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

Stupid hand fetish. “Right. Umm… wel no teling when those two wil drag themselves out of their hotel room. Why don’t you let me pick you up? You don’t want to risk missing the pie eating contest!”

Tony’s eyes twinkled at her. Geez why was everyone so focused on pie lately? “Okay, when should I be ready?”

Once they’d made arrangements for the next weekend Tony puled up chair, and found a pen and a pile of napkins so they could play tic-tac-toe while her loaf thing was baking. She beat him 28 games to 3. But to be fair, he was a bit distracted. She had a way of holding that pen…

“Don’t fil up Libster! The pie eating contest is after lunch! I’m gonna give you a run for your money.” John barked out his laughter. Libby wondered briefly if it was wrong to hope that he drop his chilidog down his shirt. Of course Mel was sitting in his lap, and she didn’t realy want to listen to Mel complain about her ruined tank top the rest of the afternoon so Libby guessed the chilidog solution was probably out.

Libby had dressed carefuly that morning. A short pair of green shorts and a bright blue tee shirt that fit closely and had a vee neck designed to show off a smal amount of cleavage. She knew the day would probably be too hot to leave her hair down, but she did anyway. Her dark curls tumbling down past her shoulders were a nice contrast against the blue of her shirt. So she snapped a pony tail twister around her wrist (in case she came to her senses later) and left her hair loose. Libby tried not to think too hard about why she was putting so much effort into her appearance. When not thinking about it failed-- she settled on the idea that she had been noticing Tony for 15 years, and it wasn’t wrong to want him to notice her back.

Noticing didn’t do any body any harm after al.

Tony did indeed notice her when she answered the door. In fact he was bothered for a good while as to whether or not her shorts actualy qualified as clothing. The park was a little more than an hour from Lindstown, and that was a long time for him to spend not staring at her tanned toned legs. Legs that he would love to have… NO.

This was only their second date, and he was going slowly.

‘Going slow’ became a mantra that Tony repeated over and over to himself for the rest of the day.

When they arrived at the party Tony took Libby around to introduce her to any family she hadn’t met, and the ones that she hadn’t seen in many years. There were a lot of “oh I remember you’s, “This couldn’t be little Libby McKay’s”, and to Libby’s great mortification there were even a few mentions of pie. That was mostly the aunts and women cousins. The men were more prone to offering Tony winks, nudges, and suggestive handshakes. His cousin, Nick, went so far as to slug Tony’s arm and refer to him as a sly dog. Tony preened like a peacock. Seeing Libby here with his family puled at his heart. A feeling so tender it left him speechless. His thoughts seem to naturaly drift a few years into the future and to bringing Libby to one of these things as his wife, and maybe as a mother. What would their babies look like? Dark curly hair he decided.

Whatever else, he wanted a baby girl with dark curly hair.

“Libby McKay!” Frankie jogged up to them.

“How the hel are you? Hey, Tony. You aren’t gonna deck me if I shake your hand are you?” Tony glared at his cousin, but he shook his hand any way.

“Come on Lib. I think I see Mom and Dad.” Tony towed Libby away, and behind them she could hear Frankie hooting loudly.

“What was that al about?”

“I hit him once a few years ago, and he likes to bring it up.” Tony slung an arm around her shoulders a little possessively.

“Oh.” Libby had a sneaking suspicion that she knew exactly when Tony had punched Frankie.

Pie eating wasn’t the only game on the docket for the day. The Marchetti’s were very competitive. A large official looking white board was standing in a corner of the pavilion; it served as a schedule of activities as wel as the signup sheet. Libby had loved the games as a kid. It was just her and her mom, and now Stuart. That wasn’t nearly enough people for egg tosses, relay races, and scavenger hunts. Libby remembered Tony as being less than enthusiastic about the games, wel except for the softbal game that brought the party to a close each year. But when Libby reached for the marker at the signup sheet he gamely added his name next to hers for the three-legged race, water baloon toss, and of course for tug of war.

The three-legged race was the big Marchetti opener. A chalk dust sprayer had been used to mark off a 50 yard race.

“I’m planning on winning McKay. Don’t let me down.” Tony was grinning her favorite grin as he tied the scarves around their ankles and thighs. If she didn’t know better she would think that he lingered down there a little longer than was necessary.

longer than was necessary.

“Oh we are so going to own this.” Libby pretended to polish her fingernails on her sleeves.

The thing about three legged races is they don’t realy rely on speed as much as teamwork and balance.

Libby and Tony got off to a pretty good start. His arm held her tightly around her waist, and she put her hand on his shoulder. This would have been perfect to keep them balanced if Libby could have disregarded the tiny jolts of electricity bouncing around in her stomach brought on by his closeness. They kept pace until about halfway down the track.