“Ha-ha, very funny!” Annika snapped. “Look, you can’t deny it. We met at that conference last summer. I … um, told you about my plans for Make Up—” Annika couldn’t help flooding with heat at the memory of where they’d been when she’d told him. “—and then, bam. You launch a company that, I’m sorry, feels like a complete rip-off of mine. Beyond that, your company is anathema to mine. No, actually, it’s anathema to my entire philosophy on life. I strive to reunite lovers and give them their happily-ever-afters, and you do your damnedest to make people miserable and alone for their entire lives.”

“That’s quite a story you’ve concocted there.” The redheaded dude sniffed. “Is your real name J. K. Rowling?”

It was the weakest comeback in the history of comebacks. At any other time, Annika would’ve laughed in his face, but she wasn’t feeling very amused at the moment. She gave him a withering look. He stepped back, looking caught out.

Hudson Craft held up a hand and spoke to the redhead. “It’s okay, Ziggy. People deal with jealousy in all different ways. Annika, apparently, has opted to believe that we owe our success to her.” He chuckled. “Hey, whatever floats your boat. Wish I was that confident. I think I’d be a lot happier about some of my more dismal failures.” His lackeys laughed.

“My company is not a dismal failure! And I am not jealous! You just—you—” Annika pushed her fists against her head and let out a frustrated groan. “You’re just such an asshole!”

She turned to stalk out, purposely stomping on as many stupid Nerf darts as she could along the way. “You just moved in and the first things you unpack are Nerf guns and a gong? You’re all adults. Maybe act like it!” she yelled over her shoulder.

“Nice seeing you, neighbor!” Hudson called as she yanked the door open. She could hear the smile in his voice and wanted to turn around and unload another round of Nerf darts in his face. “Come by anytime! Tomorrow we’ll have cookies and milk.”

Cookies and milk. Cookies and milk? Annika couldn’t resist asking, “What’s next? A brown bag session with PB&J and ants on a log? Naptime?” She shut the door behind her before he had a chance to respond. Something about Hudson’s easy, boastful confidence—that he had no right to have, by the way—really got under her skin.