He laughs, low and wicked, as I rinse off in record time and dart out, leaving him under the spray.
“Now, let me try peeling potatoes again before I get interrupted by my insatiable sneaky link,” I mutter to no one, tugging on a pair of leggings for armor as I return to the kitchen.
Clearly, my body is not safe with this man if I’m not wearing pants.
The potato peels curl into a pile at my feet, the bowl on the counter slowly filling with bright orange flesh. My hands keep moving, but my mind drifts, ears tuned to the faint rush of water still coming from down the hall. How everything about this feels sogood.
And while it should feel ordinary. Simple. Nothing about him—about us—is simple.
I’m halfway through another sweet potato when the doorbell rings.
I freeze, staring at the door as if it’s going to tell me who is behind it. Then, wiping my hands on a towel, I force a smile onto my face and open it.
Maxine Palmer stands there, all glowing skin and unapologetic energy. She’s shed the sharp edges of her city armor for somethingsofter—an oversized sweater, worn-in boots, the kind of outfit you wear when someone makes you want to stay a while.
The second our eyes meet, it’s instinct. We squeal, rush into each other’s arms, and jump up and down like we’re twenty again. It’s loud, ridiculous, and everything you’d expect when someone reconnects with a missing piece of themselves. And that’s what Max is to me—home wrapped in a person.
Beside her is Eli. And when she says his name, her voice does that thing—bright and sharp with pride, soft with affection. “Eslin, this is Eli. Eli, meet my best friend, Eslin Saunders.”
Eli isbig.Tall, muscular, dark chocolate brown, long hair. Beautiful. I genuinely did not know lumberjacks came in Black but here he stands.
Eli extends a hand, warm, steady. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Likewise,” I say, and I mean it. He looks like every story Max has whispered down the phone finally found its shape.
I shake Eli’s hand, firm and polite, then drag Max into another hug—because one just isn’t enough. It’s been ages, but the second she’s in my arms, it feels like we’re those two college kids again.
At the start of summer, Max and I had plans to road-trip to Canada for a romance conference. But luck—or maybe fate—had other ideas. I got sick and couldn’t make it. Max, being Max, refused to cancel. She went on her own and wound up stranded in a ditch on the wrong side of the border with no friendly faces in sight. Lucky for her, Eli showed up. And seeing him now—andmore importantly, seeing the way he looks at her—I finally understand why she never came back.
As I’m showing Max and Eli to the guest room, timing betrays me again.
Grant appears. Damp hair pushed back, skin still flushed from the shower, dressed in a gray jogging suit that somehow makes him look both relaxed and devastating. He stops when he sees us, eyes flicking briefly to me before settling politely on Max and Eli.
“Company,” he says, voice low but even.
Max raises a brow, lips curving into something smug. “Well, well. Looks like I’m not the only one with surprises.”
I freeze, not sure how to handle this. Max has been so wrapped up in Eli that I haven’t exactly unloaded any of this onto her. Tatum and Holly have been the ones keeping me upright through the chaos. And now Dr. Mikari.
“So, uh, Max. This is Grant Mills. Grant, this is my best friend Max—and her boyfriend—”
“Fiancé,” Max corrects with a grin that nearly splits her face. My jaw drops, and before I can stop myself, I’m squealing, hugging her all over again.
When we finally come up for air, Grant extends his hand to Eli, then to Max, polite as ever. Max, of course, ignores it and pulls him in for a hug.
This part feels normal. The part where you introduce your boyfriend to your best friend, and they actually seem to get along. Where life feels easy, seamless.
Grant doesn’t linger, apparently he’s got cooking to do of his own. But he also doesn’t shy away from leaning down and kissing me goodbye—right in front of them. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
The smile that spreads across my face is impossible to fight. “See you tomorrow, Mister.”
The door clicks shut behind him, and I turn back to Max, still reeling from everything at once. She just levels me with a look, lips twitching into a wicked grin.
“Okay, bitch. I need details. I’ll even peel the potatoes.”
Chapter forty-eight
Turkey & Touchlines
