Page 2 of Falling for my Brother's Best Friend

“I wasn’t drunk.”

I step toward the drawer and jut out my hip. He could be a gentleman and step aside, but he doesn’t.

“I don’t think you were drunk either,” he says.

I stare into his bright blue eyes then let my gaze drift down his tattoo-covered arms that aren’t hidden by his Smokin’ Guns Tattoo Shop T-shirt. I remember when he shot those T-shirts out of a handheld cannon blaster at the last Founder’s Day Parade. They were a hit, as is everything he does in Lake Starlight. Young and old, people love him.

“It doesn’t matter whether I was or wasn’t. It changes nothing. We’re not—”

“Spare me the lecture, I have it memorized.” He pushes off the counter, the blue of his eyes lighting with humor. “The fact remains that you couldn’t resist me.”

Liam Kelly couldn’t be any fuller of himself. Yes, he’s hot, but if he thinks I’m going to sleep with him just to be tossed aside like one of his Smokin’ Guns groupies, he’s wrong.

I open the drawer, grab a spoon, and slam it closed. I whip around to face him. “What do you want from me?”

He opens the paper that was sitting on the counter and takes a seat on a breakfast stool. “Nothing, Savannah. That’s your problem. You always think everyone wants something from you.”

He’s got to be kidding me.

“Because everyone does. Everyone always wants or needs something from me. Ever since I was nineteen, it’s been Bailey Timber or Austin or Grandma Dori or this town. You wanna see the list of people who depend on me?” My phone dings in my purse as though it’s agreeing with me. I don’t need to look at the message to know that it will be someone who needs something.

He continues to read the paper, cool and collected, while annoyance grates at me as if I’m a chunk of cheese.

He has no idea what it’s like to have all the responsibilities of the second oldest Bailey. The one who was chosen to take over the family business. I can’t even remember who I was before my parents died.

After a minute of me staring daggers into the side of his head, he says, “I said I don’t want anything.”

“And you’re lying.” I shove a spoonful of yogurt into my mouth.

He lowers the paper. “You’re right. I’m lying. I’d like you to admit that you weren’t drunk on Saturday.”

I throw my hands in the air. “Seriously? What does it matter to you?”

The paper falls from his hands and he leans back. I soak him in once again, pushing back the memories of what it felt like to have his hands all over me.

He says, “It’d be nice to see you be honest with yourself for once.”

“Why? So you’ll feel better? Are you looking to up the caliber of woman in your bed from giggling girl to sophisticated woman?” I heap another spoonful of yogurt into my mouth.

He narrows his eyes. “You know what Saturday was. Tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

I clean off the spoon and put it in the dishwasher before throwing away my yogurt container. “What was it then? If you remember, I ran out of the room.”

I’m starting a fight I can’t win. We didn’t fall into bed while stripping off each other’s clothes in a drunken haze. We had a heavy make-out session like horny teenagers. His words of praise for my body have repeated in my head ever since, but I can’t live in some fairyland where I’m the one woman who could make him change his ways.

“If I have to tell you, then you’re not worth it.”

His words cut deep, as he meant them to. Rarely does Liam say anything without thinking it through. That’s where he differs from my brothers. The three of them may be best friends, but Denver and Rome say whatever, whenever without thinking of the consequences. Liam though, he chooses his words wisely and with purpose.

My phone dings again and I sigh. “Fine. I need to get to work.” I slide on my heels and swing my bags over my shoulder, digging my cell phone out of my purse.

“You gotta bear all that weight, right? I mean, the success of everything rests on you.” His back is to me. He’s stripped off his T-shirt and is digging through the fridge.

I stand in place, staring at him. My shoulders fall, my bitchy attitude faltering. I hate that we’re like this. “You just don’t understand… I mean, the company and the family. Grandma Dor—”

“Don’t worry, Sav. I’m a big boy.” He raises his hand, his back still toward me. “Have a great day.”

Defeat consumes me. I wish I could break the distance, place my hands on his hips and cast a trail of kisses up his back, taste the saltiness of his skin and trace his intricate tattoos with my tongue. Instead, I spin on my heel and slam the door behind me.

My phone dings again.

“For the love of God, who wants something now?” I yell, thankful Liam lives miles from neighbors.

But my anger dissipates when I open the text message thread with my sister and see a picture of her and Wyatt inside a chapel in Las Vegas, their left hands raised. In full Brooklyn fashion, she writes Guess What? Followed by another text.

Brooklyn: Time to plan a reception, Maid of Honor. YAY!

I stare at the phone before looking back at the house one more time. Liam would be the best kind of distraction to make me forget that I’m going to die alone after watching all my siblings get their happily ever afters.

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