Page 24 of Don't Fall For Your Best Friend

She shakes her head quickly, finally pulling out of my hold. “No, let’s just go.”

It’s a short drive to the restaurant, so once I put my Jeep in drive, I focus on the road as she flips through the radio stations. She’s always in control of the radio in my Jeep. Most times she connects her phone’s Bluetooth and plays her own playlist, but not tonight.

“At Velocity Auto Emporium, we’ve got the keys. To the car of your dreams, just come and see! From sleek sedans to rugged trucks,” she sings out. “Velocity Auto Emporium, where your car dreams come true. We’re waiting here, just for you.” She sighs. “I love that jingle.”

I peek over at her, grinning. “I know you do.”

She sings the jingle every time she hears it. And every time it makes me laugh. It’s cute.

“One day, I’ll buy a car from there.”

“And get rid of Norma Jean?” I ask, talking about her red Volkswagen Beetle.

“Norma Jean is on her last leg.”

“I can ask Harold at Harold’s Auto Shop if he can take a look at it.”

Hartford shrugs. “No, it’s okay. I’m just thinking ahead.”

The radio plays a soft tune, and Hartford focuses her attention on the passing quaint scenery of downtown Magnolia Ridge. Boutique shops line the streets the closer we get to Moore’s Restaurant.

“Just remind me again this isn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had,” she whispers.

I glance at her before focusing back on the road. She’s nervous, and as fucked up as it might be, it excites me more.

“This is not the worst idea you’ve ever had. That time you tried to dye your hair blonde would be the worst.”

She groans, covering her face. “Yeah, that was a horrible idea.”

“Breakups do that to you. You wanted change, and while it wasn’t the best change, it was still change.”

“Thanks a lot.”

I reach over and squeeze her hand. “You’re perfect. You don’t need to change anything.”

“Smooth talker.”

I smile as I park the Jeep in Moore’s lot and look over at her. “I’m honest, not a smooth talker.” We stare at each other, and, for a second, I feel like there’s sexual tension in the air. It disappears as quickly as it appeared, but I still felt it. I wonder if she did too.

“You ready?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

We head across the lot toward the entrance, adorned with twinkling fairy lights. Moore’s Restaurant is an upscale place. A rustic-chic place with seasonal American fare, unique wines, and craft beers, courtesy of yours truly, and outdoor seating. It’s not the fanciest joint—you have to head into Saint Pierce for fancy-schmancy—but it’s cozy, with an intimate ambiance due to a single candle on each linen-covered table.

“Paxton, Hartford, it’s so good to see you,” Willow Moore says with a shy smile. “Want a table, or are you going to the bar?”

Willow’s older brothers run this restaurant. It’s been a staple in our small town, and it’s also one of our longest running accounts. We grew up with the Moore’s and they’re stand-up guys.

Willow’s a few years younger than us. Every once in a while she comes into Atta Boy. I don’t know her story, but I can tell she has one. It’s not my place to ask her private questions, so it’s always just been casual pleasantries.

“Hey, Willow. We’re going to sit at a table tonight,” I say, placing my hand on the small of Hartford’s back.

Willow smiles. “Let me check to see what I have available.” She heads back into the dining area while we wait at the front.

A sense of pride rushes through me when Hartford shivers at my touch. I pull out my phone and open the app for the vibrator. This is going to be fun. I press the On button, keeping the vibrations on low, and let it go for five seconds.

“Oh,” she says, widening her eyes as she stares at me. “It’s going to be difficult to keep a straight face. What if everyone knows I’m getting off? What if I go all When Harry Met Sally in here?”

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