Page 1 of Love Songs (Harmony Lake #3)

FINGERS SNAPPED IN front of my face, and reality blasted into my eardrums like a freight train.

I glared at Ryan, the owner of the snapping fingers. He’d been one of my best friends since sixth grade, when he’d drawn a green alien on my cast after I’d broken my arm skateboarding.

“What’s up with you?” Ryan raised his voice over the din.

Me and my three best friends—Ryan, Sam, and Haider—along with a new addition to our unit, Sam’s boyfriend Ben, were having dinner, drinks, and a massive Death Star shaped cake at the Lakeside Inn for part two of my birthday celebrations.

It was tradition. We celebrated each other’s birthdays by meeting at the covered bridge in Stonebridge—oddly enough, not made of stone—and taking a late morning walk along Parker Trail, followed by a party later that included family, friends, and coworkers.

Ryan and I sat at our table shooting the shit while Haider had gone to the restroom and Sam and Ben were on the dance floor.

The lovebirds may as well have been the only ones out there, gazing into each other’s eyes as they swayed to the slow beat of Taylor Swift’s “Lover”.

For all the crap I gave Haider about being a massive Swiftie, I actually liked that song. I would never tell him that, though.

“Nothing,” I lied, finally answering Ryan’s question, but unable to stop from sliding my gaze over to where Sam and Ben were moving as one.

“Oh, I see how it is.” Ryan sounded pleased with himself, as though he’d discovered some new secret to woodworking.

“See how what is?”

Ryan tipped his chin toward the dance floor. “Did you want to marry Sam?”

I had just taken a slug of my Gansett, the unofficial beer of New England baseball, and spit it out at Ryan’s words. Unfortunately, my beer spray didn’t reach him.

“Of course not,” I spluttered, wiping the beer dribbling down my chin with a napkin. “That was a joke. Besides, I’m not the marrying kind.”

Ryan bunched his eyebrows but didn’t comment, thankfully.

Back when we were all in our early twenties, Sam and I had made a pact that if we were both still single when we turned thirty, we’d marry each other.

I can’t even remember why we’d made that pact in the first place, though I remember wanting Sam to be happy, no matter what it took.

I’d forgotten all about it until Haider, the first of us to turn thirty this year, brought it up during his birthday walk back in February.

We’d laughed it off, but deep down I was .

. . I don’t know. I felt weird about it.

I’d never tell the guys that, and it wasn’t because I wanted to marry Sam.

No, it wasn’t that at all. It was . . . that I was afraid I’d lose my best friend.

I glanced at the dance floor again. Sam was laughing while Ben looked up at him with stars in his eyes.

I want that.

Shit. No, I don’t.

Okay. I don’t know where that thought came from, but I most definitely did not want that.

Even though I’d recently told Sam everyone wanted what he and Ben had, I loved being single.

I loved the freedom of coming and going as I pleased.

And I especially loved not having to answer to anyone for my career choice or my sometimes-extreme adventures and the many injuries I’d sustained as a result.

If it got the adrenaline pumping, I was all in, and I didn’t need anyone giving me crap for it.

But my bestest bestie, Sam Caldwell—whose great-great grandfather founded our little town of Caldwell Crossing—was the first one of us four to find his person.

Their relationship was the real deal. They’d been together for a few months now and though I’d thought Ben joining us would change the dynamic of our group, he’d fit in seamlessly.

And as long as Sam was happy, then I was, too.

But what if the other guys found their someone, and that someone didn’t blend in as well?

I didn’t want to lose any of these guys who were like true brothers to me.

Haider made his way back to our table like a beacon in the night wearing a silky, bright orange shirt.

Three multi-colored neon balloons tied to his wrist bobbed along behind him.

His last name was Gray, but he was color personified.

And he was sleeping with the enemy and liking it.

Phillip Brauning was the vice president of a massive European chocolate conglomerate that was threatening to take over Haider’s family chocolate shop.

I’d never seen Haider so torn up about someone before, which could only mean he had serious feelings for the man.

But did they have to be for a man who was threatening his livelihood?

I glanced back at Ryan, who was still watching me speculatively.

He was probably the next to fall because he had such a huge, soft heart.

Not to mention the cute writer we met last week, Adam Nelson, who was renting Ryan’s cabin for six weeks.

The two of them had been sending heated looks at each other when they didn’t think anyone was paying attention.

Then where would that leave me? Odd man out. That’s where.

“Stop it,” I growled at Ryan.

He shrugged as Haider dramatically plopped down beside me, his bright blue gaze bouncing between us.

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” I groused at the same time as Ryan said, “Jedi is jealous of the lovebirds.”

Being that my birthday was May fourth, and we were all Star Wars fans, the guys had dubbed me Jedi when we were kids.

Haider snorted and snuggled into my side.

“Don’t worry, my little Jedi,” he said, looking up at me with a flirty grin and fluttering eyelashes. The balloons tied to his wrist bumped against my head, making my hair static-y. “I’ll box up some fresh truffles for you to eat your sorrows away with.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Haider knew the way to my heart.

“I don’t have any sorrows,” I said, ruffling his dark, curly locks. “But I would never turn down your truffles.”

Haider and his grandmother Mamie owned and operated Harmony Chocolates, and his gourmet truffles were my most favorite treat on the planet.

It was good to see Haider laughing and joking, even though he still looked tired.

He’d lost it earlier today on my birthday walk.

He’d planned a whole Star Wars theme to celebrate, and while we were battling lightsabers—me as Luke Skywalker and him as Darth Vader—he went full on rage monkey, jabbing at me.

Sam and Ryan had to step in and wrestle the saber from him.

But he was in much better spirits tonight, which was good. Otherwise, I’d have to have a talk with Phillip.

Sam and Ben returned, their faces flushed from dancing and smiles big. They reached for their beers at the same time and chugged a few gulps before sitting down.

Sam wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt as his gaze drifted over the three of us.

“What did we miss?”

Haider giggled, Ryan grinned, and I sighed. One of those big, loud, put-upon kinds of sighs.

“Conor’s jealous,” Haider teased.

“Again, with this . . .” I dragged a hand down my face. “I am not jealous.”

Maybe a little envious of Sam and Ben’s relationship, though.

Sam, either taking pity on me or being intuitive enough to clue in, which was most likely the case because he was one smart dude, changed the subject.

“So, are you all ready for the fair next weekend?” he asked.

Except for that subject.

“Ugh,” I wasn’t ready for any of it.

“I have all my roses carved,” Ryan offered. The light catching in his brown eyes made them glitter like he had a secret. “Just a few more bowls to make.”

He was a woodworker, but I’d call him an artist. I didn’t know how he did it, but he could take the gnarliest piece of wood and whittle it down to a beautiful work of art.

The guys carried on sharing their plans. Each had a booth for the Founders Day Fair—Ryan with his woodworking, Sam with his family’s maple syrup, Haider’s chocolates, and even Ben was taking part in the library book sale.

I didn’t have a small business like all my friends did, but I’d be working a booth for the Caldwell Crossing Fire Department, where I’d worked since graduating high school and then fire school.

Along with educating people on fire safety and doing demonstrations, I’d be overseeing fire safety checks for the live performances throughout the afternoon.

Six bands were lined up to play, one of which had become the bane of my existence.

The fair would end with a bachelor auction for a local charity, which Mamie had volunteered me for.

Can’t say I was much looking forward to that.

“Are you excited to meet Dallas Blade in person, Con?” Ryan leaned forward, drawing me back into the conversation. His purple-and-gray plaid shirt strained over his muscular biceps and shoulders.

“Not even a little,” I said with a huff.

“But he’s so hot,” Haider swooned and fanned himself.

“So hot,” Ben agreed, earning a side eye from Sam. Ben planted a kiss on his cheek and to Sam, added, “Not as hot as you, though.”

Sam smiled at him with googly eyes. He was so gone.

“And you’ve had a crush on him since we were kids,” Ryan added with a wave of his beer mug in my direction.

Sam frowned at me. “How did I not know that?”

“Drunk on syrup, maybe,” I quipped, and Haider barked out a laugh that had half a dozen heads turning toward our table.

“You all suck,” Sam said, but he was grinning, and his blue eyes were shining with mirth. “I’ve been listening to his music. It’s good.”

“Told you,” Ryan said with a note of pride.