Call Me Crazy (Bellamy Creek #3) - Melanie Harlow Page 0,15

too. Maybe they knew each other.”

Bianca laughed. “Wouldn’t that be something? Come on, let’s have coffee and dessert. I’ve got a sweet tooth.”

“Good to know,” I said, following her from the room and trying not to look at her cute round butt in her tight jeans.

Sinister business indeed.

“What’s that?” I said, eyeing the pad of paper and pen she’d placed on the island along with two cups of coffee and a plate of pizzelle sprinkled with powdered sugar.

“That’s for us to draw up the most important rules of our deal. I figure we don’t need everything in writing, maybe just the top five things.” She sipped her coffee, then she picked up the pen. “I’ll go first. No sex,” she said, writing it down in all caps, as if I’d been pawing her all night.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”

“With anyone,” she went on, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Not as long as we’re married. I don’t want it going around that you’re cheating on me.”

“Well, I don’t want it going around that I’m a cheater.”

“Good, then we agree,” she said breezily, picking up a cookie and taking a bite.

Aggravated at the thought of a yearlong dry spell, I grabbed a cookie too. I wasn’t much of a sweets eater, but I did like pizzelle. “Did you make these?”

“Yes.”

“They’re good.”

“Thank you. Okay, what’s your top rule?”

I thought for a minute, taking another bite. “Don’t nag me.”

“What?”

“My mother is always on my dad about every little thing—he got the floor dirty, he left the seat up, he forgot their anniversary, he didn’t make the dinner reservation, the volume on the TV is too loud . . .” I shook my head. “It’s like a constant stream of criticism.”

“Fair enough. No nagging,” she wrote down.

“Add something else to that,” I said, finishing my first cookie and taking another one. “Add that if something is really bothering you, you’re going to tell me what it is and not expect me to guess at it like a mind reader. Like, you won’t go into a room and slam the door and make me wonder what I did wrong or what you’re upset about.”

She gave me a look but did what I asked. “Item two A, no mind-reading expectations.”

“Okay, what’s next?” I asked, brushing the powdered sugar off my hands on my pants.

Bianca thought for a moment. “We have to be able to trust each other. So no lying.”

“Agreed. And no giving away the secret to anyone,” I said seriously. “No one else can know about this.”

She looked guilty. “I told my sister.”

“You what!”

“I told my sister, Ellie. But we can trust her,” she went on. “Look, we’re going to need support from people close to us. And I felt like Ellie was going to see through it anyway. Pick one friend or one of your siblings to tell.”

Frowning, I thought it over as I took a sip of coffee. My siblings were out—they were shit at keeping secrets. And choosing one of my three best guy friends would be tough. I’d been close to Griffin Dempsey, Cole Mitchell, and Beckett Weaver since middle school. They were like brothers to me. All of them would be supportive of me, no matter what—although they’d all think this was fucking nuts. “I can’t choose between my friends,” I said.

“How many are we talking?”

“Three.”

She frowned. “That’s too many. Put their names in a hat.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” She flipped to a new sheet of paper. “Who are they?”

I recited their names, and she wrote them down on three separate scraps of paper, folded them up, and put them in front of me.

“Close your eyes and pick one,” she instructed.

I did, and when I unfolded it, the name on the paper was Cole Mitchell. On one hand, he was the best choice because he knew Bianca the best—she’d helped him decorate his new house. On the other, Cole was the worst liar on the planet. I wasn’t sure he could fake the amount of enthusiasm required.

“Well? What does it say?” she prodded.

“Cole.”

She smiled. “That’s a great choice.”

“I’m not sure. Cole sucks at lying.”

“We’re not exactly asking him to lie. We’re just trusting him with a secret.”

“I guess.”

Turning her attention to the list again, she recited as she wrote. “Number three: No lying to each other. Number four: No telling anyone except Ellie DeRossi and Cole Mitchell.”

“Fine.”

“Wait—what about their significant others? Are we going to expect them not to tell Cheyenne or Sierra?”

I frowned. “I guess not. But that’s it. The more people