Page 15

A Margarita in a Can

Cassie already feels like my best friend, and I just met her an hour ago.

Maybe it’s because she’s marrying Tanner, so she already feels like family since these two boys have been like family to me for half my life.

Or maybe it’s because we’re part of this exclusive club—the only two women who’ve ever been engaged to the Banks brothers. It’s quite a feat, to be honest. They’re some of pro football’s most eligible bachelors, and we managed to snag them.

Except for me, the only thing I snagged is a friend.

A good friend, but still just a friend.

But when he tosses his arm around me and looks down at me in that way he has, sometimes it feels like it could be more than just a friendship.

And when my hand lands on that huge thigh of his…my God.

I want it to be more than just a friendship.

But this is Miller Banks. My Millby. The guy who would show up for me at the drop of a hat. The guy who did do just that and invited me to live with him as he facilitated a way for me to give my dreams a real chance at being my reality.

And so I will carefully pack away these new feelings I seem to be having. I will continue resisting the running back…no matter how hard that may be.

Speaking of hard…good God, that thigh muscle.

I remove my hand from his thigh and toward my margarita instead because, yeah, tequila is a great idea when I’m already having inappropriate thoughts.

Dinner is served, and Cassie laughs as I fill her in on all the stories of the twins as teenagers. She asks me a million questions about the direction of my career change, and by the end of the meal, I slip a business card over to her so she can pick up one of my books.

And that’s when Miller says, “She’s an amazing author. You’ll love her stuff.”

Tanner turns to his brother. “I didn’t even know she wrote, and you’ve read her books?”

“Every single one of them,” Miller admits proudly.

And then I melt into a puddle. How the hell am I supposed to resist this guy?

The longer I sit beside him, the more real it feels.

By the time we’re done, it’s like we’re two couples out on a double date.

We’re photographed as we leave the restaurant, and Tanner drives us back to Miller’s house.

We say our goodbyes to Tanner and Cassie, and Cassie and I exchange numbers.

She tells me she would love to meet up for coffee and show me around town since I’m new, and since I don’t have any friends here, well, the truth is, I’d absolutely love to.

“Is it too soon to text her?” I ask as Miller shuts the door behind them.

He laughs. “Yeah, it might be a little on the early side. ”

“I don’t care. It’s not like a dating situation. It’s a friend thing, and if she’s marrying Tanner, then she’s stuck with me being part of your lives.” I say the words as I pull out my phone to send her a text, but then a question plagues my mind.

Will she be stuck with me forever?

Or will Miller eventually find somebody who he really does want to marry?

Somebody who doesn’t love the fact that his best friend is a girl that he’s been engaged to, fake or not.

Somebody who doesn’t believe in platonic friendships between men and women.

Someone who’s jealous of the history we share.

Someone who gets closer to Cassie than me because she’s the one who gets to bond with her true sister-in-law.

I couldn’t take him ending up with someone with those sorts of jealousy issues, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would fall into that trap anyway.

Still, it’s a very real and scary potential future for us, one where I’m written out of the story because I’m just the best friend.

What if I want to be more than that?

I can’t say I’ve never considered it. But as we formed a close friendship, I forced the thoughts away. I’m the girl-next-door type. He could have any woman in any room. He’s handsome, he’s talented, he’s smart, he’s kind. He’s frickin’ hilarious.

And he’s a good friend. The best friend I’ve ever had.

He chuckles, and the sound startles me from my thoughts. I glance up at him as I realize I’ve been staring at my phone as all of this has been racing through my mind.

All that time, he’s been staring at me .

“Not sure what to say?” he asks. “Give it an hour at the very least.”

I laugh as I try to mask my true thoughts. “You’re probably right.” I slip my phone into my pocket, and I sigh as I follow him into the house. “Tonight was fun.”

“Cassie’s the best,” he says as he saunters over toward the fridge. “He really managed to meet his match in her.”

“How’s he with her kids?” I ask.

He lifts a shoulder. “Great, actually. He loves them like they’re his own.” He pulls a canned margarita out of the fridge for me and a beer for himself. “Want one?”

I glance at the clock. It’s already eight, and to be honest, that’s usually about when I go to bed.

I’m used to my teaching routine where I get up at four to write for a couple of hours before I shower and head to school.

I haven’t fallen out of that habit yet, and besides, I’m exhausted after today’s events.

I don’t really drink all that much, either, yet a drink with Miller sounds fun. “A margarita in a can?”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.”

I wrinkle my nose and eventually nod, and he cracks open the can like a gentleman before he pushes it across the counter toward me. He opens his beer and holds up his can in my direction.

I hold mine up, too, a little reticent about actually drinking a canned margarita, but I probably had enough at the restaurant that I’ll barely taste this one anyway.

“To more fun nights,” he says, and I tap my can to his.

We each take a sip, and I let the sour liquid swirl around on my tongue for a beat as I study the can. “This is good.”

His eyes flick to my lips, and my chest tightens for a quick beat as an errant butterfly seems to take flight.

Pull it together, Summers, I berate myself. He’s just looking at my mouth because I just tasted a canned margarita.

“I’ve never tried them. Cassie left them here when Tanner moved out, and she told me to give one to the next girl I brought home.”

I giggle. “And whoever that was refused to drink a canned margarita? ”

He shakes his head, and his eyes climb slowly up to mine. “No. You’re the next girl I brought home.”

Heat seems to sizzle through the air between us as our eyes stay connected a beat longer than they should, and I clear my throat as I tear my gaze away.

What the hell am I doing?

I chug my canned margarita.

That’ll surely help.

“So Cassie’s kids are five and seven?” I ask, trying to change the sudden charge of energy in the air. I lift myself up so I’m sitting on the counter, and he sits across from me on the island.

He nods. “Five going on fifteen, and the boy is turning eight soon.”

“I never imagined Tanner as a father. You, on the other hand…you’re such a golden retriever. I think you’d make a great dad.”

He wrinkles his nose—and that’s my signature move. “I’m not sure I really want kids,” he admits.

My brows crinkle together. “No?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I go back and forth. Do you?”

“Want kids?” I ask.

He nods.

I lift a shoulder. “I guess I’ve always pictured a future with them, but it’s not like I’m getting any younger.

I’m turning thirty next month, and I still feel like I did when I was eighteen.

And now I don’t have stability, and I roped you into this engagement thing, and… ” I trail off and shrug at the end.

It’s a roundabout nonanswer, but honestly, I’m not the person who dreamed about being a mom my whole life.

When I picture the future, I picture a kid or two…

but I also picture a husband who’s in love with me, not someone who’s marrying me to help me get back at my shitty ex.

I guess if it happens, it’ll be a blessing, but if it’s not meant to be for me, then that’s something I’ll have to make my peace with.

“Can I be honest about something, no judgment?” he asks.

I tilt my head. “You’re my ride or die, Miller Banks. You know I’d never judge anything you could say to me.”

“I know. But still…I feel like anytime this topic has come up with anyone else, there’s judgment.”

“Not from me. Ever,” I say, my tone adamant.

He nods, and he glances down into his beer.

He sighs. “When I found out the truth about Eddie Nash being our biological father, it changed something in me. I think I always wanted kids and thought I’d be a good dad because I had Charles to look up to, you know?

But when I learned it was Eddie’s blood running through my veins, a new era of self-doubt planted itself inside of me. ”

“Oh, Miller,” I say, my tone changing to one of sympathy now. “You were raised by a great man, and it’s the great nature versus nurture debate. Just because Eddie donated sperm to your mom doesn’t mean you’re going to turn out anything like him.”

He makes a face like he’s going to vomit at my choice of words, but I continue anyway. “Besides, the four Nash brothers turned out fine, don’t you think? Some of them have kids, and they’re great dads, aren’t they?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I guess. I’m just the last one in a long line of six, and somehow it feels like because of that, I’m doomed to fail. I’m doomed to be the one most like him because the others were able to escape.”

“Your feelings are absolutely valid. But I know you, and I know your heart. You’re a damn good man, Miller.”

He presses his lips together a little doubtfully, and as his ride or die, I suddenly realize it’s on me to make him see what an amazing person he really is .

“You’re sacrificing so much for me, and I’m just a friend.

Imagine what you’d do for your future wife and kids.

And besides, you don’t need to decide anything right now, anyway.

Playing engagement with me is just pushing those decisions further down the road.

” Something sparks in my mind that maybe that’s part of his motivation for agreeing to it.

He doesn’t have to face reality for a little longer if he’s tied up with me for however long we decide to do this.

He glances up at me, and there’s something there in his eyes, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.

You don’t have to decide now. I’m just a friend.

I’m just a friend.

Sometimes when he looks at me like that…I wonder if I’m missing something.

Sometimes when he looks at me like that…I think maybe someday I could be more than just a friend .

Maybe I’m totally delusional.

But ever since I moved into his house with him, I think I’m starting to want to be more than just a friend .