Judd shrugged. “I figured the decision about the replacement Chief would’ve been made by now. Nobody thought this would drag on for over a year. Either way, this is the time we’ve got, and gag gifts must be procured. It’s tradition.”
Curmudgeon or not, Judd Hamilton was reliable as the rising sun. Since the pair of them were old enough to ride their bikes downtown, they’d established an annual tradition of finding the best possible gag gifts for his twin brothers. As she’d been an honorary Hamilton for more than a decade, she took great pleasure in punking Leo and Eli.
As they polished off their breakfast, and he wrote out a list of stops like he was planning a tactical assault, Mama Pearl brought their check. Autumn started to reach for it, but Judd’s hand shot out and snagged it.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying breakfast,” he said.
Autumn bristled. “I can buy my own breakfast.”
“You’ve been working on half-time hours since spring. I’ve been working overtime. Ergo, I’m buying breakfast.”
“Don’t be an ass.”
“I’m an ass for buying my oldest friend breakfast?” He fixed her with that cop stare that was meant to intimidate but instead heated things that had no business heating.
Autumn shifted in her seat, crossing her legs to get more comfortable and bumping his instead. A zing of awareness shot from her kneecap further north and she repressed the urge to curse, focusing instead on keeping every nuance of her expression dialed to annoyed rather than attracted. God knew, she had plenty of practice.
Before she could come up with an answer that wasn’t some shade of “I don’t need you to take care of me”—which would just piss him off—Mama Pearl came back.
She gave a hmmph that conveyed a wealth of opinion over their stalemate before handing Autumn a thick envelope. “Omar sent this out. You won the pool on Tucker and Corinne.”
Judd tossed down his napkin. “Of course you did. How many does this make?”
“Seventeen,” Autumn said sweetly, plucking the check from his hand and pulling three fives from the envelope to pass back to Mama Pearl.
He stared at her. “Seriously?”
“What can I say? I’m lucky when it comes to betting on love.” Which was an enormous crock of shit. She’d never been brave enough to gamble with him. Until today.
“She is the reigning champion,” Mama Pearl confirmed, before ambling off to get her change.
“What’s your secret?” Judd asked.
“Secret?”
“Why is it you’re so good at picking who’s going to end up with who and when?”
He absolutely wouldn’t like the answer to that. Reminding Judd that she was adept at reading people’s body language because she’d grown up in a household where understanding that meant the difference between surviving her father’s crazy pseudo-religious delusions and getting the belt—or worse—would ruin the mood of the day. He’d gotten her out years ago. That was the important thing. Besides, it was a lot more fun using her skills for love instead of survival.
Now her brain was occupied with broaching a far more terrifying topic. How exactly did you tell your best friend you’re in love with him?
“Maybe it’s all those romance novels. It’s made me extra sensitive to spotting the signs. And anyway, betting on love sure as hell beats editing dissertations for foreign students in terms of supplementing my income.”
His lips quirked in that devil-may-care grin that made her heart stutter. “You’ve actually made enough on this to supplement your income?”
It wasn’t the only supplement to her income, but it was the only one he needed to know about. She made a show of fanning the remaining cash in the envelope. “I just got handed all my shopping money. For the twins and for a splurge.”
“Then I guess we’d better go spend it.”
Per tradition, stop number one was the fountain in the middle of the town green. Constructed just after the Civil War, the fountain had earned some local notoriety over the past century and a half. It was, after all, why the town was named Wishful. Usually Autumn tossed in her coin and made a less selfish wish—there were plenty of other people who could use a little bit of magic. But if she was really going through with this, she needed all the help she could get. She’d even saved a silver dollar specially for the occasion. The coin lay sweaty against her palm. She stared down at the smooth surface of the water, trying to slow her heart and think of the right way to phrase the wish.
“You okay, Firefly?”
The childhood nickname pulled her back to the past, to the first time they’d stood here and the wish she’d made then. The casual stroke down her back kept her in the now.
“You know, when we were twelve and you brought me here that first time, I