Page 1 of More Than a Good Friend

CHAPTER1

GOLDIE

The mess hall looks like someone let a seven-year-old loose in a party store with an unlimited budget. If I gathered all the helium balloons together, I could probably float away. That’s how many there are. Streamers crisscross the room. And the gold paper crown makes it all the more embarrassing. We’re turning thirty-five, not six.

I don’t even want to think about how much all this stuff cost him.

But Dag is grinning from ear to ear, and I won’t rain on his parade. Most of my parties were a bust because people were busy in January. Presents most years weren’t great because the budget had been blown at Christmas. And Dag knows that.

This ostentatious party is his way of making up for all those lackluster parties.

All our friends from the ranch are here. My family isn’t, which is a good thing. I love my mother, but our relationship is complicated. It’s easier to have a separate family celebration.

Dag drags me to the cake table. “Ava made one for you in your favorite flavor. And one for me. Chocolate of course. And she made a big one so there would be enough.”

He lights all seventy candles, which takes more than a minute. Then the room breaks into song. Smiling while a large group of people sing at you is no less awkward now than it was when I was five.

Thirty-five flaming candles is definitely a fire hazard. And the matching cake beside it only makes this all worse. Actually, it’s not a match at all. The only thing these two cakes have in common is the number of candles on the top.

Dag smiles and winks, childlike delight flickering in his eyes. “Make a wish.”

Oh, I’m making a wish. I hate that after twenty years of carrying a flame for this overgrown child, otherwise known as my best friend, nothing has changed. But that stops today. Giving up on Dag is the only way my wish can come true.

I don’t want to spend my thirty-sixth birthday unattached and dreaming of love.

Dag will always be my good friend, but I’m kicking dirt on that flame and snuffing it out. Anytime it sparks back to life, I’ll douse it again. Because I can’t continue like this. Watching the other ranch hands with the women they love has made one thing abundantly clear. Dag doesn’t love me.

We’re friends. Different as night and day. My cake is strawberry. His is chocolate. I’m rather plain. He’s a hunky cowboy with dazzling green eyes. I can’t get a date to save my life. He has a different date every weekend.

Eyes closed, I suck in a breath and make my wish. I want someone who will fall hopelessly in love with me. Someone who wants to settle down and doesn’t take me for granted. Is that too much to ask?

In one long controlled exhale, I blow out all the candles.

Before I can even boast about my success, the candle in the middle flickers back to life. Then one by one, they all relight, and my wish disappears in whisps of smoke.

Dag howls with laughter. “Better try that again. I think you missed some.”

I flash him a smile, carefully lift a burning candle out of the cake, and drop it into his cup of punch. Then I repeat that thirty-four more times. Thankfully, there is a lot of punch in the cup. And I’m even more thankful the punch isn’t spiked, which I hadn’t considered before tossing lit candles into it.

My wish might’ve gotten messed up, but I’ll just have to make it happen on my own.

His smile falls away. “You aren’t laughing.”

“Prank candles stopped being funny a long time ago.” I pat his shoulder. “You better blow out your candles before all the frosting is inedible.”

He makes a show of blowing them all out. But the last one refuses to extinguish. He only tries harder, which proves me wrong. Trick candles are still funny. Sometimes.

I make eye contact with Dallas who is doing his best to keep a straight face as Dag tries a third time to get the candle to go out.

“Why don’t you just do what I did?” I shove his cup closer to him.

His brow furrowed, he shakes his head. “I only put trick candles on yours. These are real, so I don’t know why it isn’t going out.”

Dallas and Parker can no longer hold it in, and laughter gives them away.

I pick up the last burning candle and drop it in the drink. “Happy Birthday, Dag.”

He bumps my shoulder. “Don’t eat too much cake because I put all your favorite candies and a few surprises in the piñata.”

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