More Than His Best Friend (More Than Best Friends Book 1)

by Sally Henson

  My fingers slide between hers. “I like it when you sit close to me and tell me what's in that beautiful mind of yours.”

  She kisses me on the cheek. It’s not a warm mouth-to-mouth, but it’s not a quick peck you’d give your brother or sister either.

  I tease, “You must really hate riding the bus if you're willing to kiss me to get out of it.”

  She sighs and stays close to me.

  We don't speak for a while. I sing along with a couple songs on the radio, and she seems content to hold on to me. I love the warmth of her hand in mine. We turn off the main road.

  Regan leans away and asks, “Where are we going?”

  “I need to stop by my house before I take you home. Is that okay?”

  She sits up a little straighter, inserting space between us. “Yeah, sure.” She doesn’t sound thrilled about it.

  “You don't have to move.” I place my hand on her knee to keep her from shifting any further away.

  It makes her flinch, so I rest it back on the steering wheel.

  “What about your mom?” she asks.

  “I think she suspects I'm chasing after you since I've been spending every moment possible with you the past two weeks.”

  A smile spreads across her lips, but quickly falters. “Yeah, I think my mom does, too.” Her head drops back against the seat.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Last night, she went for a walk with me. She said she thinks there’s something different between us, and if there is, she said we better tell Dad before he finds out from someone else.” Her face pinches. “I'm not sure I can handle two more years here. You're lucky your parents are pretty laid back about things.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “Not everything. My dad has his moments, too.” We turn onto my drive. “Your dad will be so ticked off if he thinks I'm going behind his back. You know that, right?” I park, turn off the ignition, and open the door.

  Regan’s eyes jet back and forth between my parents’ cars. She’s probably freaking out.

  I wait with my hand extended for her to grab it, but she slides out on her own.

  Regan and I walk to my house side by side, keeping our hands to ourselves. Not that I want to keep my hands to myself. I’d rather have our hands together.

  Regan mumbles, “I don't want to tell him because it’ll change everything. What if we tell them and it causes a rift between your parents and mine.”

  We stop at the steps to the back door.

  “What if we tell my parents first? Explain it's all new to us and we aren't sure about anything other than neither of us wants to go out with anyone else. Ask how to talk to your dad.”

  She stays quiet, so I press my hand on her lower back, putting us in motion up the steps. “We’re still best friends, no matter what happens.” I stop at the door and grip the handle. “Are you ready?” I give her a smile that I hope is encouraging enough she agrees.

  My chest begins to burn from holding my breath, waiting for her response. Come on, Regan, say yes.

  Shaking her head, she answers with desperation in her voice. “No. No, I'm not ready.”

  I blow out my breath. “It’ll be fine.”

  A pained expression covers her face as she whispers in a panic, “No! Let's wait. Just a couple days. Please?”

  I let loose of the handle. “It won't be any easier in a couple days.”

  Her voice is hushed. “I know, but … let's just be us for today and tomorrow. Everything's going to get weird with our parents since they're best friends, and we spend so much time together.”

  Why is she so stinking stubborn? The longer we wait, the more likely it’s not going to turn out well for us. I don’t want to hide this. We shouldn’t have to.

  I gently wrap my fingers around her upper arms, trying to convince her. “We aren't doing anything wrong. We don't need to hide anything from anyone.”

  Regan’s eyes widen even more. “Tobi knows, so we aren't hiding.”

  I take a step back, dropping my hands to my sides. Tobi brought it up the night before she left for Springfield, but I didn’t say anything. “Did you tell her?”

  “No.” She moves closer. “You know Tobi. She knew before I knew.”

  I hold my hands up. “I didn't tell her.” She’s not going to pin this on me. I haven’t even told Cam, even though he’s been warning me that my time’s almost up.

  “I know.” She glances down at our feet. “Let's just do what you need to do here, and we can talk about it on our way to my house.”

  I wait, debating. This isn’t what I want. I’m not some kid who ate too many cookies when I wasn’t supposed to and spoiled my supper.

  “Okay?” she asks.

  This isn’t over. I sigh, narrow my eyes, purse my lips so she knows I’m not happy, and open the door.

  64

  Regan

  Lane and I get our fishing gear and meet on the path to Fox Creek. We didn't really argue on the way from his house to mine about telling verses not telling our parents about us, but we didn't come to an agreement either.

  When we’re finally alone and out of sight, I move my pole to my other hand so I can twine my fingers with his. He smiles, and we both soften our postures.

  He tugs my hand playfully. “I feel like we're being sneaky, not telling our parents. Like, we're lying to them. And if your dad finds out before we tell him, he’s going to get the wrong idea about us and may not even let us see each other.”

  Hashing through this makes me groan in frustration. I’m not trying to be difficult. “Once he finds out, he's going to be different with you. He's not going to see you as my best friend anymore. He's going to see you as a boy who wants to date his daughter.”

  He doesn't say anything.

  “You know I'm right. He may not let us go out by ourselves anymore.”

  “He said I was like a son to him.”

  I raise my eyebrows, dumfounded he went there. “Siblings don't kiss.”

  He smiles down at me. “True. I'd rather not be their son.”

  “The point is—I don't know how Dad’s going to react. I just think it would be better to wait until at least Sunday to tell them. Then, if he goes off, you can just walk out the door and drive off to school.”

  “Regan.” He stops and turns toward me. His eyes dart, scouring every inch of my face before he releases my fingers to gently move the strands of hair stuck to my face. “I—” His smile is soft and shy.

  Shy is not Lane. Laid-back, yeah. Shy, not really. Not with me.

  His eyes focus on his work of combing through my hair. “You have no idea how happy it made me when you said you missed me.” His smile falters. “Happy and disappointed at the same time.”

  When he says things like that to me, I may not tell him, but it makes me happy too. I narrow my brow trying to figure out why he would be disappointed.

  He adds, “I wish we would've figured this out earlier.”

  I lean into him and wrap my free arm around his waist. “Me, too. Maybe we can store up some time together today and tomorrow without our parents getting uptight and looking over our shoulders.”

  “I see your point, about not telling them, for the short term. But your dad will be really ticked if he finds out first.” He turns back to the path with his hand grasping my waist and puts us back in motion. “What do you want to do tomorrow? We need to call Tobi sometime.”

  “I don't know. You should see her tomorrow or Sunday before you leave.”

  “Yeah,” he says more like a groan. “I’m running out of time so fast.”

  We pass through the tree line to our usual fishing spot, getting our rods and reels ready to cast. We're just using bobbers with worms for bait, not really caring if we catch anything or not. We cast our reels, and sit on the bank next to each other watching the plugs bob in the slow ripples of the creek.

  He puts down his rod and lies back crossing his ankles with his hands behind his head as he stares up at the light blue sky.
“Sunday wouldn't be a good day to see Tobi. There's too much to do. I guess that leaves tomorrow and I know my parents expect to see me, too.”

  “Since I asked for tomorrow off, I'm open all day. I'll squeeze into your schedule wherever I can.”

  His eyes sparkle bright and wide as he sits up with a burst of energy. “You did?”

  I feel the chemistry between us and I lean closer. “Of course. I wouldn't miss my best friend's last weekend at home before he runs off to conquer the world.”

  He leans into me, one hand on my shoulder, gently angling me toward him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” I sigh while butterflies flit in my stomach in anticipation of what's to come.

  “Yes!” His hand slips off my arm and I’m almost dumfounded.

  I thought he was going to kiss me.

  “Come over for breakfast in the morning. We'll spend the day together with my family and do something with Tobi in the evening.” He pulls the phone out of his pocket. “Let's call her.”

  I watch him swipe, tap her name on the screen, and lift it to his ear.

  “No, it's Lane.” He listens to her talk. “She's beside me, fishing.” He points toward the water. “Correction, she's hooking and reeling in a fish.”

  I give a slight jerk on my line and start to reel in. Lane continues his conversation, but I'm too busy to pay attention.

  Standing on the edge of the bank with the line nearly reeled in, I can see what I've hooked. “Catfish,” I mumble in disgust.

  It’s my least favorite fish to eat. He's a nice size, but I don't keep them unless Lane wants to take it home.

  I look back over my shoulder at Lane. “I need the pliers.”

  He strolled upstream a little way but makes his way back to the tackle box for me.

  “Okay. I will. Bye.” Lane hangs up. “Tobi wants to go horseback riding tomorrow at five o'clock, so dress for the occasion. And bring your white sandals.”

  “White sandals?”

  He shrugs. “That's what she said.”

  65

  Regan

  I leave Lane’s after breakfast. Though I really want to be with Lane all day, it's better if he spends time with his family without me—especially if they're already suspicious. But this short separation is making the thought of our reunion later today more exciting.

  I'm waiting on the patio when I hear the crackling of rock and the soft rumble of Lane’s truck engine. I hustle to the door as Lane parks, lean inside the house, and yell, “Lane's here. See y’all later.”

  Dad steps out of the bathroom into the hallway. “Be home—”

  “I know, be home before midnight.” I've heard the same line a hundred times.

  I shut the door and jog to the truck with my bag in tow. I don't want to waste any more time.

  Lane steps out of his truck. When he sees me, his face lights up with an easy smile. “Hey.”

  Even if I weren't looking forward to being with him, I couldn't help but smile back. No one can refuse his smile. “Hey.”

  He watches me get in and then slides into the driver's seat. “Ready?”

  “Yeah, let's go.”

  My hair's in a ponytail sticking out the opening of the Cowgirl Up ball cap Tobi gave me a while back. We ride with the windows down and the radio up. I want to scoot over and hug his arm, but it seems like everyone and their dog is out driving around today. It's not worth the price of gossip, yet.

  Lane throws glances at me from behind his sunglasses on our drive, some longer than others, but he doesn't really say much. It's kind of hard to have a conversation with wind noise and the radio blasting. I notice when he looks over at me though because I can't seem to keep my eyes off him.

  He still hasn't cut his hair. There's something about it that makes him look more carefree, a little rebellious. Cheap aviators, tan smooth skin, thin cotton pearl-snap shirt he's cut the sleeves off, not bulky but muscular arms, faded jeans, cowboy boots—he has that whole magnetism thing going on right now.

  The drive seems like it takes fifteen seconds not fifteen minutes.

  Tobi steps out of the horse barn and waves us over as we pull in her drive.

  I climb out of the truck and she meets me.

  “Good, you didn't forget your boots,” she snickers.

  “You look rugged and ready,” I tease, but she looks so pretty with her long blonde hair down under her cowboy hat. She's sporting a pair of cute Wranglers and a turquoise T-shirt.

  I can see she has the horses saddled under the shade tree on the other side of the barn.

  “I packed some water bottles in the saddlebags.” Tobi leads the way and I see the back end of a fourth horse. A big, beautiful buckskin is saddled, too. My eyes follow the lines of the buckskin to the being that has a hold of the reins.

  “Regan, Lane, this is Rex.” She stands between us and the horses. “Rex, these are my best friends, Lane and Regan.”

  I glance up at Lane, and he has a disciplined grin on his face.

  He steps over to shake his hand. “Hey, Rex. Glad to meet you.”

  I look over at Tobi and she's chewing on her bottom lip, sporting an innocent expression, ever so slightly shrugging her shoulders at me. Daggers are coming out of my eyes. Okay, maybe not daggers, icicles—yeah, icicles are shooting out of my eyes, targeting right between hers.

  I ask her telepathically, Rex? Who is Rex? Where did Rex come from? Why didn't you tell me about Rex?

  “Regan.” Lane bumps my shoulder.

  “Oh, uh, Rex.” I hold my hand up in a wave. “Hi. How do you know Tobi?”

  Lane tilts his head, warning me to be nice.

  Rex strokes the nose of his horse while he gazes at Tobi. “We met at the State Fair.”

  My hand goes to my hip. “Oh, really.” I eyeball her.

  “I told you about Rex, but you were too preoccupied to hear me.”

  I shoot her a dirty look.

  “Come on, we're burnin' daylight.” Tobi pulls me over to Raspberry, a red roan, and supposedly a calm horse. “I've already worked her before you got here. You shouldn't have any trouble once you show her who's boss.”

  “Good. I refuse to ride that Ape horse again. Ever.”

  She has a good laugh while telling Rex and Lane all about my experience with Stripe-ed Ass Ape. When they’re done laughing at me, she helps me get on the horse and checks the snugness of the straps.

  We take off on a trail I vaguely remember. There are so many acres of fields, pastures, and woodlands around Tobi's house, I don’t know how she knows every square inch.

  Tobi starts a competition with Rex, and we're not even a mile into the trail. They do a lot of loping and carrying on like expert horsemen. Knowing Tobi, it's probably a test to see if he measures up to her expectations. And of course, they disappear over a hill way ahead of us.

  Lane and I start down the wooded hill we saw Tobi and Rex disappear over. We hear her scream. Lane and I look at each other with rounded eyes as big as golf balls.

  I call out to her. “Tobi.” She doesn't answer.

  Lane calls for her. She still doesn’t answer.

  She screams Rex's name, and we both navigate down the hill as fast as we can. My heart’s racing. Crazy thoughts enter my mind that spurs me to push Raspberry much faster than I'm comfortable with. Halfway down I hear her again. This time it's more of a squeal of delight than a scream of urgency.

  Lane sees them before I do. He stops, holds his hand up to me. “It’s okay.”

  When I reach him, I see Tobi and Rex, off their horses, splashing and flirting with each other in the creek at the bottom of the hill.

  He chuckles quietly. “It looks like Tobi's having a good time.”

  I put my hand to my chest. “She scared me to death.”

  Tobi sees us come out of the trees toward her. “Glad you could make it,” she teases. “Hop down for a few minutes and let your horse drink.”

  As soon as we hit the open space on our way back to the bar
n, Tobi and Rex are racing, again.

  “Show-offs.”

  Lane lifts his eyebrows in a challenge. “You want to race?” He has a big grin on his face, knowing I’ll say no.

  I can trail ride fine, but I get nervous speeding up. A horse has a mind of its own. It's not like a car or motorcycle that obeys your every command. But instead of saying no this time, I gently squeeze my legs against the sides of the roan until she begins to pick up the pace.

  I look back at Lane with a smile. He catches up with me, eyes bright under the bill his ball cap.

  66

  Regan

  I flop back on Tobi’s bed with a groan. “Why do you want to paint my toes? They’re fine.”

  “They look nasty, the paint's peeling. You'll look much nicer when I'm finished with them.”

  I huff at her reply.

  She has the old color off, a clear coat on, and one coat of a light gray when she starts asking me about Rex. “So … what do you think of Rex?”

  “Is that his real name?” We burst out laughing.

  “Of course it is, you moron. Serious, what do you think?”

  I shrug. “He seems nice. He seems to know his way around a horse. He seems to get along with Lane. It seems you really like him.”

  “Seems?” She deadpans, questioning my quadruple play on words, and shaking her head. “Yeah, I'm trying not to get too excited about him. I'm sure some ugly trait will reveal itself soon.”

  “Maybe, or maybe he really is a good guy. It may be a little too late for you not to get excited, anyway.”

  Her eyes light up when she talks about him. He'd better be a good guy, for his sake.

  I look at my toes, shoulders slumped. “Why didn't you tell me about him?”

  She stops painting and thinks about what she’s going to say. “Well.” She takes a deep breath and bites on her lower lip. “I did mention him to you, but you’ve been off in la-la land lately. But, I think mostly, I just, I just didn't want to jinx it.” She shakes her head. “I know that sounds dumb. He made such an impression on me at the fair, which is usually a sign he’s bad news. I always fall for these nice guys that really aren't nice guys who end up being jerks.”