Frenemies Read online

  “Hiya,” I said, wiggling my fingers. “In my defense, I warned you.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and glared up at me. “This is it, is it? We’re regressing back to our college years?”

  “You started this with the spider.”

  “I told you; that wasn’t me.”

  “You’re full of shit.”

  “You’re lucky you’re up there, or I’d toss you on the mess you’ve made of my car.”

  “If you try to so much as touch me, I’ll scream and kick you in the balls.”

  “You know as well as I do that threat loses its effectiveness after one too many times.”

  I paused. “I only did it three times!”

  “You didn’t get me once,” he said smugly. “You needed what you were aiming for.”

  “Yeah, well, that was then, and this is now. The only long, hard thing I need is on my nightstand.”

  Mason’s eyebrows shot up.

  I grabbed it and hung it out the window. “Yeah, my baseball bat.”

  “That’s not what I was expecting.”

  “Do you really think I’m going to flash my vibrator to the neighborhood?”

  “You may as well, considering you just announced to everyone that you own one.”

  “Most women do. They don’t answer back, see.”

  “Let me guess: unlike men, who do?”

  “Are you answering back right now?”

  “It’s a vital part of conversation, Imogen. It usually requires at least two people to speak.”

  “I don’t think I like your attitude, Mason.”

  “That’s fine. Yours is shit, too. We match.”

  I pouted. “I’m not going to sit here and deal with this.”

  “Deal with what? You’re lucky I haven’t gone inside and filled Maya’s water pistol with watered down paint and shot it all over your car.”

  “If you touch my car, I’ll rip your lungs out through your throat.”

  He smirked. “Oh, to have you that close again.”

  Holy shit. This was impossible.

  “You’re an insufferable git, Mason Black.”

  “Your words cut me deeply,” he drawled, sarcasm dripping from every single syllable. “Look, I’m willing to let this go.” He motioned at his messy car and his messy self. “But if you insist on a prank war, just know that I’m not backing down. This will be college on steroids.”

  “Why would I back down? You started this!”

  “Fine. It’s your death warrant you’re signing.”

  “We’ll see about that. You’re not the only one who has a wealth of pranks tucked up their sleeve.”

  Mason pushed hair from his face with a shrug. “All right. You asked for it.”

  “Fine.” I stood up and grabbed the window handle to close it. “Game on.”

  “Game on.”

  Even from where I was standing, I could see the glint in his eye. It was the same one he got whenever we were messing around in college, and my stomach did an involuntary flip at the memory.

  That wasn’t going to work at all for me.

  “Imogen!”

  I frowned and pushed the window back open. “What?”

  I saw the bright blue ball a second too late. It hit the window frame, exploding all over the inside of my open window.

  And me.

  The water was ice cold, and I gasped as it trickled down my neck. “Oh, my God!”

  “Rookie mistake!” he yelled back up, laughing.

  I grabbed another water balloon and threw it, but he saw it coming and moved out of the way so it burst on the sidewalk. “It is so on!”

  “I can’t wait!”

  I slammed the window shut, a strangled noise of frustration escaping me as I did so. He laughed so loudly I could hear it even through the closed window, so I yanked the curtains shut and headed for the bathroom.

  My eyes stung thanks to the mascara I was wearing, so I removed that with wipes before I used a towel to dry my face and my bangs.

  “Immy? What’s going on?”

  “Water balloons,” I yelled back to Grandma.

  “Ooh, are we having a neighborhood water fight? Those are fun.”

  “No!” I rushed out of the bathroom, still clutching onto the towel. “Mason got revenge, that’s all.”

  “Revenge for what? Did you put an awkward college photo of him online?”

  “No.” I rolled my eyes and wiped away the last of the water. “I threw a water balloon, and it didn’t burst. He grabbed it and threw it at the window where I was.”

  She looked me up and down. “Is that why you look like a drowned rat?”

  “Your supportive personality is my favorite thing about you,” I said dryly. “It’s fine. It was a rookie mistake. I won’t make it again.”

  “Mm.” Grandma turned away and headed back down the stairs where I followed her into the kitchen, pausing to toss the towel into the laundry basket in the utility room on the way. “Which mistake? The water balloon or the sex?”

  “The sex? What sex? I haven’t had sex with him!”

  “Again. Yet.”

  “You need a therapist.” I yanked a bottle of water from the fridge and slammed the door shut. “And glasses, because I clearly hate him.”

  “No. You’re clearly stuck in the past and hold less than favorable feelin’s toward him because he hurt you.”

  “Never mind. You are the therapist. Do I have to pay you for this, Dr. Jen?”

  “But you’re also a big sucky baby about it.”

  “You just wrote off any bill you could charge me. I’m gonna call Mom and whine to her for an hour.”

  “Why? Because I’m right?” Grandma sighed. “The Anderson women never did like being wrong.”

  “She’s an Anderson by marriage, you lunatic.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She paused. “You know, I’m not even entirely sure I like your mother.”

  Other people would be offended by that. Me? Not so much. “She doesn’t like you either. Neither do I right now.”

  “Sticks and stones.” She waved a hand through the air. “Go whine. Being a little bitch won’t solve your problems, Immy.”

  I stopped in the doorway and glared at her. “You have got to get off the internet.”

  “I like the internet. It has free porn.”

  “Grandma!”

  “Old ladies like orgasms, too,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “And we’re done here.” I threw up a hand in defeat and headed back to the stairs. I did not need to hear any more of that thought train, thank you very much.

  Now or ever.

  Neither did anyone else.

  I really had to set up parental controls for her internet access. She wasn’t smart enough to navigate her way around them. Then again, I wouldn’t have thought she could find a porn website, but here we were.

  Having a conversation about it.

  Abort fucking mission, Captain.

  I closed my bedroom door behind me and went over to my window. Water droplets had beaded on the outside, but I peered between them at Mason’s front yard. I couldn’t even see the front of his house from my vantage point, but I had a clear view of his driveway.

  He was cleaning his car using a pressure washer, and the powerful stream of water ripped through the floury mess I’d inflicted on his car. His white vest gave his tanned skin a slightly darker glow, and I found myself momentarily jealous of his ability to catch the sun.

  That was nothing new, though.

  Where he tanned, I burned. It’d always been that way. The only tan I was capable of getting came from a bottle and brought at least one of its friends with it: streaks, patches, or tangerine.

  I sighed, leaning against the window.

  Of all the people who could move in next door, why did it have to be Mason Black?

  CHAPTER SIX – MASON

  Puppy Love

  She was watching me.

  I didn’t need eyes in the back o
f my head to feel hers on me.

  I was annoyingly connected to Imogen Anderson. It was that cliché as fuck thing that popped up in those godawful romcoms people watched on TV. Eyes meeting across a crowded room kinda bullshit, except this was real.

  If I turned around, I knew I’d catch her looking at me.

  I fucking hated it. The last thing I needed was her complicating my life with her blue eyes and her memories. Yet here I was, cleaning off my goddamn car because she’d tried to flour bomb it.

  She would have succeeded, too, if I hadn’t walked out when I did.

  I wished I hadn’t. It was easier to wash flour from a car than it was your hair.

  I spoke from experience, obviously.

  Of all the places I could move, why was it here? When Francesca had moved her and Maya in with Matt last year, I’d spent six months trying to get a transfer. I’d just never connected this town with Immy, and why would I have?

  We hadn’t spoken in years, and it was entirely my fault. Even if I had made the connection, there was no guarantee that she still lived here.

  Yet here I was, wiping her goddamn flour from my car, pretending like I didn’t know she was watching me.

  I walked around the car to where I knew I was out of sight from what I guessed was her bedroom window. Unless she had water bombs stashed around the house, something I assumed would be dangerous, having met her grandmother.

  I took my time cleaning the front of my car. It didn’t need cleaning compared to the rest of it—it was the back that looked bad—but I needed to shake the feeling of her eyes on me.

  I wasn’t the one responsible for the spider. I was still pulling my boxers out of a fucking box, for the love of God. When did I have the opportunity to buy a rubber spider?

  And no, it wasn’t while I was taking a shit, because I read the sports news then.

  As a Dallas fan, the news usually matched the activity.

  I shook my head as I moved back into what I thought was Immy’s line of sight and glanced up. The curtains were fully closed again, and I turned my attention back to my car.

  No, I wasn’t the one who’d put that spider in the mailbox. If I had to hedge a guess, I’d blame her grandmother. It was the kind of thing the eccentric woman seemed like she’d be responsible for. She’d already admitted to reading Immy’s journal, so she’d know all about our prank wars in college.

  It was different then. We were young. We didn’t have responsibilities past our grades and doing our own laundry.

  It didn’t matter how many times I insisted I wasn’t responsible. I knew Immy wouldn’t believe me. She was as stubborn as humans came, and she’d laid down her own declaration of war with the damn mess I was cleaning right now.

  “Ah shit,” I muttered, catching sight of the all-too-familiar red BMW creeping down the street. The heart-warming sight of Maya’s grinning face pressed against the back window made my stomach sink.

  I’d forgotten I had her for longer this weekend.

  Francesca pulled up behind my car. She frowned, staring at the mess both it and I were in, then got out. “What on Earth happened here?”

  I sighed, shutting off the washer for a moment. “It’s a long story.”

  “You forgot you have Maya all week, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t forget,” I lied. “I got my days mixed up.”

  She pursed her dark red lips, but there was laughter in her eyes. “Don’t sweat it, Mason. It’s not like Matt remembered either.”

  “See, this is where being the ex helps. He’s the one who gets to handle your temper now.”

  The laughter disappeared from her eyes. “I’ve got some left for you.”

  I laughed and stepped back, holding up my hands. “I’m good.”

  “Dadda!” Maya almost tumbled out of the car, but she righted herself before she went down. She threw herself at me, and I swept her up into a huge hug.

  “Hey, princess! I missed you.”

  “I miss you, too,” she replied, squeezing my neck so tightly I thought I wouldn’t be able to breathe. “You gonna stay here for a few days?”

  “Uh-huh, uh-huh. Matt says he’s takin’ Mama on vabration!”

  “Vacation,” Fran corrected gently. “It’s only a few days. I’ll be back in five sleeps, okay?”

  I put Maya down so she could hug her.

  “Don’t sweat it, Mama. We fined here.” Maya gave her a tight hug all the same.

  I had to bit the inside of my cheek so I didn’t laugh at her. It was no mystery where she’d picked up the phrase ‘don’t sweat it.’

  Maya released her and reached inside the car for something. She hauled out her little fluffy unicorn backpack and her beloved Sassy ragdoll that was her fifth limb, then turned and marched off toward the house.

  “That’s about right,” Fran muttered, standing up. “She’s got an actual case in the trunk.”

  “I got it,” I said.

  “If you think you’re coming near my newly-valeted car looking like you’ve bathed in a bowl of flour, you can think again.” Laughing, she popped the trunk and pulled out a suitcase. “She insisted on bringing half of her bedroom.”

  “Naturally.” I took the rolling case from her without touching the car. “What’s the time difference?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know when I get there. We have WiFi, so I’ll call her every day before bed.”

  “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not worried. She’s with you.”

  “Doesn’t mean you want to leave her.”

  Fran grimaced, pushing her hair behind her ear. “No, but I do think this time away will be good for me and Matt. Wedding planning is stressful, and his mother is a demon about the seating chart.”

  “Oh, the one you haven’t even started yet?”

  “That’s the one.” She snorted, then sighed. “Come on. Why are you and your car covered in flour? I’m sure there’s a good story behind it.”

  “Fine. But only because you pulled the future mother-in-law demon card on me.”

  She grinned and leaned against her car. “Good to know.”

  “You remember when we started dating, and I told you about the girl I kind of dated in college?”

  “Sure. Imogen. You were pretty much still in love with her when we first met.”

  “I wasn’t in love with her.”

  “Whatever you say. Carry on.”

  “Well, guess who my new neighbor is.”

  Her jaw dropped. “No.”

  “Yep. All the houses in this town and I bought the one next to hers.”

  “And she did this?” She motioned to me and the car, her lips twitching as if she were fighting a laugh.

  “A rubber spider ended up in her mailbox, and she blamed it on me, so she both water and flour-bombed me, and we’re apparently now in an out-and-out war.”

  “Did you put the spider there? That is your M.O., Mason.”

  “I didn’t put the damn spider there.”

  Fran rolled her eyes and pushed off the car. “If you say so. I hate to drop her and run, but I have to finish packing, otherwise Matt will end up packing his ski suit for the Maldives.”

  I snorted. “Like you did that time we went to Florida?”

  “It was January, and you told me we were skiing.”

  “I said surfing.”

  “Whatever.” She punched me in the arm. “Oh, here.” She dipped into her back pocket and pulled out a key. “Spare key for our place. Just in case Maya decides she absolutely must have something I made her leave behind.”

  I took the key with a grateful smile. “That sounds about right. Don’t worry; we’ll be fine. I’m working from home anyway this week.”

  “Turn on Shimmer and Shine and she’ll be fine. Stupid little show with genies. The theme song is as irritating as that stupid baby shark thing. Don’t you dare sing it!”

  I grinned, pocketing the key. “Thanks. We’ll be fine. No doubt she’ll make me Facebook
you photos of absolutely everything.”

  “And I will welcome them happily.” She smiled, then reached over for a one-arm hugged, not really hugging me at all.

  I laughed. “Have fun.”

  “Thanks. Tell Maya I’ll call her tomorrow when we land.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “Shut up, Mason.” She opened the door and paused before getting in. “Try not to fall back in love with your neighbor before I get back.”

  I glared at her. “Why don’t you f—”

  “Dadda! I can find my jarmers!”

  Fran tapped the side of her nose, winked, and waved to Maya.

  “Bye, Mama!” Maya waved with both hands then turned to me. “Dadda! I tired! Jarmers!”

  Fran’s laughter was drowned out by the sound of her engine, and I turned back to the house. “Damn, Mason!”

  I looked back at Fran. “What?”

  “Mom promised to take her to the dog shelter tomorrow before I remembered we were on vacation. I kind of told Maya you’d take her instead.”

  “If you think I’m getting a dog, Francesca, you can think again.”

  “You just have to take her. She likes to look at the puppies.”

  “I’m not getting a darn dog!”

  She held up her hands. “Just look. That’s all. They let the kids play with them on Thursdays between one and three, okay?”

  I shook my head. “No. That’s not okay. I have to work.”

  “It’s your funeral, then. She goes most weeks.”

  I sighed and threw up a half-hearted wave.

  I didn’t care what she said. I was not getting a dog.

  ***

  I had a dog.

  Apparently, the ability to say ‘no’ to my daughter was disappearing the older she got, and I was now the proud owner of a round ball of fluff I was informed was called a Shih Tzu.

  Pronounced shit-zoo, and not the thing you wanted your three-year-old telling everyone you were getting in the middle of the pet store.

  We would be bringing her home tomorrow, but for now, I had half of said pet store in the trunk of my car.

  “Can she seep in my room, Dadda?” Maya took the fluffy bed I handed her and looked at me with her big, blue eyes. “Peas?”

  “I guess that’s fine when you’re here. She has to go in a crate at night at first, though, until she’s house trained.” I had no idea how to house train a dog.