Page 48 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

“Act normal,” I finished. “Give them rope.”

“Exactly.” Something hardened in her expression. “We’ve got eyes on him. Take care of her.”

I watched Amelia laugh with a young family, helping their children trace festival routes on colorful maps. Her hair caught the morning light, and a wave of emotion swept over me. “Always.”

The morning flowed into afternoon, Pine Haven’s familiar sounds filling me with an overwhelming tenderness—children’s laughter echoing off ancient beams, the gentle strum of local musicians by the fountain, vendors calling greetings in familiar mountain accents. The aroma of Marie’s famous bear claws mingled with pine needles warmed by the sun, creating a scent uniquely Pine Haven.

“Hey, what’s on your mind?” Claire appeared beside me, tablet tucked under her arm. Her eyes constantly scanned the crowd—a new habit since taking on festival security coordination. I’d noticed how personally she’d taken each threat, staying late into the night to triple-check protocols.

“Just thinking she was right,” I nodded toward Amelia, now leading a historical tour. Her voice carried across the courtyard as she shared stories of Pine Haven’s early days, her passion evident in every word. “About what this place means to people.”

“Gross, you’re getting mushy.” But Claire’s smile held genuine warmth. “Security updates. Wheeler has made three calls since arriving. Our team’s monitoring.”

“And the other matter?”

“Dinner arrangements confirmed. Secret service level security in place.” She winked, but I caught the concern beneath her teasing. “Romance, with a side of responsible protection. Just...” She hesitated. “Be careful up there, okay? Some of us are invested in this whole thing working out.”

I’d been planning this all day, a proper date to make up for the one Wheeler interrupted. My certainty grew as I watched Amelia work her magic through the festival. She knew every returning guest by name, greeting the Wilsons—their fortieth year visiting Pine Haven—with genuine hugs. She helped Mrs. Patel find the perfect viewing spot for the artists’ demonstration, remembering the elderly woman’s preference for shade and quiet.

“The place hasn’t felt this alive in years,” Marie beamed from her pastry stall, already half-sold out of her famous bear claws. A line of tourists and locals alike waited eagerly for her mountain berry tarts.

The old ski lodge buzzed with life, transformed into an artisan marketplace. Tom Parker’s wife, Pat, demonstrated traditional mountain quilting patterns while sharing stories of pieces made for generations of Pine Haven guests. Local photographers’ work lined the walls, stunning shots capturing the property throughseasons and years. Some featured Amelia’s mother at various events, her smile so like her daughter’s it stirred a deep ache within me.

“Hunter!” Amelia caught my eye across the crowd, sunlight catching the auburn highlights in her hair. “Tell them about the environmental education center plans.”

Pride warmed my chest as we outlined our vision together, her hand occasionally brushing mine as we talked. Each brief touch sent awareness shimmering through me, but I maintained a professional focus. The reporters seemed genuinely impressed, especially when Claire shared community response statistics.

“Social media’s exploding,” Claire announced later, her excitement clear as she showed us her phone. “The hashtag #PineHavenCommunity is trending locally. Look at these photos people are sharing!”

Through the afternoon, I caught glimpses of Wheeler skulking around the edges of celebrations, his expensive suit out of place among festival wear. His face darkened with each positive media interaction, each successful event. When the local news crew arrived to cover the traditional sunset ceremony, barely concealed fury radiated from him.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered as he passed, but I barely heard him. I was watching Amelia lead a group of children in making traditional pine cone bird feeders, her laugh carrying across the grounds. She looked so much like the photo of her mother doing the same activity fifteen years ago—the one hanging in her office—that my heart squeezed.

The festival wound down as Golden Hour painted Pine Haven in warm amber tones. Guests lingered, reluctant to let the magical day end. When Amelia finally handed off closing duties to Claire, I was waiting.

“Got plans tonight?” I asked casually, though my heart hammered.

She smiled tiredly, a smudge of glitter from the children’s craft station sparkling on her cheek. “Sleep?”

“Counter offer.” I took her hand, savoring the way her fingers naturally intertwined with mine. “Let me take you to dinner. Somewhere special.”

“Hunter...” She glanced around at the lingering security teams, concern creasing her brow.

“All arranged.” I squeezed her fingers. “Agent Blake approved the location herself.” I watched hope battle exhaustion in her eyes. “Let me give you this. Please?”

Her expression softened. “How can I say no when you ask like that?”

An hour later, I led her onto Pine Haven’s highest trail. The path was lined with tiny solar lights, their gentle glow matching the emerging stars overhead. She gasped when she saw what waited in the clearing—a table for two draped in cream linen, twinkling lights strung in the surrounding pines, and a view of the sunset painting her beloved mountains in shades of rose and gold.

“Hunter...” Her voice caught.

“Too much?” I watched her face anxiously.

“It’s perfect.” Tears shimmered in her eyes as she took in the setup. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

“You deserve perfect things,” I said simply, leading her to the table.

Dinner was intimate and relaxed, security teams maintaining a discrete distance. The gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers from Claire’s arranged centerpiece, mixing with the pine-scented mountain air. Amelia’s laugh, her real one that crinkled her nose, came more freely with each passing moment.

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