Page 3 of Never Kiss Your Brother's Best Friend

His eyes twinkle when he says it. I pull myself together the best I can, sending a message to my heart to stop the party. Then smile up at him. "Ha. I'd take you any day."

Oops. That did not come out exactly how I had it planned. I blame the heart party, it's still raging on.

"Hmm. Good to know. Maybe we should find out someday," he counters with a playful smirk.

After that comment, I give up on trying to control my heart. Party on.

My brother Peter looks sharp in his suit standing at the altar. I'm struck for a moment with that “you're getting so old” thing that always happens at weddings. Just yesterday we were a bunch of crazy kids who got into lots of trouble together, and now we’re all grown up. We've got jobs, mortgages—all that adult stuff.

The ceremony is touching, and as soon as the pastor pronounces the happy couple husband and wife, Peter sweeps Linda into a passionate kiss as applause and cheers erupt all around them.

Sterling flashes me an almost bashful smile, and I beam back at him with no shame. A kiss like that is romantic and wonderful, even if it is my brother’s.

I've always wanted to find someone who wants to kiss me like that but so far no luck.

Sterling politely extends his elbow, and I take his arm once again as we follow the couple toward the ballroom at the end of the path.

I glance ahead to see that Dean is leading the way back to the venue with purposeful strides. He's told me more than once that he wants to ditch the reception, but I'm not skipping out on my brother's wedding. That's ridiculous.

Plus, I'm looking forward to the party later. Dean might prefer high-society events, but my favorite kind of reception has a spirited electric slide, good slow dance music, and my favorite people in the world.

When we finally make it inside and I take my seat beside Dean, it's obvious that I'm sitting with the wrong person. Dean is withdrawn, pulling out his phone instead of making small talk with the rest of the table.

"Ready to go, Emma?" he asks without looking up from his device.

I blink at him. "Are you kidding? It's my brother's big day. Besides, I'd hate to miss the chicken dance. Just wait until you see your girl's moves." I curl my arms and wave my elbows around like they're bird wings, and he just scowls at me and goes back to his texting or whatever he's doing.

This is going to be a long day.

Chapter two

STERLING

I can’t take my eyes off Emma. She’s the most beautiful woman in the room, even in that ridiculously unflattering gown, and she doesn’t even know it.

Too bad she’s with him.

That guy Dean won't even look Emma in the eyes. He seems too distracted by whatever is on his phone. Idiot.

I haven’t seen Emma much since my high school graduation. We’ve run into each other here and there, but nothing serious. We aren't close friends anymore, which is a shame considering how tight we were back in the day.

Seeing her at the wedding brings a flood of memories back to me. She was my best friend Peter’s little sister when we were kids. She always had the biggest smile every time she saw me and golden hair that looked like it was kissed by the sun. I've never forgotten those bright hazel eyes.

When Peter had baseball practice, she and I would go hang out on their big tire swing in the backyard and talk for hours. Mostly, she talked, and I listened.

And then around the time she turned fifteen, something changed. One day, she wasn't just Emma, Peter's funny, bouncy little sister anymore. Somehow, she went from cute to breathtaking overnight, and I was enamored.

But it wasn't something I could share with anyone. She was off limits according to Peter, so I never made a move. And by that time, we'd spent too many years as friends to ever be anything more, or so I told myself.

I’m sure there's no way Peter would allow me to date her now, either. Besides, she's obviously with someone else, even if he doesn't strike me as the type to really appreciate her and see her for all that she is.

She still looks amazing, and I find myself mesmerized by her lips as she sips champagne from the flute cradled in her hand. She's glowing under the chandeliers in the massive event hall.

I sigh and shake my head, finishing my drink and signaling for the waitress to get me another one as I pat my breast pocket, with my handwritten speech inside it. I know it by heart, so it's more of a prop than anything else.

Boy do I hate speaking in public, but this is the moment, like it or not.

I clear my throat and step on the stage, tapping the mic and fumbling with the stand. Then I clear my throat again and glance around, catching Emma's eye, and flash her a smile. She winks at me before I look down and pull out my speech.

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