Page 13 of Never Kiss Your Brother's Best Friend

"His name is Buddy," Emma replies. "He was hurt, so Sterling has agreed to keep him until he's healed and ready to find a home. Isn't that adorable?"

She shoots me a wink, and my knees wobble. It's a harmless gesture, and her hazel eyes are sparkling with humor, but it sets my heart pounding.

"How perfect!" my mom exclaims. "It'll do him some good to have some company around at home."

"Dad!" I call out, catching sight of him in the living room. I'm taking the opportunity to change the subject by the reins.

He looks up from his newspaper, his face breaking into a grin. "Good to see you, Son."

We step inside, and as I look around, I take in the sights and smells of my childhood. There are photos of me and my brothers scattered across the wall, and a large painting of a red barn hangs over the mantle.

It's a simple place, but it's comfortable and full of memories. Mom disappears into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the meal, leaving Emma and me in the cozy living room.

Dad, always the picture of calm, sets his newspaper aside and extends a hand toward Emma. "You still look beautiful, my dear Emma. Haven't aged a day."

She giggles and gives his hand a light squeeze. "It's good to see you, too, Mr. Cole. Happy Birthday."

"Thanks, sweetheart," he says, stroking his short beard. "Dinner's almost ready, if you two are hungry."

"I'm starving," I say, rubbing my stomach. "The festival food was great, but it didn't quite fill me up."

"Well, then, what are you waiting for?" Dad asks with a chuckle. "Let's get to it."

The three of us make our way to the kitchen. Mom has everything laid out on the table. She's made a pot roast and mashed potatoes. The scent of the meal fills my nose, and my stomach rumbles.

"Wow, Mom," I say. "You've outdone yourself. I would've taken you guys out somewhere nice, you know."

"It's your father's favorite dinner," Mom explains, handing me a plate. "No restaurant could replace a good old-fashioned home cooked meal. Besides, I enjoy cooking. It's relaxing. Now, sit down and dig in, the two of you."

We sit down at the table and Mom and Dad are across from us. The food is delicious, and I take my time savoring every bite.

"So, Emma," Mom begins, "how's the city treating you? Still teaching energetic elementary school kids in Memphis?"

Emma laughs, a warm and melodic sound. "Yes, indeed. The kids keep me on my toes, but I love every moment of it. It's a different world from Cedar Creek, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Dad nods in agreement. "City life can be quite a whirlwind. How often do you get to visit your family here?"

"Well, not as often as I'd like," Emma admits, casting a glance in my direction. "But it's always a treat to come back to home. I miss the trees and the lake. It's my little slice of heaven."

"Mine too," Dad says. "It's nice here, quiet. The town has always had a calming effect on my spirit."

"You're right about that," Emma agrees. "I still remember all the little places that were around when I was a kid. The town is a little bigger now. The people are still the same, though."

"And you're still a part of the town, too, Emma," Mom chimes in.

As the conversation flows, I can't help but notice how well Emma connects with my family. Dad shares stories from the past, reminiscing about the adventures my brothers and I had growing up in Cedar Creek. Emma listens with genuine interest. She just fits in with us so well after all these years. It's unreal.

I find myself stealing glances at Emma. Her movements fascinate me. The way her eyes light up when she talks, the way she absentmindedly strokes Buddy's fur. I wonder about her plans, about whether she envisions a future in Cedar Creek someday.

Does she see herself settling down here, or is her heart set on city life?

After dinner, I help Dad with the dishes while Emma takes the dog out to use the bathroom. As we scrub the dishes and set them aside to dry, Dad nudges me. "What's going on with you, son?"

I sigh, running the dish brush under the water. "What do you mean? Nothing is going on with me."

"You've got that faraway look about you. The way you look when you're thinking about something."

"It's nothing, Dad," I assure him. "Just a long day."

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