Page 9 of Never Kiss Your Brother's Best Friend

"You remember the first time we played this game?" she asks.

I chuckle. "Of course."

"It was the last day of summer before your freshman year. Remember?"

I nod, my grin broadening. "How could I forget? I was determined to win you a stuffed animal, but the thing was rigged. It took me thirty dollars to get a five dollar prize."

She snickers. "It wasn't rigged. You just weren't any good at it."

"Maybe. But you still can't master it, either. Your aim is all over the place," I tease.

She makes a face at me. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

I grin, enjoying the sound of her laugh. After the way she left the wedding, it's good to see her looking so cheerful. She's wearing a bright blue sundress and strappy sandals. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a messy bun, and she has a cute little flower tucked behind her ear. She's glowing in the late afternoon sunlight, and my pulse is suddenly racing.

"Sterling, you're zoning out," she says, giving me a curious look.

"I'm sorry," I say, shaking my head. "What did you say?"

"I said throw it already!" She laughs, gesturing to the ring toss game.

I shrug and toss the ring. It falls just short of the bottles. Emma groans and puts her hands over her eyes.

"It's a lost cause, Sterling," she says. "I think you're right. The game is rigged."

She skips along to the next booth, where they're selling carved wooden statues. Her skirt flutters in the wind, and her soft curls bounce behind her. She's always had the most incredible hair, long and light and thick, and now, the way it frames her face... She's stunning.

"How've you been, Emma? Since the wedding, I mean."

Her smile falters, and for a moment, the carefree facade drops. But then she perks right back up and leans in close. “We don’t mention that thing, remember?” She puts her finger to my lips, and I’m suddenly tongue-tied at her touch. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice and bounds away with a smile.

“I’m surviving,” she says.

When I regain my senses I say, "Sorry, I don't mean to bring up a sore subject. I just haven't seen you since then, and I was worried about you."

"Aw, thanks Sterling. You’re the best.” Her eyes stay fixed on a wooden sculpture of a dolphin as she speaks.

"The wedding went on, Dean is gone, and that's all that matters. I've got my friends and family, and they've all got my back. I’ll be just fine."

I nod, studying her for a moment. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm always around." Her gaze meets mine and, in that moment, I notice a small smudge of chocolate nestled on the corner of her mouth, leftover from her fried Oreo. Without a second thought, I find myself leaning in slowly, instinctively drawn to the temptation before me, intent on kissing it away.

Just then, a small, scruffy dog comes barreling into us, taking us both down. We collapse in a heap on the ground. Emma lands on top of me… again. I’m breathless from her nearness but manage to play it off with a chuckle. “We have got to stop meeting like this,” I say.

As we disentangle ourselves from the pup’s enthusiastic greeting, I notice a mixture of amusement and embarrassment flickering across her face. “Tell me about it.” She lets out a laugh. Her cheeks flush slightly as she adjusts her position and moves off of me.

We both stand up and call the puppy, whose tail is wagging furiously, closer.

Emma squeals in delight as the dog trots over to her, but when she realizes the poor thing is limping, she gasps. "Oh my gosh, look at this little guy! Where did you come from?" she coos, crouching down to scratch the dog behind the ears.

"He's not one we brought with us from the shelter. He kind of looks like a stray, but maybe he got separated from his owner in this chaos."

Emma pouts. "Poor thing. We can't just leave him here, Sterling."

"I guess not. We can look around a bit, see if we can find who he belongs to. If we don't find anybody, I can take him back to the clinic and see if he's chipped. See if he has an owner."

Her eyes light up. "That's a great idea! I'll come with you."

We spend a half an hour wandering the festival, but nobody comes looking for the dog. He seems nice, definitely a mix of some sort. He's cute and friendly, and Emma is obviously charmed by him. Finally, we decide to head back to the clinic, where we can scan him. Emma holds the little dog on her lap as I drive, smooching his little head the whole way.

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