Page 6 of Don't Fall For Your Best Friend

Tripp: youngest Atwood, the least involved in the brewery, helps out bussing tables and cleaning a few days a week, but he hates it. He’d rather party all night long instead.

By the time I arrive at the brewery, I’ve only got minutes to spare before my meeting with Paxton. As soon as I hustle inside and make my way back to the bar area, I’m engulfed in a bear hug by Brock.

“Haven’t seen you in a minute,” Brock says, lifting me off my feet, his beard tickling my cheek. He spins me around and sets me down. “Where have you been hiding?”

I snicker, swatting at his arm playfully. “Paxton keeps me locked in the dungeon.”

He winks. “I believe it. That motherfucker doesn’t like to share.”

Tripp steps into the mix and hugs me. “Great to see you, Hartford.”

“Okay, unhand my bestie,” Paxton says, walking up to his younger brothers.

I glance around the bustling bar. “You guys are busy.”

Brock nods. “It’s the delicious beer I’ve been brewing. I’m trying out new flavors and combinations.”

I kneel before him. “Ah, teach me your ways, all-powerful beer maker.”

Paxton grabs my hand and helps me up. “Don’t kneel for this jackass.”

His unwavering protectiveness never fails to bring a smile to my lips.

Callum joins the fray, and I stand back, grinning, while they banter with each other. The only brother missing is Shepherd. Paxton said he’d be back in the next week or so. He’s down in Florida helping their cousins, Ellis and Urban Atwood, who own Bearded Goat Brewery. I’ve met them a few times at family gatherings, and there must be something magical in the Atwood DNA, because they’re all so handsome. Like they could have their own Atwood calendar.

Of course, Paxton would be the star, because he’s the best-looking Atwood. Hands down.

Like there’s no competition.

Plus, he’s charming. And I’m not biased. The individuals he meets during his travels as a beer representative for Atta Boy would have the same opinion. He’s gained many accounts for the brewery and is one of the best salesmen I know.

I think it’s the Atwood charm he possesses.

They’ve all got it, and it’s probably one reason I haven’t dated in forever.

No one can live up to Paxton.

It sucks, but it’s true.

Chapter Four

Paxton

My brothers continue to talk with Hartford and surround her like she’s either their prey, or their goddess. I do love that my family loves her. However, right now, I’m on the outside of this circle around her and I’m not having that.

She’s my best friend.

I push through and stand in front of her. “I’m sure you all have work to do.”

“I don’t,” Tripp says, hopping up on a stool.

I playfully nudge him away, eliciting laughter from the crowd as he regains his footing. “Well, if you don’t have any tables to bus, then find something to do. Hartford and I need to discuss a project she’s writing for work.”

“What are you working on?” Brock asks, his eyebrow arching in a subtle display of curiosity, his voice carrying a hint of intrigue.

A delicate blush rises to color her cheeks, and she steals a quick glance in my direction, her eyes shimmering with bashfulness.

“She’s writing an article about all the ways to kill your siblings without getting caught. I’m giving her all the best ideas.”

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