Page 22 of Double Puck

His mouth twitches.

I tighten my grip on the railing. “When your family name is lit up above luxury hotels, people don’t always want to know you because they like you. At boarding school, girls wanted invitations to my mother’s events or weekends at one of our resorts. One of my boyfriends asked whether my family could upgrade his parents’ anniversary suite before he asked what I wanted for my birthday.”

Beck winces. “Please tell me you dumped him.”

“Nah. I just charged him the standard room rate.”

“That’s my girl.”

I ignore the warmth that slides through me. “Eventually, I learned that friendship usually comes with a catch.”

“But Josie didn’t.”

“No.”

She had simply appeared beside me one afternoon with two coffees and announced that if I was going to glare at Declan’s statistics for another hour, I should at least hydrate properly while doing it.

“She never wanted anything from me,” I say. “She just… liked me.”

“So you had one real friend in Beachside,” he says slowly, “and then you recommended trading her boyfriend's brother?”

“I was doing my job.”

“And so is she.”

I cut him a glare. “Whose side are you on?”

“Mine. Always.” The grin finally returns, sunlight catching in his eyes and making them sparkle. “But my side currently benefits from you being emotionally unstable and desperate enough to keep at least one Morrison-adjacent person in your life.”

“I am not emotionally unstable.”

“Your emergency contact lives miles away, your building manager has your spare key, and nobody sends you memes.” He lifts his invisible clipboard again. “Darcy Madden, your social audit is catastrophic.”

"Gee. Thanks."

He bumps his shoulder against mine, light enough to tease as we turn around to begin stretching before the run back.

“Well, Spreadsheet. At least now you have someone to call if you get arrested.”

I glance over at him. “You?”

“Obviously.”

“I'm fairly sure you're significantly more likely to be arrested with me.”

“Exactly. Then you won’t have to waste that call on anyone.” His grin is bright, careless and completely impossible to resist. “Now come on.” Beck pushes away from the railing and starts jogging backward in front of me. “You promised me breakfast, and Goldie’s cinnamon-roll pancakes are an essential part of my recovery plan.”

“I promised you absolutely nothing.”

“You scheduled me before sunrise. Breakfast is damages.”

He spins around and takes off toward the warm glow of Goldie’s, where trays of delicious cinnamon rolls are no doubt appearing behind the glass.

“Try to keep up, Spreadsheet!”

“I’m the one assessing your speed!”

“Then you should probably stop ogling my ass!”