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The next morning,the bell to Sand Dune Studio tinkled, as the buzzy rush of entering Annie’s space coursed through me. In the years I had known her, she had always been creative—doodling and crafting, usually covered in some sort of glitter or glue since we were kids. When I had signed up for the Army, I had come back to find Annie had found her groove as Outtatowner’s resident artist. Despite her grumblings about cheap art flooding the tourist market, people flocked to her store for her creative and original designs.
I moved around the patrons milling in her store, examining her beautiful ceramics and the trinkets that lined the shelves. I caught the eye of a cute brunette but offered her only a tight smile and curt nod.
I was a man on a mission.
I spotted Annie in the back, talking with a customer and gesturing wildly. Her unruly red curls bounced as she talked, and her animated gestures lit up her bright-blue eyes. She answered the man’s question and pointed him in the right direction. As she moved past him, she gave his arm a gentle squeeze.
Annie was affectionate by nature, always offering a friendly hug or a gentle pat to everyone in her circle.
Everyone but me, of course, which was a fact that seemed to irk me more and more.
Annie had grown up in a foster home and, being the same age, she and Margo were more like sisters than not. Margo and I had dated in high school, so Annie was always around. After Margo’s accident, my relationship with Annie had morphed into something ...different.
Something more.
We had both been careful never to cross the line into anything more than friends, but calling her myfriendwas somehow grossly inadequate.
Annie was a part of me.
As I approached her, I plopped down the box of her favorite pastry—Junkers. The small scraps of homemade biscuit-dough discards were rolled in cinnamon sugar, then baked. They were the brainchild of Huck, owner and pastry genius behind the Sugar Bowl, the only bakery and coffee shop in town.
I had to practically beg him to sell me the last batch.
I leaned my elbow on the counter and gave Annie my most charming grin. A peace offering.
Annie lowered her chin and looked at me with bored eyes, but I could tell by the way the shades of aqua and navy twinkled in her eyes that she wasn’t truly mad at me—probably just annoyed that she’d had to collect my clothes scattered down Main Street.
“You are a man-whore.”
My grin widened. “I may be a man-whore, Annette, but I’myourman-whore.”
It was easier to joke about than to admit to my best friend that despite my playboy reputation, I hadn’t had sex in months.
Not since I had been banging a redhead and Annie’s face flashed in my mind.
“I see you got my note,” she said, pulling me back to the present. A smile tugged at her lips.
My chest thunked with a comfortable familiarity, as it always did whenever Annie was nearby.
“I did and you are correct. I am an idiot.”
She flipped open the top to the white bakery box, and her smirk grew a fraction wider. “You are forgiven.”
I turned to look out into her small shop and leaned my elbows against the counter as Annie sat on the high stool next to the register. She pulled out a small piece of sugared biscuit and popped it into her mouth.
“So who was she?” she asked around the sugary treat.
Annie and I kept no secrets. She knew about my dating history, and I knew hers. Probably better than she knew her own. But it also felt weird talking to her about it sometimes. I certainly didn’t need her knowing about the random intrusive thought I’d had with the redhead.
I reached over and tugged at one of her curls, but she slapped my hand away. “Ugh, cut it out. You know you really owe your sister apology biscuits, not me. She’s the one who had to see”—Annie waved her hand between us—“all of that.”
It took a lot to embarrass me, but even I could admit that my sister seeing me in nothing but a pair of old work boots holding my dick as I ran down the street was not my finest moment.
“Don’t worry, she’s next on my Lee Fucked Up Apology Tour.” I smiled at my best friend.
“That tour has been going strong for a while now, hasn’t it?” she teased.
I laughed at her playful dig. The door chime sounded again, drawing our attention to the woman who walked in.
