Page 4 of Baby for My Best Friend's Brother

“Winter,” I release a heavy sigh. “I really appreciate what you’re doing, but can we talk about something—anything—else?”

“Oh, fine.” She turns the Jeep back on and merges onto the road. “I guess I’ll just have to tell you about the issues we’re having with the catering.”

I relax back in my seat. “That sounds perfect.”

TWO

CLIFF

The number of vehicles parked in front of Winter and Slate’s place gives me pause.

The loud music and even louder conversations and laughter nearly have me putting my truck in reverse.

I love my sister. In fact, there’s no one on Earth I love more than her. I’m even happy she’s found herself a man to marry. I’m even happier it’s a guy I actually like and respect.

That doesn’t mean I have to love or be happy about spending a night celebrating their upcoming nuptials with a bunch of strangers. Not to mention the acquaintances who I wish were strangers.

The things I do for my sister. With a groan, I jump out of my truck and grab a couple bags of ice from the passenger seat. Our grandma always told us we should never show up to a party empty-handed. I’m all thumbs in the kitchen, but a party can always use more ice, right?

Tucking a bag under each arm and grabbing the rest, I make my way toward the house.

“Howdy, stranger.”

I start, nearly dropping the bags. Slate, Winter’s fiancé, appears from the shed carrying what appears to be more charcoal.

I clear my throat. “Hell of a part you’ve got going on.”

“That’s all your sister.” He holds up his bags of charcoal. “I’m just here to grill.”

“And I’m just here to bring ice.”

“Good call on the ice. Your sister will be thrilled.”

From the look he gives me, I can tell he doesn’t just mean about the ice.

“Yeah, parties aren’t usually my thing.”

“Mine either.” He still looks like he wants to say more.

Thankfully he doesn’t. Neither of us has ever been big talkers. That’s probably part of the reason I’ve always liked him.

I hope he doesn’t change that now.

I catch a whiff of meat on the grill. My stomach growls. “Well, hell. I guess we’d better do this.”

The fragrant barbecue mixed with the woodsy musk of the surrounding wilderness is too much to resist.

I missed both during my years of deployment and base-hopping. Though I’d rather chew off my own arm than go to a party, it’s hard to resist the pull of my roots.

Slate rolls his eyes. “That’s the spirit.”

“But I won’t promise to have fun.”

“I’d never ask you to do something as crazy as having fun.” He gives me a stern look. “But don’t ruin Winter’s.”

I glare at him. “I’d never do that.”

“Yeah, sure.” He cuffs my shoulder in sympathy.

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