Page 36 of Resisting the Running Back

Or will Miller eventually find somebody who he reallydoeswant to marry? Somebody who doesn’t love the fact that his best friend is a girl that he’s been engaged to, fake or not. Somebody who doesn’t believe in platonic friendships between men and women. Someone who’s jealous of the history we share. Someone who gets closer to Cassie than me because she’s the one who gets to bond with her true sister-in-law.

I couldn’t take him ending up with someone with those sorts of jealousy issues, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would fall into that trap anyway.

Still, it’s a very real and scary potential future for us, one where I’m written out of the story because I’mjustthe best friend.

What if I want to be more than that?

I can’t say I’veneverconsidered it. But as we formed a close friendship, I forced the thoughts away. I’m the girl-next-door type. He could have any woman in any room. He’s handsome, he’s talented, he’s smart, he’s kind. He’s frickin’ hilarious.

And he’s a good friend. The best friend I’ve ever had.

He chuckles, and the sound startles me from my thoughts. I glance up at him as I realize I’ve been staring at my phone as allof this has been racing through my mind.

All that time, he’s been staring atme.

“Not sure what to say?” he asks. “Give it an hour at the very least.”

I laugh as I try to mask my true thoughts. “You’re probably right.” I slip my phone into my pocket, and I sigh as I follow him into the house. “Tonight was fun.”

“Cassie’s the best,” he says as he saunters over toward the fridge. “He really managed to meet his match in her.”

“How’s he with her kids?” I ask.

He lifts a shoulder. “Great, actually. He loves them like they’re his own.” He pulls a canned margarita out of the fridge for me and a beer for himself. “Want one?”

I glance at the clock. It’s already eight, and to be honest, that’s usually about when I go to bed. I’m used to my teaching routine where I get up at four to write for a couple of hours before I shower and head to school. I haven’t fallen out of that habit yet, and besides, I’m exhausted after today’s events. I don’t really drink all that much, either, yet a drink with Miller sounds fun. “A margarita in a can?”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.”

I wrinkle my nose and eventually nod, and he cracks open the can like a gentleman before he pushes it across the counter toward me. He opens his beer and holds up his can in my direction.

I hold mine up, too, a little reticent about actually drinking a canned margarita, but I probably had enough at the restaurant that I’ll barely taste this one anyway.

“To more fun nights,” he says, and I tap my can to his.

We each take a sip, and I let the sour liquid swirl around on my tongue for a beat as I study the can. “This is good.”

His eyes flick to my lips, and my chest tightens for a quick beat as an errant butterfly seems to take flight.

Pull it together, Summers,I berate myself. He’s just looking at my mouth because I just tasted a canned margarita.

“I’ve never tried them. Cassie left them here when Tanner moved out, and she told me to give one to the next girl I brought home.”

I giggle. “And whoever that was refused to drink a canned margarita?”

He shakes his head, and his eyes climb slowly up to mine. “No. You’re the next girl I brought home.”

Heat seems to sizzle through the air between us as our eyes stay connected a beat longer than they should, and I clear my throat as I tear my gaze away.

What the hell am I doing?

I chug my canned margarita.

That’ll surely help.

“So Cassie’s kids are five and seven?” I ask, trying to change the sudden charge of energy in the air. I lift myself up so I’m sitting on the counter, and he sits across from me on the island.

He nods. “Five going on fifteen, and the boy is turning eight soon.”

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