Bad Girl Reputation by Elle Kennedy

“So what’s the score?” Mac asks me.

“Honestly, I’ve lost count.” I spoon the potato salad into a big bowl then pull the roasted carrots out of the oven.

We’re having an al fresco buffet-style dinner tonight. Several of our friends, along with Riley and his aunt, are already outside milling about. Steph keeps joking that it’s our engagement dinner, but it’s really not. More of a spur-of-the-moment suggestion on the part of Evan, whose impulsive tendencies haven’t completely abated.

He bumps into me while pulling utensils out of a drawer. “I’m winning.”

“I’m gonna say this again—” Cooper announces, coming to stand in the middle of the kitchen.

“Coop, stop.” Mac rolls her eyes as she picks up a tray laden with various salads.

“No, I’d like to reiterate. If I find out anyone but me is having sex on my bed, I’m setting theirs on fire in the backyard.”

“Dude.” Evan laughs at him. “Seriously, what makes you think I’d want to blow a load in your room? I’ve heard what you get up to in there.”

For that, he gets a swift smack to the arm from Mac.

“Just so you know,” Cooper shoots back as Evan is picking a cucumber spear off the cutting board to pop in his mouth. “I’ve had sex with her on that counter. So enjoy.”

“Jesus.” Evan shudders. “I know you confuse me with a mirror, but we don’t actually share a dick, man. Keep it to yourself.”

Lately, most of the ribbing has come at our expense. Just a little good-natured teasing about our newly engaged bliss. That we’re too young to get married and, before we know it, we’ll both be bored with each other and drowning in baby diapers. Still, it doesn’t faze us. Like Evan told Cooper when we announced it, we know we’re forever. We’ve always known.

As Mac and Evan drift onto the back deck, I set my oven mitts on the counter and give Cooper a sidelong glance. He cocks a brow when he notices. “What?” he says defensively.

My answering smile is saccharine. “Still haven’t gotten my apology for the day.”

“Fuck’s sake. Are you seriously going to hold me to that?”

“Sure am.”

A few days ago, Cooper and I took a walk on the beach and had a long overdue chat. And it didn’t even take any urging from Evan or Mackenzie. My future brother-in-law and I were mature enough to know we needed to squash the beef. So I apologized for being a bad influence on Evan in the past, while Cooper apologized for confronting me outside my place of business and telling me what a horrible person I was. He then offered me the privilege of his friendship again, to which I’d laughed and informed him if he wanted the privilege of my friendship, he would need to apologize to me every day until the wedding. Whenever that’ll be. We’re on Day Four now, and I’m having a blast.

“Fine.” Cooper lets out an annoyed breath. “I’m sorry for telling you to fuck off and saying we weren’t friends.”

“Thanks, Coop.” I walk over to ruffle his hair. “Appreciate it.”

Mac returns to witness the exchange, laughing under her breath. “Cut him some slack, Gen. He promised to be nice from now on.”

I think it over. “Fine. I release you from your apology obligations,” I tell Cooper.

He rolls his eyes and heads outside to assist his brother.

“Need some help?” Alana appears at the open sliding door, uncharacteristically eager to help out. She practically grabs the potato salad bowl from my hand.

I stare at her. “Why are you being weird?”

Beside me, Mac peers past Alana’s shoulder toward the deck. “She’s avoiding Wyatt,” Mac supplies. “He’s glaring daggers at us right now.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or sigh. Whereas my love life finally straightened itself out, Alana’s seems to be growing ever more complicated. “What did you do to him this time?” I ask her.

She scowls at me. “Nothing.”

Mac lifts a brow.

“Fine.” Alana huffs. “I’m getting my left wrist inked for my birthday next week. So I had a tattoo designed.”

I’m confused. “And?”

“By someone other than Wyatt.”

I gasp. “No!”

Even Mac, who’s only lived in the Bay for a year or so, grasps the implications of that. Wyatt is the best artist in town. Going to anybody else for a tat is sacrilege.

“I’m allowed to use someone else,” Alana argues. “Preferably someone who doesn’t think they’re in love with me.”

“Guess you can’t go to Tate either, then,” Mac cracks, and she and I giggle.

Alana’s mouth twists in another scowl. She swiftly sets down the potato salad. “You know what? I’m not helping anymore. I hate you both.”

She stomps off, leaving us laughing in her wake. Through the sliding door, I see her march past Wyatt to join Steph and Heidi on the other side of the deck, where she tries to camouflage into the railing.

“Oh, the tangled webs we weave,” Mac remarks, still chuckling.

We step outside and start arranging the serving dishes on the table. Another folding table has an array of drinks, and a few coolers of beer sit on the floor nearby. Cooper goes to check the meat he’s grilling on the barbecue, while Evan wanders out with a stack of napkins and places them next to the pile of utensils.