a little and he apologized. I accepted. It was all very civil and mature and I think we're going to get along much better now."
Sierra's expression was skeptical. "Oh, really?"
"Yes. Neither of us is a teenager any longer. We can be friends."
"If you say so," Sierra replied, unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing out of the car.
I turned off the ignition and followed her. "We can."
"Uh-huh."
"We can!"
She didn't bother with a verbal response, only moved to the back door and gestured for me to unlock it.
Grumbling beneath my breath, I stuck my key in the deadbolt and twisted it. We didn't speak as I headed toward the control panel for the alarm and entered the code to disarm it.
I set about turning on lights and brewing another pot of coffee when my phone went off. I tugged it out of my back pocket and glanced at the screen, surprised to see a text from Brody. Wait a minute, just last night he'd said he didn't have my cell phone number. That little shit.
HBA: Jacks is excited about her ice cream tasting. Also wants to know if she can help you make a new flavor.
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.
"Who's HBA?" Sierra asked.
I jumped and my heart kicked hard against my ribs. "What the hell, Sierra?! You scared me!"
"Who's HBA?"
"Brody," I replied absently, staring down at the screen as I thought about how I should respond.
"What's that mean?"
"Hot but annoying," I answered.
She hooted, a wicked smile gracing her face. "I knew you still had a thing for him."
"Acknowledging someone's hotness isn't the same as having a thing for them. It's like appreciating a work of art. You can think it's pretty without wanting to bone it."
"If you say so."
I ignored her and walked away, typing rapidly on my phone.
I should have known you were lying about not having my cell number. I make ice cream every Monday but I usually create the menu on Thursday or Friday if she wants to help me decide on a new flavor. Or you can bring her by next Monday and we can experiment.
I paused then deleted the last three words and instead typed - she can experiment with several different combinations.