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ONE
ANNIE
“Why isLee running down Main Street with no pants on?”
My head whipped up from my vanilla oat milk latte in time to see my very fast, veryundressedbest friend running down the town’s main thoroughfare.
Morning sun streamed through the trees that lined our small-town’s sidewalks and everyone outside gaped at Lee hauling ass.
I tracked him as he dodged pedestrians and concrete planters with both hands cupped over his privates and wearing nothing but worn, untied work boots.
A low whistle came from my friend Emma. “God DAYUM!”
“Gross.” Kate Sullivan, Lee’s sister, twisted her face in disgust.
I nudged Emma, willing my eyes to not stray to the rounded muscles of Lee’s butt as he ran past us.
Sitting outside the Sugar Bowl, Kate, Emma, and I watched in mild horror as Lee made impressive time streaking through town.
Kate shook her head and took a bite of a strawberries-’n’-cream scone.
“You think the Kings have something to do with it? Maybe they found out the rowdy bachelorette party at Abel’s Brewery was really Lark’s actor friends.”
Life in Outtatowner, Michigan, was weird. It was a gorgeous coastal town in Western Michigan. Its quaint town square and walking distance from some of the world’s most beautiful sand dune-lined beaches meant Outtatowner was a haven for tourists escaping Chicago and the surrounding areas. But if you were a townie, you knew the feud between the Sullivans and the Kings was generations old.
For years the families went round and round with increasingly ridiculous pranks. It wasn’t just TP-ing houses or lining a yard with two thousand plastic forks. It was covering an entire car in Crisco. Wrapping every visible inch of Royal King’s tattoo shop in baby shower-themed wrapping paper. Hosting a bachelorette party at a brewery ... complete with male exotic dancers dressed as ponies.
The true beginning of the feud seemed to be lost in time, but the stakes heightened last autumn when Kate and her boyfriend Beckett discovered a hidden speakeasy when renovating her aunt Tootie’s farmhouse. Hints about the early connections between the Kings and Sullivans only deepened the mystery. A few times Kate suspected someone was sneaking around their property and even had to call the police after someone tried to enter the home when she was there late at night, so the Sullivans were keeping their findings quiet for now.
It was nice to see the feud was settling down into more normal, ridiculous antics.
Or...maybe not.
As Lee wound his way through the busy sidewalk, a frantic woman appeared. She was—thankfully—fully clothed but running behind him, screaming something at his back. She was also throwing things at him—pants, shoes, balled-up socks.
“Well, there’s your answer.” I shook my head, laughing. “This was definitely Lee’s doing.”
My best friend was fun, loyal, and a total playboy. His apartment was two blocks up the hill, which meant this poor woman had been at it for a while.
“Are you going to do something?” Emma asked.
I scrunched my nose at her. “What am I supposed to do?”
Truth was, cleaning up Lee’s messes was something I had gotten pretty good at over the years.
Kate sighed and tipped her face to the early May sun. “I swear, he’s my older brother, but he acts like a child.”
Emma leaned right to continue watching the mystery woman chase Lee toward the beach. “A ridiculously hot child, maybe...”
When Kate and I looked at Emma, she blushed and straightened before clearing her throat. “Sorry.”
I laughed and wondered what Lee had done to get himself into trouble now. “Well, I guess I should go pick up his clothes.”
Kate dusted crumbs from her lap and shook her head. “You should make him do it. Serves him right for whatever he did to that poor woman. I hope he got her name this time.” Dismissing her brother, she looked at me and wiggled her eyebrows. “Will you be at book club tomorrow night? We’re supposed to be finalizing details for the Matchmakers' Gala.”
I cringed.
Ah, yes. The dreaded Matchmakers' Gala.
