Page 71 of Don't Fall For Your Best Friend

“Pass the ketchup,” Brock says, during lunch at Atta Boy.

I hand it to him and he squirts a mound onto his plate. Lunch with my brothers—minus Tripp, who is in school—happens often to discuss business. Griffin usually tests his new recipes on us, but today he’s made Hartford’s favorite Cowboy Burger. It’s obvious why it’s her favorite and one of our top sellers.

“I have a new recipe idea I want to run by everyone, but I’m not ready yet. It’ll be ready for tasting this weekend,” Brock says, slathering a fry with ketchup.

“Looking forward to it,” Shepherd says.

“Mark, The Smokehouse’s owner contacted me this morning,” I say, grinning. “He decided on two lines,”

“No shit? Great job,” Callum says with a proud smile. “You can sell anything to anyone.”

I nod and take a sip of beer. “Pretty much.”

I can sell anything to anyone, but I can’t seem to sell myself to Hartford. She’s so confusing, sending mixed signals constantly. Just when I’m sure we’re on the same page, she compliments me on what a great friend I am. But, just like when I’m selling beer, I will continue to push until I get the result I want.

“Anya called me again,” Callum says.

I pin him with my stare. “Please tell me you guys sat down and had a discussion.”

“In my opinion, it’s a good idea,” Brock says with a shrug.

I agree and have told Callum many times, but he’s being his usual stubborn self.

“Look, she’s just out of college,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “The idea could work, but the numbers aren’t adding up right now. Maybe in a few months.”

“You need to tell her, Callum. She will be pissed, so be ready for the backlash,” I say, shaking my head.

“We’re all going to get the backlash,” Shepherd says.

He’s right about that. I’d love to push Callum into agreeing to her idea, but once he makes his mind up, it’s pointless. He’s a grouchy, nasty fucker, especially when he feels cornered.

“Hey, I made one too many burgers. Does anyone want another?” Griffin says, walking up to the table.

“No, I’m stuffed,” Brock says.

“Same, but thanks,” Shepherd says.

“I’m good. You have it,” Callum says.

“I had one already. I don’t want to toss it,” he replies.

As always, Hartford is on my mind and I turn to look at Griffin. “Wrap it up, Griff. I’ll take it to Hartford at work for her lunch.” I stand. “It’s her favorite.”

“You’re leaving?” Callum asks.

I toss my napkin down and push my chair in. “Yeah, nothing else to discuss, and I want to get this burger to Hartford while it’s still hot.”

“Bringing the wife lunch. She must’ve put out last night,” Brock says, smirking.

I go to take a swing at his smug face, but Shepherd is quicker and jumps up, pushing me back.

“Pax, chill,” he says.

“Never talk about her like that again. Joking or not, I’ll fucking rip your heart out of your chest,” I bite out over Shepherd’s shoulder.

“Brock, get to the fucking back. Now,” Callum says, standing. “Pax, get your shit together. You look ridiculous.” With that, he and Brock stomp away.

Shepherd steps back from me, and I run a hand through my hair. “Fuck.”

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