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“I thought you were drivin’ your truck?”

“Nah. Wanted to bring it back old-school style, like how I’d pick you up before I got my license.” I slap the seat behind me and notice she’s wearing a short sundress with an oversized hat. Swallowing hard, I push away the thoughts of peeling that thin material off her body and devouring her.

Harper shrugs, then locks the door.

With one swift movement, Harper bundles the dress material in her hand, then swings her leg over. She scoots forward, snaking her arms around my waist, and I love how close she is to me. I tilt my chin toward her so she can hear over the engine. “Hang on, sweetheart.”

Seconds later, I do a donut in the yard before heading to the main road.

“You’re gonna pay for that, Ethan Bishop,” she scolds in my ear, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the sound of it. I slow down, not wanting this moment to end. As we approach the B&B, I notice how many vehicles are already parked on the side of the road.

“Now you know why I drove this,” I tell Harper. Turning off the engine, I wait for Harper to get off before I do.

“Smart.”

“Learned my lesson last year when my stupid-ass cousins decided to block me in for two days with ranch hand trucks.”

She chuckles. “Oh yeah. Almost forgot about that. Your grandma was pissed.”

“Yep. Threatened to ground them all. And I wouldn’t put it past her.”

As we walk around the big barn, the music gets louder. Tables are set out with a massive spread of burger patties, hot dogs, smoked sausage links, and desserts. At one end is a big bowl of my favorite pineapple punch.

“Is that what I think it is?” Harper beams when she spots it.

“It’s not the Fourth of July without it!” Before we make our way over to get a cup, my name is called. I turn to see Elle waving me over and know I can’t leave her hanging, so I grab Harper’s hand and lead her over.

As soon as I’m close, Elle holds out her arms. I lean down and try my best to hug her, but it’s a bit difficult since she’s seven months pregnant now.

“How’s my niece today?” I ask with a grin.

“Hot and hungry!” Elle playfully wipes her hand over her glistening forehead. “Harper! Lookin’ real cute in that dress. I’d bet anythin’ you get asked on a date by one of the ranch hands today.”

Harper blushes with a shrug. I’m gonna scold my sister later for that little comment since I know it was only said to irk me.

“What does your hat say?” Elle asks. She reads it aloud, “Single & Searchin’?”

I immediately look for myself because I hadn’t noticed it said anything.

Harper snorts. “No, it doesn’t. It says ‘Hello Sunshine.’”

Elle looks at me with a raised brow. “Your reaction, though, told me everything I need to know. The classic I wish Harper was my girlfriend panicked look. When are you two finally gonna admit it?” She crosses her arms over her bump, and I scowl at her lack of filter.

“Admit what? That we’re best friends?” I maintain my denial. For years, Elle has consistently teased about how Harper and I act when we’re together. I’m sure my sister’s hoping one day we’ll confess our undying love, and she’ll gloat about how she was always right. Sometimes it’s easier to just bury my feelings than to actually admit I’m in love with my best friend, especially since she doesn’t feel the same, and it’d just make things awkward.

“Mm-hmm,” Elle says, pointing back and forth between us. “You two ain’t foolin’ me. Just wastin’ time when you could be makin’ me an aunt. You’re my only chance to become one, ya know?”

I scoff. “No pressure.”

Wishing we weren’t having this conversation right now, I glance over and notice the water balloons, and my eyes widen in panic.

“What?” Elle and Harper ask at the same time.

“Dad told me to tell Uncle Jackson absolutely no water balloons this year.”

Elle grunts. “Dad can’t control him. No one can. But damn, he’s gonna be pissed when he sees these special ones Uncle Jackson got. I heard Kane say they ordered them months ago.”

“Are they supersized?” Harper asks just as Jackson holds up a water balloon five times bigger than the standard size. His gaze zeroes in on us—his targets. Seconds later, he’s running with it. Elle puts her fingers between her lips and releases the loudest whistle I’ve ever heard.

Conversations stop, and everyone focuses on her.

Elle clears her throat and points her finger at our uncle, who looks like he just got scolded. “I am pregnant. And I’ll kill you. So save it for someone else.”

“Don’t do it, Dad,” my cousin Kaitlyn adds. Soon everyone in the family is running off and begging Jackson not to throw it at them.

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