Page 62 of Don't Fall For Your Best Friend

Anya and I share a look of shock.

“What?” my mother asks, swatting at us both with a towel. “You need to get your girl a drink before one of your brothers steals her away. She’s a catch.”

I glance at the bottle of lemonade in my hand and nod at my mother. “They’d never steal her away.”

“You sure about that?” my mother asks and my heart plummets.

I rush back into the living room, and Brock and Tripp have shown up while I was in the kitchen.

Tripp’s got his arms around Hartford, wrapping her into a tight hug as they exchange hellos. My insides boil over with anger. I’ve seen Tripp hug Hartford a million times over the years and I’ve never been jealous before. Maybe mildly jealous, but nothing like what I’m feeling right now.

Hartford’s beautiful in a light-brown dress with bright yellow flowers all over it. It’s short, and she’s paired it with a pair of brown cowboy boots. Her auburn hair is down and curlier than usual, and her makeup makes her eyes really pop.

She’s breathtaking, and now I’m watching my brothers fawn all over her. Even my father has his attention focused on Hartford.

“I heard about your house, sweetheart. Let me know if you need anything,” my father says after Tripp has finished hugging her. Which took way too long if you ask me.

“Thanks, Don. I appreciate that. I’m good though. I’m staying with Paxton while the repairs happen and between the insurance and my aunt, there’s no money out of my pocket, thankfully,” Hartford says.

My dad nods. “The most important thing is that you weren’t hurt. Everything else is replaceable.” He looks at me and back at her. “You are irreplaceable.”

That’s the damn truth.

“You’re sweet, Don,” she says.

“Dad, quit hogging Hartford. I haven’t gotten my arms around her yet,” Brock says, hugging her as he lifts her.

“Asshole,” I mumble.

“What’s wrong with you?” Shepherd asks.

I pull my eyes away from the obvious display to piss me off—which worked—and look at Shep. “Nothing.”

“Right,” he says with amusement on his face.

“Hey, Hartford. Sorry about your house. Hope my little brother is making you feel welcome,” Callum says.

“He is,” she says, trying to hide her smile. Which makes me puff out my chest with pride.

I go over and wrap my arm around her, squeezing her side. “She’s well taken care of. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, she is, huh?” Brock asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Enough, Brock,” my dad says, shaking his head.

I grin as I lead Hartford back to the love seat. Shepherd and Callum are still seated on the couch, and Tripp plops down on the couch next to them. Brock heads into the kitchen to say hello to our mother, and I want to wrap my arms around Hartford and have her snuggle down beside me as we watch the game on TV.

That would be too obvious, and I don’t want to give my brothers any ammunition.

Brock heads back into the living room, leaning against the frame of the entryway from the kitchen to the living area.

“You can have my spot,” Hartford says, getting up, and I try to reach out because I don’t want her to go. “Where are you going?” I ask her, hoping she’s not trying to make the great escape. I know my family can be overbearing at times, but Hartford’s been at my house more times than I can even count. She’s also been a guest of many Sunday dinners over the years, so this shouldn’t be too much for her.

“I’m going to hang out with the girls in the kitchen,” she says, walking away from me.

Brock throws his body into the spot Hartford just vacated, and knocks me in the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What?” I ask.

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