Goodness, his smile was beautiful…
And then—ding.
Her eyes snapped toward the phone, almost in disbelief, heart rate spiking. Tate was texting again.
She dried her hands so fast she nearly dropped the dish towel, grabbed her phone, and held her breath as she clicked on the notification.
What are you doing?
Her lips twitched as she fought back a smile. It was almost as weird as a ‘What are you wearing?’ comment because it was so out of left field for him – or for her. She typed back:
The dishes. What are you doing?
Thinking.
Nettie rolled her eyes because she knew him. Oh, sheknewhim. This was bait. She could practically hear the smug tone in her head, like he was leaning back in his chair with that infuriating smirk. She’d ask what he was thinking about, and he’d snap back with‘none of your business’or something equally irritating.
Still, she sighed heavily and played along.
What are you thinking about?
Stuff.
She groaned. If she kept rolling her eyes like this, it was bound to cause permanent damage.
What kind of ‘stuff’…
Stuff I shouldn’t be thinking about.
Talk to you later…
Her fingers hovered, irritation bubbling. Fine. If he wanted to be cryptic and moody, let him. She typed the only thing she could:
Bye.
Yup.
Nettie snorted. Yup. That was so Tate. Draw someone in and then slam the door in their face for daring to peek through the window. Classic.
She was about to set her phone down again when it beeped.
Her breath caught as she read.
You’re not a friend.
“What in the actual heck?” she exclaimed to the empty kitchen, her voice bouncing off the tile. “Who even texts stuff like that?”
She muttered under her breath while her thumbs flew across the screen. If he was trying to get under her skin—congratulations. Mission accomplished.
You’re not my friend either.
His reply came quickly.
I know that.
Fine.
I’d rather not define things – especially with something as puny as friends.
