Page 6 of Coming for Her Brother’s Best Friend (Coming For Christmas #4)

SIDNEY

By the time the ballroom cleared out after dinner, I was running mostly on nerves, caffeine, and the thin thread of relief that came from not watching everything go up in flames.

The whole day had been a blur of arrivals, fixing mix-ups, and making a list of last-minute details that couldn’t afford to go wrong.

Welcome drinks kicked off the series of weekend events with people trickling in from the airport, shaking off snow, hugging too hard, and talking too loud.

Bridesmaids squealed over the view from their suites.

Groomsmen tried to smuggle beers into the lounge like they were still in college.

Rand grinned every time his gaze landed on Harper, and I floated around the edges with my clipboard, keeping a handle on the chaos just enough to keep it from spilling into pandemonium.

The rehearsal was next. Getting twelve adults to walk in a straight line should’ve been simple, but it was more like herding cats.

Half of them were late, the other half were tipsy, and Harper nearly cried when her practice train got tangled around a chair.

But they got through it, and when Rand caught her hand halfway down the aisle and whispered something that made her laugh through her tears, I knew they’d be fine.

Dinner was loud and beautiful and nerve-wracking.

Toasts from Harper’s dad and Rand’s grandfather made everyone cry.

The prime rib came out on time, and though I didn’t take time to sit down and eat, I heard it was delicious.

There was no evidence of cold feet, heated conversations, or drunken behavior.

When the last guest left the room, I let out a huge sigh of relief.

And now the room was empty except for a few lingering staff members clearing plates and blowing out candles.

The long tables sat bare again, stripped of their sparkle, waiting for tomorrow.

My feet screamed for flats. My hair had given up hours ago.

But we’d survived the welcome drinks, the rehearsal, the dinner—and the bride and groom were still madly in love.

Nothing had caught fire. That counted as a win.

“I figured you’d be in a sleep-deprived coma by now,” Hayes said from the doorway.

He leaned a shoulder against the frame like he belonged there.

With his sleeves rolled up and his tie tucked into his pocket, he looked pretty relaxed for someone who’d just spent the night herding groomsmen.

A garment bag was slung over one shoulder like it weighed nothing.

He looked warm, solid, and impossibly kissable.

“I will be,” I said, trying to tamp down the urge to bury myself against his chest and take comfort in a hug that might (hopefully) lead to more. “Once I make sure this place won’t implode overnight.”

His eyes swept the room. “Looks like it’s still standing.”

“For now,” I muttered, scribbling a note on my clipboard about resetting the tables first thing in the morning.

He stepped inside and draped the garment bag holding his tux over the back of a chair. Then he started helping without asking by stacking chairs and gathering all the last-minute centerpieces we’d created onto one table. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I didn’t.

“Things went well tonight,” he said. “Seemed like everyone was having a good time.”

“That’s the trick. Make it look easy. Hide the chaos behind the calm.” I glanced up and caught him watching me with a quiet, steady focus that made it hard to breathe. “Dinner went okay. No one threw up or proposed. I consider that a success.”

He chuckled. “That’s a high bar you’ve set.”

“Hey, don’t mock my bar.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He waited with me until I made sure the staff had broken down the room and saved what we needed for the next day. When we stepped out of the lodge, the cold hit like a frozen punch to the center of my chest.

The night had gone still like it did in the wintertime around these mountains, so quiet it felt like the snow might be listening.

String lights draped from the eaves to the pines, cast warm circles of light on the snow-packed paths, and the air had shifted into something cold and sharp.

Each breath cut into my lungs just enough to make me feel alive again.

My body was vibrating from sixteen hours of running on caffeine and adrenaline, but my brain hadn’t gotten the memo that it could stop.

Next to me, Hayes put one foot in front of the other like the world was his. I envied him. He wasn’t being micromanaged by a checklist, and his voice wasn’t hoarse from barking timelines.

“How many disasters did you prevent today?” he asked after a minute. His hands curled up in his pockets, and his steps were steady and sure.

“Four,” I admitted. “Two late shuttles, one espresso machine rebellion, and Harper almost passed out during the rehearsal.”

He gave a low whistle. “And no one even noticed.”

“That’s the job,” I said, pulling my coat tighter around me. “Make it look seamless. Pretend nothing’s wrong until it isn’t.”

He shot me a sideways glance. “You’re running on fumes.”

“Fumes are underrated,” I muttered.

He didn’t argue. Which was worse, somehow.

We crunched down the walkway in silence for a while.

Off by the lake, something groaned deep under the ice like the mountain itself was stretching in its sleep.

The smell in the air had shifted to something crisper and sharper, with a faint heaviness that meant snow was coming.

I tipped my face up toward the sky. The clouds had thickened into one dark, endless sheet.

“There’s a storm moving in,” Hayes said, like he could read my mind.

“Of course there is.” I didn’t mean for my tone to come out sounding defeated, but it was difficult to stay upbeat after everything that had happened over the past couple of days. “Because why wouldn’t the universe schedule a blizzard right on top of a luxury Christmas Eve wedding?”

His mouth curved up. “You’ll handle it.”

“You say that like it’s a foregone conclusion.”

“It is,” he said.

While I appreciated his confidence in me, I wished I felt the same.

We reached the little plaza where the path forked off toward the cabins, and I stopped under the giant tree the resort had dressed up like a magazine cover.

Warm-white lights spiraled to the top. Ornaments reflected the light, and someone had set a bench next to it with a plaid blanket folded just so.

It should’ve looked cheesy, but at the moment it looked like a picture-perfect romantic winter fantasy.

“Tomorrow has to go right,” I said, barely above a whisper.

“It won’t,” he said. “But you’ll make it look perfect.”

I laughed because if I didn’t, something else might crack. “That’s supposed to be comforting?”

“It’s supposed to be true.”

I turned to tell him thank you, or good night, or nothing at all—and found him closer than I meant for him to be.

Close enough the light caught the scar at his temple and the rough stubble along his jaw, close enough I could see the blue ring around his dark irises.

His eyes didn’t look like the sky tonight.

They looked like the lake right before it froze over—deep, unreadable, waiting to swallow anyone who stepped wrong.

“Hayes…” My voice snagged on his name. “We can’t?—”

“We can,” he said. “We just shouldn’t.”

“Because of Stetson. Because of Alaska. Because if I mess this up, everyone will remember it forever.”

“Yes,” he said. “And because you deserve to get this to the finish line without a man becoming the story.”

“You’re very confident about what my head is doing.”

“I’m very familiar with the sound of mine when it starts lying,” he said. “I can hear it in other people’s.”

“Is yours lying right now?”

“Constantly.”

We were too close but still not close enough. I should’ve stepped back. I didn’t.

“This is a terrible idea,” I whispered.

“I know.”

“We have rules.”

“We do.”

“And we’re going to follow them.”

“Sure,” he said. Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t even careful. It was inevitable.

His mouth was warm and steady, his hands clamped on my waist like he knew I’d bolt if he gave me an inch to think.

The cold air nipped at my cheeks, but the heat generated between us made me want to shed my winter coat.

I slid my hands under his suit jacket and held onto him to stay upright.

Snow fell soft and slow, the first flakes spiraling between the lights.

He deepened the kiss just enough to steal my breath and then stopped, like he knew exactly how far he could push before I’d break. When he pulled back, my body swayed toward him like I needed more. I did. But I couldn’t.

“We can’t do this,” I said as I struggled to remind myself to breathe.

His mouth curled up at the corners. “We just did.”

“Not again.”

“Not until after.” His voice was steady and calm, like whatever this was, whatever was threatening the bubble of safety I’d drawn around this event, was going to happen whether I was prepared for it or not. It was just a matter of time.

We walked the rest of the way to the cabin without touching.

I tried to ignore him while I was acutely aware of every movement he made.

Inside, I set my clipboard on the table and reviewed tomorrow’s checklist just to have something to do with my hands.

He slid his jacket off and hung it over the back of a chair while pretending not to notice that my hands were shaking.

“We have rules,” I said again, hoping if we could agree not to acknowledge the heat between us, the sparks would burn out on their own.

“We do. I respect the hell out of rules, but some rules are impossible to stick to. Get through the wedding tomorrow, then you can decide if this is one of those rules worth breaking.” The look in his eyes told me which side of the rule he was standing on.

I wanted to walk over to him right then and there, but something held me back. “After the wedding, you’ll go to Alaska.”

“After, I’ll go to Alaska,” he echoed, his voice calm but final.

Outside, the wind kicked up and blew snow against the windows, the first warning the storm wasn’t bluffing. I shut the bedroom door, leaned my forehead against it, and told my heart to shut up.

Tomorrow had to be perfect. Once the wedding was over and I’d made sure Harper got the very best start to her happy ever after, I could decide what to do about Hayes.

Until then, I’d have to be content with replaying the memory of how it felt to feel his lips on mine and the solid feel of being pressed up against him.