Page 13 of Baby for My Best Friend's Brother

“You want to help with party prep?” Her tone is skeptical but amused.

“I want to helpyou.” I give her a lopsided smile. “Bath bombs and chocolates and whatever else you have in there.”

“Okay.” Her face lights up. “Okay. Yeah. That would be nice.”

I walk her to the door, our hands brushing as we go, both of us pretending not to notice.

Outside, the air is cooler. Crisp. The sun hangs low over the mountains, casting golden light across the gravel parking lot. Sophie tugs a cardigan around her shoulders and looks up at the sky like she’s trying to memorize it.

“Smells like woodsmoke and wildflowers out here,” she says softly.

I glance at her, at the soft curve of her smile, at the way her fingers toy with the hem of her sleeve. “Better than traffic and coffee breath?”

She laughs, and I swear I feel that sound somewhere in my chest. “You make a compelling argument.”

We linger on the front steps, neither of us ready to call it. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and her hand brushes mine again.

I glance down at our fingers. “So, about these swag bags… what exactly goes in them?”

She wiggles her eyebrows. “You’ll just have to see.”

“Come on. Give a hint.”

“No way.” She shakes her head.

I lean in. “I have ways of making you talk.”

“I look forward to finding out how.” She steps away and toward Winter’s Jeep, her sundress swaying with every step. “See you soon, mountain man.”

I watch her until she drives around the corner and disappears.

And when I finally turn back toward my truck, my hands are clenched into fists and my chest is tight.

Because I’m in trouble.

And I’d like to get into a lot more of it if she’ll give me the chance.

FIVE

SOPHIE

Cliff unwraps a candle from butcher paper.

Squinting at the name on the bottom of the jar—English rose—he raises it to his nose. He makes a face and pulls it back.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. He looks so horrified. Unfortunately, the little snort that slips out gives my amusement at his expense away.

He narrows his dark brown eyes. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Of course not.”

“Really? Because, to me, it sounded like you were laughing.”

A fresh urge to laugh bubbles inside of me, but I tamper it down. It would be rude of me to laugh at his struggle. Especially when he’s the one doing me a favor right now.

Part of me can’t believe he came. That he offered to help.

Winter has always spoken well of her brother. And my first impressions of him have been, well, better than I could have imagined. But that doesn’t mean I expected him to willingly sacrifice an evening of his life in the name of assembling welcome baskets for wedding guests.

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