Chapter 10

Annoyed,I slam the door behind me.

A cabinet bangs shut from the other side of the kitchen.

A sound close to a growl comes out of my throat.

I'm not sure what it's called but a long and aggravated, "Aghhh," comes from across the room.

Either a beast is loose in here, or someone is in as bad a mood as me. And the sun hasn't even come up yet.

Can I get a redo on today?

I flick the light switch on the wall and it remains dark in the kitchen. I tap the flashlight function on my phone.

A woman with a messy bun on top of her head and eyeglasses slightly askew stands a few feet away wielding a rolling pin.

"Whit? What are you doing?"

She lowers the rolling pin. "I thought you were an intruder."

"The power is out here, too?"

"Where were you? Why are you awake so early?" she asks.

"I snuck out to get some ice time, alone. Figured I'd be back even before you and Blue woke up. Left a note in the bathroom. When I got to the Barn, I discovered the high school team sandbagged their rink duties last night. Just as I was about to call them all and tell them to get their butts out of bed, the power went out."

"It was on here until about three minutes ago. I got up early because I'm still stuck on what to make for the Cornament and the forecast is going to be super hot today, so I figured if I did my baking early, we wouldn't all swelter to death by noon with the oven on." Her shoulders drop and she tells me about a girl from high school challenging her all these years later.

"I can't let Snodgrass gloat and parade around like Cobbiton royalty."

"Snotgrass," I mutter, remembering Sophia well.

"Did you call her that?" Whit asks.

"Your brother did."

"So wicked."

I rest my palms on her shoulders.

She doesn't edge away but peers up at me through her glasses. The tension resolves, but in its place something tightens between us.

Emboldened, I say, "You look defeated by cookies and summertime, two of the best things in the world if you ask me." And her, she's up there too. I don't have an official list or anything, but I love Whit's light brown eyes, the scattering freckles that finally popped, her lips, her smooth shoulders and skin. She smells like strawberries, bakes like Mrs. Claus, and always answers Blue's questions. Plus, we've gotten pretty good at conversing like mature adults who don't hate each other.

She stares at the floor. "You're not wrong."

I step closer. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"Come on, say it."

"Say what?"

"That I'm right." The space between us narrows even more.

Glancing up at me, Whit's lips gather to one side in a flirty smile. This is a new one that I've been seeing more of lately. "I won't give you the pleasure."

"Well, then admit you're stressed. We both are. I've made no traction with the high schoolers I'm supposed to be helping as part of my penalty punishment."

She hoists herself onto the counter by the window, letting in the dim light of the nearing dawn. A few pieces of her wavy hair came loose, framing her face around her glasses. She worries her lip in the sweetest way. Being this close makes the thump in my chest so loud and so strong, that I fear she can hear it.

"It's not going well. I can't seem to get through to them," I add.

"All the cookies I've been considering have been done before. I need something new, something fresh. A recipe that will wow the judges and that they can sink their teeth into and truly enjoy. I have a lot to live up to with my grandmother's legacy and don't want to let her down."

"You couldn't possibly. Maybe you can help me with the team, and I'll help you with your prize-winning recipe."

"Why don't you ask the Omaha Golden Boy," Whit mutters.

"Your brother? He's planning a wedding."

"Not if I don't find a boyfriend. To be clear, I'm not trying to impede him. I wasn't sure about Kathleen at first, but I like her and wish them a lifetime of married bliss."

"No offense because I love your parents, but they're being ridiculous. What's next? When you're engaged, are they going to up the ante and forbid you get married until your brother produces an heir?" I'd kind of hoped the whole thing with Whit and Clancy's parents was a joke, but sadly, it's not.

Whit's laughter brightens the room. "I wouldn't be the least bit surprised."

I plant my hands on Whit's knees and gaze into her eyes. "I think we both need a break."

Her face falls before she straightens. "What do you mean?" her voice trembles.

The corner of my lip lifts into a smile. "Spend the day at the lake and forget about the power being out, you having baker's block, and my inability to get the high school hockey students to do my bidding."

She laughs again, shoulders relaxing with what looks like relief. "Oh, sure. Yeah. I thought you meant something else. I haven't been to the lake in years."

Something like me taking off? Leaving? Not this time.

An hour and a half later, we pay the admission fee to the lake and pile out of the car. Blue talks a mile a minute, admitting that she doesn't know how to swim but wants to learn and promises to stay where it's shallow as she tugs me toward the sand. You'd think we surprised her with a trip to Disney, complete with the keys to Cinderella's castle.

Turns out, the kid loves bike riding, ice skating, and being in a body of water even though she can't swim yet, which I'm remedying by using Baloo as a prime example of the dog paddle.

We're making progress while Whit stands with tiny waves lapping her ankles. She waves at us and takes a photo.

Blue clings to my neck then looks up at me and says, "My arms feel like noodles."

I laugh and suggest she take a rest. "You might turn into a prune if you stay in the water too much longer."

"What's a prune?"

"Hmm. It's kind of like a raisin but bigger."

"But aren't raisins dried grapes? I'm all wet, silly." She flops back into the water.

"Okay, you can stay in a bit longer, but only up to your knees."

Not at all disappointed, she proceeds to play a mermaid game, swishing her hair back and forth. I meet Whit on the shore.

"Looks like you were having fun," she says.

"You should've joined us."

"And risk you splashing me or holding me under, no thank you."

I press my hand to my chest. "I'd never."

"You would because you have," she retorts.

I filter back in my memory bank and do recall a few times horsing around with Clancy and Whit at this very lake. She was always one of the boys until the senior year camping trip. Things changed, and that's a memory I don't have to try hard to find.

For half a moment, the surrounding laughter and splashing fades and it's just Whit and me, standing on the lakeshore just as we did under that tree.

Her cheeks are faintly pink, her chin slightly lifted. Our eyes meet and then hers dart to the right. She steps to the left and is very close to me.

"What are you doing?"

"I think I was spotted."

"Are you on the run from the law? Should I be worried about you and the rolling pin after all?"

"No, it's Sophia Snodgrass."

"Sophia who? Oh, that Sophia Snodgrass."

"I thought I saw you, Whit. Figured you'd be here with your little food cart, passing out cookies and milk. I hear that's a great way to make friends."

Oh, that Sophia.The one from high school who was as annoying then as she is now and by annoying I mean she always appeared wherever Clancy was. I guess some things don't change.

Whit's tight expression suggests she's trying very hard to be nice, demonstrating that she's no longer Wild Whit who'd ruin a person's day with one harsh glare.

"Who do we have here? Looks like your tactics are working or our hometown hockey hero is taking pity on you."

Still keeping an eye on Blue, I frown. "Is this the girl you were telling me about? The one with the secret she doesn't want anyone to know."

Whit's mouth opens and closes.

Sophia crosses her arms in front of her chest. "What are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"Redd, you do remember who this is from high school, right? And of course, you remember me." Sophia flutters her lashes.

"Whitney and I have been best friends since before we knew how to swim. Of course, I know who she is. I vaguely remember you. And by the way you're acting right now, I don't care to get to know you," I say.

Sophia pouts. "That's no way to talk to a fan."

"The only fan around here is me, of this woman, who's smart, sweet, thoughtful, and the best baker this side of the Mississippi River, so if you're wondering about her entry in the Cornament, I can safely say she has everyone beat, especially you, in every way that matters."

Sophia's mouth drops. With a snobby little sniff, she storms off.

Whit's expression of confused shock locks on me. Her cheeks turn a rosy shade and her smile reaches her eyes. "Thanks for that. But you didn't have to?—"

"Don't mention it. Now you have to win that contest, so I can keep my reputation around here."

Whit laughs and elbows me playfully. "Then help me with the recipe."

"That's what I was suggesting earlier. Perhaps we can mutually benefit each other. You can help me with the team, and I'll help you with your prize-winning recipe."

"Have you ever baked anything?"

"Does frozen pizza count?"

Arms crossed, she cocks her head as if to say, Definitely not.

I jut my chin toward my sister. "Looking back at the last month and getting to know you again, I think anything is possible." My voice is gentle, an invitation fully into the friendship I'd acknowledged between Whit and me to Sophia.

Before I can gauge Whit's response, Blue runs up to us, grabbing both our wrists. "Redd, Whit, guess what? Macy is here and she invited me to come over."

Ever since the two girls met at a cookout the Lemons had a couple of weeks ago, all I hear about is Macy. They've played a few times and ice-skated together as well. Knowing Blue has at least one friend, going into first grade, gives me a great sense of relief. Plus, it's a way to show the Knights I'm a team player and that the rumors about me aren't true—at least not anymore.

The Knights' team captain, Micah Lemon, greets me and then says, "Can't seem to keep these two apart."

Drenched, the two girls hug, all smiles.

"It's BFF Blue and Macy Glue!" they both shout.

I take it I missed an inside joke they have.

After chatting for a few minutes, we arrange for Blue to go home with them in a little while and then I'll pick her up after dinner.

She spins in a circle and then gives Whit and me a hug. "Family hug," she shouts, which makes me wonder if she has another inside—well, it's not a joke. Perhaps, we have our own kind of glue. The family brand.

After we pack up Blue's things, Whit and I lounge on the blanket she laid out.

"You're getting a little pink." She points to my shoulders.

I squeeze out some sunblock and rub it in, then hold it out to her. "Can you get my back too?"

Whit splutters and blushes before disappearing from my peripheral vision. Seconds pass and her hands are on my back, applying the sunblock. My chest does that weird thumping thing. Though, it happens so often lately that I've stopped noticing it as irregular. At my off-season workup, my heart and cardio conditioning were perfect, so it's not like I have a condition or something to worry about. I'd be very concerned if this were happening a couple of months ago, but with Whit, it feels right. However, the way she's rubbing in the sunscreen is a little odd.

"Are you Miyagi-ing me?" I ask, peering over my shoulder.

The motion stops. "What do you mean?"

"I feel a distinct wax-on, wax-off motion happening back there."

"Oh, it's just that, um, I—" She goes quiet for a long beat and resumes application of the sunscreen.

When she's done, I offer to do her back. She bites her lip, and I do it anyway. I imagine my palms and the pads of my fingers are a lot rougher than her soft hands on my skin. She seems to lean into me like a cat getting scratched behind the ears.

When I'm done, we both lie down on our stomachs. I balance on my elbows, and she rests her temple on her stacked hands.

Our gazes meet. It's like Whit resists a full-blown smile until something is confirmed.

"If you want to ask me something, go ahead," I say.

Whit clears her throat. "Are we officially friends again?"

"I didn't officially stop being friends with you, but yes. My turn, can I ask you a question?"

She nods.

"Who hurt you?"

Whit blinks a few times and then something surprising happens. A tear drops from the corner of her eye and works its way along her nose before she wipes it away as if embarrassed. She whispers, "You."

"Me?"

"You were so mean to me. I had a list titled TheTen Things I Hate about James Reddford."

"Ouch. That's wicked."

"Any less so than ditching me in high school?"

"Who are you and what did you do with Whitney Reid? I was terrified of you. You terrorized freshmen with your sharp wit and combat boots. Figured I'd get a tongue lashing from you." I swallow uncomfortably because that reminds me of the time we kissed and it was the most perfect experience of my life.

Another tear appears and I gently wipe it away with my thumb.

Voice soft, I ask, "So, you're saying you turned into Wild Whit because of me?"

"Clancy and you abandoned me. Then he embarrassed me by being super overprotective, so I took matters into my own hands."

"And Wild Whit was born. You were a real baddy."

"Says the guy who in high school wore all black and drove a motorcycle." She leans on her elbows now.

"Whitney, the black clothing hid the dirt. My clothes weren't always clean. I think your mom noticed sometimes, and I'd find my stuff in Clancy's clean clothes pile. The motorcycle was good on gas and was the only way I could get to hockey practice. My mother left, probably because she quickly saw how dangerous my father was." I stare at my hands while I tell her things no one knows, not even Clancy.

She goes quiet as if realizing this and a connection that goes deeper than mere friendship floats between us. I reach for it. Take it in my hands. Whit's expression softens and I assume she's done the same.

"That means we were both outsiders. You by default, me on purpose, but only because I felt like I was perpetually in my brother's shadow."

"Neither one of us was truly as we appeared though. Little Miss Rebel Girl writing in her journal all about the Big Bad James Reddford," I tease.

Her lips quirk. "You got one page."

"So, the list wasn't all that long. Plus, it means you were paying attention, thinking about me."

It's hard not to notice the mutual attraction buzzing between us now.

"I have one more question," Whit says.

I nod for her to go ahead.

"When are you going to get rid of that mustache?"

I spin around so I'm sitting and then lasso her waist, pulling her close so we're shoulder to shoulder. I snap a selfie and then send out a quick text, not shielding it from view.

It says, This is the final proof of life mustache photo.

"Does that mean you're shaving it?"

To the text, I add, You win. I have a woman to kiss.

"It'll be gone shortly after we get home." First, I have to call Clancy.

Just as we're about to pack up, a cloud appears out of nowhere and rain falls, clearing the lakeshore.

Even though we're both drenched, including the towels and beach blanket, we laugh and holler all the way back to my SUV.

"I'm sorry to get the interior of your car soaked," Whit says.

"Micah gave me a bunch of jerseys the other day." I fish around in the back for the box of fresh off-the-press Nebraska Knights merch.

As if relieved, Whit puts it on, arms tight as a shiver works through her. I have to admit, I rather like her wearing my team's shirt with my name emblazoned across the back. Maybe the trade and the move aren't so bad after all.

I tell myself not to fall for Whit, but it's too late.