“There was no elopement or destination wedding?”

Shelby hugged her. “You’re my best friend. When I get engaged, you’ll be the first to know. I promise. It’s just Aidan and I are friends and everyone has been talking about us like we’re a couple and it’s frustrating so we thought this would be funny.”

Madeline hugged her back, then straightened. “I feel better. I couldn’t believe it when I saw that notice. I was really hurt. I should have trusted you.”

“No, it’s me. I should have said something. I never thought you’d believe it. You know Aidan and I aren’t a couple.”

Madeline looked like she was going to say something, then she shook her head. “You two are weird. You know that, right?”

“I’m beginning to think that might be the case. We’re okay?”

“We are. I have to get back to work. We’ll have lunch soon. Promise?”

“Absolutely.”

Her friend left. Seconds later Mayor Marsha walked in. “Shelby, I wanted to stop by and offer my congratulations. I had a feeling about you two. I’m glad I was right.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“IT WAS TOTALLY INSANE,” Shelby said, still sounding grumpy. “All of it. Mayor Marsha was the worst. Do you know how hard it was to explain to her that it was a joke? She was not amused.”

“I’m glad she came to see you and not me,” Aidan admitted.

“That makes you a complete wiener dog,” she grumbled.

He chuckled. “I can live with that.”

While he’d been startled by the lack of response to their ad, Shelby had taken it much harder. She’d been expecting shrieks and protestations. What she’d gotten instead had been silence or “I told you so’s.”

“I feel bad about Madeline,” she admitted. “I should have let her know what we were doing. But honestly, even she wasn’t totally surprised. She was upset because she thought I’d had a wedding without her being there. As if.”

He closed his eyes and let the words wash over him. He’d learned that when Shelby was upset about something, it was best to let her talk it out. There was no problem for him to fix, nothing for him to do. His job was to listen.

The first few times she’d gone on a tear, he’d been unable to keep his mouth shut. But he’d quickly realized that not only didn’t she appreciate his thoughtful advice, she actually found it annoying. She didn’t want an action plan, she wanted someone to hear her as she worked through the problem over and over again.

Now he was able to simply sink into the words, to respond with encouragement rather than suggestions.

She passed him a towel. “It’s all very strange,” she continued. “But I guess I need to let it go.”

“The retraction will be out Tuesday.”

“I doubt anyone will even notice or care. I thought it was a great joke. I hate being wrong about stuff like that.”

He lifted his left foot out of the hot water and dried it off, then did the same with his right.

The first time Shelby had suggested they give themselves pedicures, he’d about run screaming into the night. He’d explained that he was a man and real men didn’t do that kind of thing. She’d listened patiently, then had reminded him of their deal. Girl thing, boy thing. Pedicures were a girl thing.

So he’d suffered through the experience. After they’d soaked their feet, she’d given him a little kit with all kinds of strange, slightly frightening instruments. She’d taught him how to use them.

He’d had to admit—although only to himself, never to anyone else, even under threat of torture—the experience hadn’t been horrible. It was now something they did together every three weeks. Although he did draw the line at buffing his nails. No way that was manly.