Page 20 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

Then his phone rang, shattering the spell.

We jumped apart like guilty teenagers, though we’d done nothing wrong. Yet. Hunter grabbed his phone, his expression shifting from frustration to something darker—almost frightened—when he saw the screen.

“I need to take this,” he said, backing away. “I’m sorry, I—”

He answered as he walked out, but not before I caught the edge in his voice: “Travis, I told you never to call this number.”

I stood alone in the firelight, my skin tingling where he’d touched me. The warmth of his hands lingered on my face, making it impossible to dismiss what had almost happened as just another moment of weakness. What was I doing? Hunter Miller was here to save Pine Haven, not... whatever this was becoming.

The flames had died down to glowing embers, reminding me of how many family secrets this room had witnessed. Mom used to say these walls held more stories than any history book. Tonight, they’d almost seen another one.

But as I gathered my things to head upstairs, I couldn’t stop touching my lips, wondering how it would have felt if that phone hadn’t rung. The fear in Hunter’s voice, when he’d answered, nagged at me, so different from his usual confidence.

Sleep wasn’t happening. Not after... whatever that was downstairs. After an hour of tossing and turning, I gave up and headed back to my office. The review needed a response, and I might as well use my sleeplessness productively.

But even as I paced my office, trying to focus on drafting responses to Alexis Smith’s review, my mind kept drifting to Hunter’s hands on my face, the way his eyes had darkened just before that phone call.

The phone call.

Hunter still hadn’t returned, though I’d heard his voice earlier, sharp with tension, echoing from somewhere near the back entrance. Now, approaching midnight, light spilled from under his office door down the hall, a beacon in Pine Haven’s darkness.

I shouldn’t check on him. It wasn’t my business. We were partners—strictly professional—and whatever almost happened in the lounge was clearly a moment of weakness. Exhaustion, stress, and the way he’d looked at me like I was precious...

A crash from his office decided for me.

I found him standing over his desk, papers scattered everywhere, one hand gripping his phone like he might throw it soon. His usual composure was completely shattered, reminding me of how he’d looked at his father’s funeral—raw, unguarded, terrifyingly human.

“Hunter?”

He spun around, and for a moment, I didn’t recognize him. Gone was the confident CEO, replaced by someone almost desperate. Then he saw me, and his mask slipped back into place so quickly it was frightening. Like watching Mom try to hide her pain in those final months.

“Amelia.” He started gathering papers, movements jerky. “You should be sleeping.”

“So should you.” I stepped into the office, closing the door behind me. The click seemed to seal us in our private world, like in the lounge earlier. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just business.”

“Don’t.” The word came out sharper than intended. “Don’t lie to me. Not after...” I gestured vaguely, meaning the lounge, the almost-kiss, every moment of trust we’d built.

He stilled, then slowly straightened. In the harsh fluorescent light, I could see the tension in his jaw and the slight tremor inhis hands—hands that had held my face so gently less than an hour ago.

“You’re right.” He sank into his chair, suddenly looking exhausted. “I owe you honesty. But Amelia...” His eyes met mine, pleading. “I can’t. Not about this. Not yet.”

“Is it about Pine Haven?” I moved closer, drawn by the pain in his voice.

“No.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing in waves that made him look younger, more vulnerable. “This is... personal. Family stuff.”

I moved closer, perching on the edge of his desk. The same way I used to sit on Dad’s desk when he had hard decisions to make. “I thought your family except Taylor was all gone?”

“So did I.” The bitterness in his voice made me flinch. I remembered how close the Miller family had been before his father died, how everything had changed.

Without thinking, I reached for his hand. He stared at our joined fingers like they might burn him, but he didn’t pull away. His skin was warm against mine, callused in places I wouldn’t expect from a CEO.

“Whatever it is,” I said softly, “you don’t have to handle it alone.” The same words Mom used to whisper to Dad during hard times.

He looked up at me then, his expression so full of pain and longing it made me tremble. “Using my own words against me?”

“Learning from the best.”

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