Her Best Friend's Brother by T. Dell (read the beginning after the end novel .TXT) 📕

it is about experiencing a meal, but the philosophy lends itself wel to life.

Tony nodded. He looked impressed. “Okay—so they wil have memories of a picnic and music, even if they are having juice boxes?” He gestured towards the children.

“Yeah, and their parents wil have memories of watching them laugh and play. Benjamin Franklin said Winemakes daily living easier, less hurried, with fewertensions and more tolerance. And I think Thomas Jefferson caled a good wine a necessity of life.”

“I like that.” Tony produced a smal notebook from his camera bag and started scribbling.

“Umm… I’m not sure I got it exactly right.” Tony shot her a look. “I’m a pretty good fact checker.” She hoped she hadn’t insulted him.

When he finished writing, he stood up decisively and puled out his camera. “Time to earn a living!” Snapping photos as he walked amongst the picnickers Tony captured families playing together, and lover’s dancing. Libby sat, sipping her wine, and watching him work. Every so often he stopped to speak to someone, or have them sign what she supposed was a photo release. He moved easily—laughing with people as though they were old friends or fading away discretely as couples snuggled back into each other’s company. Eventualy he turned and strode back to where she was waiting for him. Raising the camera again he took several rapid fire shots of Libby stil lounged on the lawn.

She laughed and raised her now empty glass in a salute to him. Lowering the camera his eyes found hers, and his expression seemed to be ful of desire. But that just goes to show what an afternoon of consuming wine wil do to your perceptions.

The rest of the evening passed enjoyably. Touring the tents and booths one more time, Libby stopped to admire a display of jewelry; in particular-- a pretty blue crystal strung on a long chain. Immediately Tony handed over a few bils, and lifted the necklace over her head.

“I don’t think this is a tax deduction.” Libby joked to cover her discomfort.

“Nah the paper isn’t paying for this. Consider it a thank you gift for schooling me in al things vino.” It was hands-down the best nondate Libby had ever had, she reflected later that night as she lay in bed remembering and committing every moment of it to memory.

Chapter Fifteen

“I hate Med School.”

“Wel I guess it’s a good thing you aren’t in med school.” Libby propped her phone between her ear and shoulder so she could listen to Mel complain and mix at the same time. Stuart wanted Biscotti to sel at his concession stand, so she was hijacking her mother’s commercial kitchen in the evenings after the bakery had closed. It was probably nepotism, but Libby knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Oh. You know what I mean. John is hardly ever home anymore, and I’m pretty busy too. We never have anytime to—you know. It’s been almost a week.”

“Jesus Mel! I am so sorry you haven’t gotten laid in a week.”

“Oh wel. It isn’t like it’s your fault.” Mel either missed, or disregarded Libby’s sarcasm. “I’m realy looking forward to this weekend though. John promised not to bring any text books with him.”

to bring any text books with him.”

“Are you two going away?”

“Yeah, didn’t I tel you? It’s the family reunion.

You should come! We never get to see each other even though we are in the same country again. You can defend your title in the pie eating contest.” Libby used to go to the Marchetti family reunion every year. When Mel hit puberty she started bringing boyfriends instead.

“I was 14 the last time I went to one of those things. I am sure that over the last 8 years somebody else has won the pie eating contest.”

“Sure there is always a winner. But no one has ever cleaned 7 pie plates since you.”

Libby remembered how proud she had been that year. At fourteen she hadn’t realized yet that cleaning 7 pie plates was less than ladylike. “Okay, yeah if you think it’s okay with everyone I would love to come. But no promises on the pie eating contest.”

Libby was forming the biscotti when Tony came through the swinging door that led from the front counter to the kitchen. As though the last two years had never happened Libby found herself back in the last moment they had been alone together in this bakery. As clear as if he were stil whispering in her ear she heard hard and fastbetween your mother’s ovens? It was realy a good thing she wasn’t stil in love with Tony, or this would be awkward Libby thought as she concentrated on the dough in front of her. When had she flattened it?

“Hey Lib. Your mom let me in on her way out.” Tony leaned back against the wal, and watched her shape a loaf of dough. For such smal slim hands they sure seemed strong. Kneading and patting her fingers seemed to move with a sense of purpose. What wouldn’t he give to be that lump of dough? Why did he always seem to be fixating on Libby’s hands? If he had enough blood left in his brain for thinking he would probably be ashamed of himself.

“Are you listening to me?”

Damn. “Sorry Lib my mind wandered. What did you say?”

“Never mind what did need?”

Need? Tony actualy took a step towards her, and her hands, before he was able to shake loose the control his hormones had on his motor functions. Slow, that was what she needed. Time to get over the Italian chef, and then Tony would amp up his game. For now he would be content with a few dates, and with showing her how great they could be together.

“I just wanted to stop by and invite you to a party this weekend. Actualy it’s the Marchetti family reunion.” Why was she looking at him that way?

“I know… I just told you I was going with