Page 2 of Big Booze Boss

My heart melts with her humility, though. She's such a sweet, loving, generous soul. She would give you her last dime simply because you asked for it. She wouldn't qualify whether or not you actually needed it. The asking for it would be enough for her.

But she's not the kind of person to ever ask for a dime when she desperately needs it. Much less when she doesn't. So when she called on the phone, balling her eyes out about the Red Barn Wedding Venue she had booked last September burning to the ground, she asked me for my help before I could offer it, and I knew it took a lot for her to do so.

She's not fiercely independent. She lacks trust in others. So even though I'm more like a sister than a best friend, and she knows she can rely on me, she would never have hired me. She wouldn't want to appear to take advantage of me like that, and her gratitude for coming to her rescue when her plans went to shit at the last minute moved her to tears. I sigh; I haven't perfected preventing them, but this kind of meltdown I'm used to handling.

"Shh! Stop it, now, boo, or I'm going to feel like a failure. You're not supposed to meltdown now."

She snorts, "I'm sorry," then blubbers something incomprehensible. The only words I make out sound like 'forgive me' and 'truth.'

I gasp and roll my eyes, horrified. "Jenny Williams! Don't you dare jinx me like that."

She snorts again, but this time from laughter. "Oh, my gosh! How could I forget?"

"Obviously, you're on the verge of becoming a bridezilla!"

She bursts out laughing.

"Now, go find a shot of Vodka, sterile your mouth, and calm your gorgeous ass down. I got you!"

"Oh, my lord! I will so do that!"

"Hurry! Before the Fates act on it!" My eyes flare with feigned panic.

She bursts out laughing again. "Bye, Summer. You are the best! Crossing my fingers for you."

"Girl, you better pray for me!"

She giggles guiltily, blows me a kiss, then the screen goes blank.

Whew! That was a close call!

Shoving my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, I heave the heavy backpack on, grab the two luggage handles, and continue up the drive and pray for myself. Not the same prayer Jenny will offer. She'll be praying I'll be spared from a physical injury due to the phrase, "I'm sorry," bringing me bad luck.

While I pray, "Dear Lord, please let me find a bottle of booze, so I can cleanse my mind of the memory of Blaze Malone's incredible kiss." Knowing coming face-to-face with him will be unavoidable. He's the best man.

* * *

It was a hot, humid summer day with the usual chance of an afternoon thunderstorm a year ago. Blaze, Brandon's younger brother by two years, was in town for three days with the Colorado Rockies to play the Tampa Rays, and Brandon got three free tickets for us.

Arriving early in the hopes we might be able to visit with Blaze during warmups, we had perfect seats. Three rows up behind the Rockies dugout. I went in first, then Jenny, then Brandon sat at the end of the aisle.

Brandon began texting someone as soon as he sat down. While Jenny and I stood, squinting, searching for Blaze. I spotted the now famous inked bad boy with the body sculpted for more than baseball immediately. His ball cap was pulled down to shield his eyes from the bright noon sun, causing his much-longer-than-he-used-to-wear-it dark brown hair to flare out from under the edges several inches upward. His undershirt draped his broad chest and tapered sharply into his form-fitting white with dark pinstripes baseball uniform pants. The tiny vertical stripes emphasized how straight his legs are, and the slight curve on his muscular thighs only highlighted his strength.

The very sight of him sent the usual warm wet pulsations between my legs.

Blaze has been my secret crush for … well, forever, and so far as Jenny and I go, my attraction to him is the only secret I hide from her. And I'll go to my grave with it. Not that she would care if we hooked up. She would probably be thrilled. But loyalties shift between even besties when the romantic interest in the mix are brothers. Besides, the attraction is one-sided.

As soon as he spotted us, he flashed his million-dollar smile, and my heart flip-flopped, remembering how mouth-watering he looked in cut-off blue jeans, slalom skiing behind the boat wearing that grin. That was the last summer we spent together as friends hanging out with our best friends. That August, Blaze left for college on a baseball scholarship, and my crush ended unrequited.

He jogged over to us, and I squirmed, watching his bouncing pecs and his commanding posture. Jenny turned toward Brandon and asked, "Is that Blaze?"

Brandon laughed, "Yeah, he's 6'3" now and weighs 250."

"Damn," I whispered, and Jenny shot a look out of the corner of her eye. "That's big for a catcher, isn't it?" I covered my blunder.

"Above average," Brandon answered.

Blaze opened the gate and, still grinning that winning smile, hugged up his brother, then stepped into Brandon's vacated slot and grabbed Jenny. She squealed with delight. He leaned around her and winked at me. "Hey, Breezy. How you been?"

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