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

This was how she liked Tony: ful of excitement and plans, and sure of himself. This was her Tony. “I haven’t given up on a real novel though. I have a hundred ideas. I am leaning towards a detective series. Thrilers. Real best seler list stuff, but I think getting my feet wet with some short stories is smart.” Tony guided his car into a spot at the hotel. “I’m boring you aren’t I?” He said it with humor but there was sincerity too. He hadn’t meant to ramble on and he didn’t have many private moments with Libby and now their 15 minute car ride was over and she hadn’t gotten a word in edgewise.

“You never bore me.” Libby giggled softly at the very idea of being bored and being with Tony at the same time. “Wil I get to read it?”

And there it was, that only-for-Libby smile. Tony covered her hand with his. “You wil be the very first. I promise.”

It was a perfect night. Everywhere she looked Libby was charmed by the silver and gold Christmas themed decorations. Of course, she was seated with Marchetti family, but it didn’t escape her that she ended up in the chair next to Tony rather than the one next to her date, Mel. They were served a beautiful fancy meal with more forks than she had any idea what to do with, but she could hardly feel uncomfortable sharing a meal with the Marchetti’s. No matter what the trappings.

When the band started to play great aunt somebody-or-another came and stole the family away for photos. Even then— when she was left alone at the table, smiling dumbly at her goblet of ice water, she stil didn’t have any time to feel awkward. Because the minute Tony’s arm left the back of her chair she had plenty of attention.

She danced once with one of the groom’s friends but he stepped on her toes, and his hand was a little too low on her back. So she was happy to oblige when Mel’s cousin Nick cut in. Nick was probably two years younger than her, but he kept his hands to himself and he was a good dancer.

Besides he confided in her that he had been stuck at a kid’stable. And if there was anything Libby could sympathize with it was being labeled as a kid. After laughing with Nick through the electric slide Libby found herself with Frankie.

Frankie Marchetti was one of many, many Marchetti cousins, but Libby had met him once or twice before when she tagged along to family functions. She thought he was maybe one year older than Tony, and he was very good looking. Tal like Tony was, but with a darker complexion and slightly too beefy muscles Frankie was from one of the more Italian branches of the family tree. But he was a good dancer even if he did hold her a little too close.

“So. Little Libby… al grown up.” His head started to bend towards her, and panic seized control of Libby’s brain making her step backwards. Frankie’s words were so close to what Tony had said and yet they made her stomach lurched in a very different way.

“Sorry. It’s so warm in here I think I wil get a drink.” Libby walked away quickly. At the bar everyone in front of her was leaving with a glass of champagne and Libby had just about made up her mind to order one for herself when Tony’s hand closed around her elbow.

“Cherry Coke… extra cherries, and champagne for myself.” Tony spoke smoothly to the bartender, but his eyes narrowed when he steered her back to their table. “Do you drink now?” He accused her.

“How do you know I wasn’t going to order the Cherry Coke?” Libby bristled at her abrupt return to kidsister status.

“You wear your every thought on your face. If you were a little older I would love to play poker with you.” Libby jerked her elbow out of his grasp. “I am old enough thank you very much.” Although at this point it was anybody’s guess as to what she was oldenough for. “And you are hardly a stelar example. What would you have done if they had carded you for that glass of champagne?” Tony arched a brow in her direction. “I would have shown him my ID.” He answered wryly.

“Don’t be ridiculous you are only 20.”

“I have an ID that says otherwise” Tony murmured as they settled themselves back at their stil empty table.

“Wel wel. Pot meet kettle.” Libby muttered more to herself than to Tony.

“Come on Lib. There is a difference. You are 16!

I wil be 21 this summer.”

“I’l be 17 in two weeks.” Now Libby was realy talking to herself as she felt the last of her pseudo-date buzz slip away.

“And is 17 old enough to make out with my somewhat skeazy cousin Frank?” Tony was whispering now but every word was laced with anger and disapproval.

So that was it. Tony felt he had to rescue little Libby McKay from his big bad wolf of a cousin. “He has a girlfriend. And how would Sam Tucker feel about you draping yourself around Frank?”

Again with Sam Tucker. For Pete’s sake they had been on three lousy dates, and shared one lousy kiss. Big emphasis on the LOUSY. “I did not make out with Frankie. We danced to two songs. Then I got warm so I decided to get a drink and sit down.” She didn’t add that sitting down had actualy been Tony’s idea. No point in reminding him of that. “And Sam Tucker wouldn’t have any reason to give a damn one way or another even if I left with Frankie.”

“Which you are NOT going to do!” Tony was so shocked by her words he knocked over the glass of champagne. Not that he realy wanted it—he had been more trying to make a point by ordering it.

“Which I am not going to do.” Libby agreed easily.

“Just