Krista owned the Hot Honey Hideaway, a summertime cozy outdoor café and bar attached to a boathouse down by the lake. Locals loved her creative iced lattes, her inventive cocktails, and, of course, her grandma’s ice cream, which tourists, especially those staying at the campground, considered a family tradition.
“Come upstairs,” Zoe said. “I picked up some lemon drop cookies from the bakery this morning. They’d go perfect with this.”
“Ooh, now you’re talking.”
Krista followed her up the stairs, Frankie’s little paws clicking along behind them.
Zoe knew sooner or later she was going to have to tell Krista about Jackson. She didn’t want to lie to her best friend, but she and Jackson had promised to keep their fake relationship underwraps. And what kind of fake girlfriend would she be if she broke that promise the same day they’d made it?
Still, the secret sat heavy on her chest until she reminded herself that she was doing this for her mom. She knew Krista would understand. Her friend would do anything for her grandparents and her younger sister. She was protective of those she loved.
“I figure I might as well tell you before you hear it from someone else,” Zoe said over her shoulder while climbing the stairs. “Jackson and I are officially dating.”
Zoe tossed it out casually, but the silence behind her forced her to turn around.
Krista had stopped cold on the landing, eyes wide.
“Jackson? Jackson Hawthorne? The man who you said wasn’t even remotely interested in you? The man who’s been living rent-free in your head since middle school?”
“One and the same,” Zoe said as she opened her door.
Whiskers meowed in greeting before spotting Frankie and instantly puffing up her tail. She hissed and backed up dramatically, a low growl in her throat.
“Now, Whiskers, that’s no way to greet our guests.”
The cat gave Zoe a look that could only be described as deeply offended, then leapt onto the kitchen counter with a thump. A tiny puff of soil drifted from a nearby pot as her tail brushed past a planter of rosemary rooting in a chipped teacup.
Frankie, meanwhile, gave a cheerful little ruff and wagged his tail hard enough to knock into Zoe’s umbrella stand.
“Careful!” Zoe laughed, catching the wobbling stand before it fell. Behind her, a small stack of gardening books slid off the arm of the couch and hit the rug with a soft thud.
Whiskers stretched out one paw, slow and deliberate, dangling it off the edge of the counter. Frankie hopped in a circle, tail still going, then sneezed from all the new smells.The sneeze startled Whiskers, who let out a sharp mrrp! before disappearing into the bedroom.
Krista laughed, setting down the drinks carrier. The air smelled faintly of honey and citrus from the cocktails—and maybe a little of potting soil too.
“So,” Krista said, eyes glinting with mischief as she handed Zoe her drink, “how long have you guys been dating?”
“Not long. We were going to keep it quiet,” Zoe added. “But my mom saw us hugging last night and decided to bet on us being Couple of the Year.”
Krista burst out laughing. “I love your mom.”
“Yeah, well,” Zoe said, taking a sip. “Delicious, thanks, Krista. Anyway, so much for keeping things casual.”
Krista narrowed her eyes, lips lifting into a smile. “Casual. Funny, because last summer when you stayed over after wine night, you muttered ‘Oh, Jackson’ in your sleep. Twice.”
Zoe choked. “I did not.”
“Oh, you did. Frankie can back me up.” The dachshund gave a little yip at his name, tail thumping.
Zoe buried her face in her hands. “I hate you.”
Krista grinned. “Love you too. And clearly, you’ve been in love with him for years, so forgive me if I don’t act shocked.”
Zoe groaned and sank onto her couch against the throw pillows in shades of baby blue and sunny yellow. Books and half-finished seed catalogs cluttered the coffee table, while her wall of hanging air plants gleamed softly in the lamplight. The space was cozy and chaotic in equal measure—every corner bursting with life. Zoe liked to think it looked creative. Jackson called it a fire hazard.
“Does he check all of your boxes?” Krista asked.
Zoe winced. “Not really? I don’t know…”
