Never Kiss Your Brother's Best Friend: A Sweet Small Town RomCom (Love In Cedar Creek Book 1)

1. EMMA

I’ve always loved weddings, but this one is… different.

It’s my brother’s wedding, and I’m a bridesmaid. I should be over the moon. But as I stand in front of the mirror in the dressing room adjusting this hideous puke-green bridesmaid dress, I wonder how I got here.

I’m about to walk down the aisle with my brother’s very attractive best friend, who I’ve secretly had a crush on since we were kids. Meanwhile, my boyfriend of six months glares at me from across the room.

This is going to be a disaster.

Dean, my boyfriend, says that weddings are a waste of money and unnecessary. But it seems like he just wants to make this experience as unpleasant as possible. He started complaining about my hometown the second we crossed the line into it, and he hasn”t stopped since.

Even though I left Cedar Creek to go to college over a decade ago, I adore this place. It”s my home, my roots. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen my family. So, when my brother called to tell me he was having a summer wedding, I made plans to spend a few weeks here.

Since I”m a teacher, I”ve got some time off this summer, and I was super excited to spend some of that time catching up with my family and old friends.

I never expected to walk down the aisle with one of those friends, especially Sterling. At least he manages a pleasant smile when he sees me.

Sterling.

He”s been my brother”s best friend ever since they were kids. He and I have known each other just as long, and we”ve had our share of adventures back in high school too.

Ask anybody we went to Cedar High with: Sterling is known as kind of a grump.

But that isn”t how I look at him. I”ve always been able to see through his crusty exterior down to the soft little teddy bear underneath.

”This is the most backwoods, country bumpkin wedding I”ve ever seen,” Dean grumbles as he enters the dressing room, still trying to slick back his thick, dark hair with his palms.

”Good morning to you too,” I say, rolling my eyes. ”It might not be fashion week in New York City, but Linda”s dress is beautiful, and this sweetheart garden wedding is lovely. It”s simple, not overdone.”

I’m not going to mention the fact that my dress looks like it’s made out of moss.

”I understand you love small town life, but really, pine boughs and sunflowers? Please tell me that the centerpieces aren”t mason jars filled with wildflowers.”

Okay, I won’t, but they clearly are.

”Linda wanted a country-chic wedding.”

Dean”s disgusted expression says plenty.

I”ve met Dean”s family—they are proper and refined and as polished as fine silver. We had dinner at his mother”s penthouse last month, and I”m still not sure what we ate.

I”ve met a lot of his colleagues, too. And we went to a wedding recently, during which Dean introduced me to a bunch of the bigshots in his firm.

Everyone I met at that party was sophisticated and clearly very successful. Not my cup of tea, either. But I never complain to him about the glitzy events he drags me to. I rub my temples, wishing he”d extend me the same courtesy for once.

I”m about to argue more when a rap at the door cuts me off.

”Knock, knock,” my mom says, popping her head into the room. She brightens when she sees me. ”My sweet girl. Your dress is perfect.”

”Thanks, Mom,” I say with a forced smile, avoiding looking at Dean, who seems to be developing a permanent scowl.

She steps into the room and smooths down the frills of my dress. ”Now, I know it”s not exactly your style, but Linda insisted on the color. She wants the theme to blend with nature. It”s her day, after all.”

Dean mutters something under his breath, but I decide to ignore him. My mom, always the peacemaker, shoots him a sweet smile. ”Dean, you look dashing in that suit. Not everyone can pull off a bright yellow tie, but you”re managing quite well.”

He mumbles a thanks, and my mom winks at me as if to say, “He”ll survive.” She”s seen me through countless crushes, including the one on a pop star who I was convinced I”d marry.

I was ten, so don”t judge.

No matter how much she disapproves, she is kind and supportive in every situation I get myself into.

And the Dean situation is no exception.

As my mom fluffs my hair, I catch a glimpse of Sterling outside, pacing the hallway. I can”t help but chuckle. ”Nervous, Sterling?” I call out.

He stops in the doorway and looks up, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. ”Me? Never.”

”He”s been practicing his best man speech since last night,” Mom says, giggling. ”You know how he hates public speaking. Dean, you should help him. You”re a lawyer. You spend all day putting on a show for people. Give him some tips.”

Dean makes a face, as if my mother just suggested that he walk around nude for all to see. ”Best keep things simple, buddy. Short and sweet. That”s about it. And maybe crack a joke or two.”

Sterling gives him a short nod and an anxious-looking smile and says, ”Yeah, thanks. I think I”ve got it.”

I smirk, catching a glimpse of the dimple in Sterling”s right cheek—he’s definitely nervous. Did I mention that dimples are my Kryptonite?

I flash back to when I was eleven, sitting on the roof of our woodshed in the middle of the night with Sterling, eating marshmallows he raided from his pantry. I said something stupid, and he laughed, and those dimples peeked out.

I remember thinking how cute he was and feeling butterflies flitting around in my stomach.

Gosh, we really do have a long history... that was almost twenty years ago.

Now, as an adult, the idea of walking down the aisle with the grown-up version of my childhood crush has me tongue-tied and flustered.

So, I guess he still has the same effect on me. Though it’s almost seems stronger now. Not that I”d ever admit it to anyone. We”re not kids anymore, and I should have gotten over my infatuation years ago.

But those coffee-colored eyes are as captivating as ever. And they crinkle in the same adorable way when he smiles. His wavy brown hair is shorter than he used to wear it, and he has way more muscles than he has any business having. You”d think he spent his time bench pressing cows instead of as a veterinarian.

”Everybody ready?” The wedding planner mercifully interrupts my thoughts, clapping her hands together in front of her at us as if we”re badly behaved children she desperately wants to wrangle into straight lines.

One last look in the mirror confirms that this dress is still ugly as sin, but what can I do? At least it will provide excellent camouflage in the woods if there is a sudden need to hide.

With a resigned sigh, I head outside. My mother and Dean follow. I take Sterling”s arm.

”See you at the reception,” I tell Dean with a half-hearted smile. But he doesn’t seem to hear me. He”s already strolling down the hallway to the hotel”s outdoor garden area where the wedding will be held, grumbling to himself about having to sit through a long-winded ceremony.

Sterling catches my hand as we follow behind at a slower pace to give room for all the guests to take their seats. His touch is warm and sure, and when his thumb traces a gentle pattern across the back of my hand, I suddenly feel like an awkward teenager all over again.

As soon as we enter the crowd of guests, my dress hem catches under the heel of my shoe. Unable to stop the forward momentum, my ankle twists and I go flying. Right into Sterling, of course.

He throws one arm around me, mashing me against his chest and holding my head to protect it. With the other, he presses the base of my spine to keep me steady, cradling me in the nook of his elbow as we tumble to the ground, the air whooshing out of me.

Cheeks flaming with embarrassment, I lie half on Sterling, half on the ground for a moment, completely disoriented. Well, not disoriented enough to miss the very taut muscles I”m balancing on. Muscles begging for my attention.

Ok, I guess muscles don”t beg, so maybe it”s my brain doing the begging. Thankfully, my hands aren”t listening because we are at a wedding after all, and my boyfriend is seated a few rows away.

Sterling cocks his head and looks down at me, raising his eyebrows slightly before he does the last thing I expect him to—he laughs. Hard. It”s a rich sound that rolls out of his chest like summer thunder, and it makes me follow suit. Pretty soon, the two of us are doubled up, sprawled out in the middle of the aisle runner with my dress spilling around me like a massive, fluffy, swamp creature.

The whole crowd bursts out laughing too, and I just can”t bring myself to get upset over the fact that I probably just flashed my backside to everybody when I went down. Who cares, honestly?

Sterling is still chuckling, his eyes bright and his dimples in full effect, when he stands and helps me to my feet.

”That happy to see me, Emma?” he teases.

I give him a light punch in the arm. ”You wish. Blame the dress, not the girl, Dr. Cole.”

”Nice deflection,” he replies. He takes my hand, wraps it around his forearm, and starts us down the aisle again. “Just like old times, huh? You always seemed to have some balance issues. If you wanted to wrestle, though, you could have just asked. I would”ve say yes.”

His eyes twinkle when he says it. I pull myself together the best I can, sending a message to my heart to stop the party. Then smile up at him. ”Ha. I”d take you any day.”

Oops. That did not come out exactly how I had it planned. I blame the heart party, it”s still raging on.

”Hmm. Good to know. Maybe we should find out someday,” he counters with a playful smirk.

After that comment, I give up on trying to control my heart. Party on.

My brother Peter looks sharp in his suit standing at the altar. I”m struck for a moment with that “you”re getting so old” thing that always happens at weddings. Just yesterday we were a bunch of crazy kids who got into lots of trouble together, and now we’re all grown up. We”ve got jobs, mortgages—all that adult stuff.

The ceremony is touching, and as soon as the pastor pronounces the happy couple husband and wife, Peter sweeps Linda into a passionate kiss as applause and cheers erupt all around them.

Sterling flashes me an almost bashful smile, and I beam back at him with no shame. A kiss like that is romantic and wonderful, even if it is my brother’s.

I”ve always wanted to find someone who wants to kiss me like that but so far no luck.

Sterling politely extends his elbow, and I take his arm once again as we follow the couple toward the ballroom at the end of the path.

I glance ahead to see that Dean is leading the way back to the venue with purposeful strides. He”s told me more than once that he wants to ditch the reception, but I”m not skipping out on my brother”s wedding. That”s ridiculous.

Plus, I”m looking forward to the party later. Dean might prefer high-society events, but my favorite kind of reception has a spirited electric slide, good slow dance music, and my favorite people in the world.

When we finally make it inside and I take my seat beside Dean, it”s obvious that I”m sitting with the wrong person. Dean is withdrawn, pulling out his phone instead of making small talk with the rest of the table.

”Ready to go, Emma?” he asks without looking up from his device.

I blink at him. ”Are you kidding? It”s my brother”s big day. Besides, I”d hate to miss the chicken dance. Just wait until you see your girl”s moves.” I curl my arms and wave my elbows around like they”re bird wings, and he just scowls at me and goes back to his texting or whatever he”s doing.

This is going to be a long day.