Oktoberfest in a Bavarian-themed village is always a little crazy. This year it’s no different. We’ve been bar hopping all night, celebrating the end of the week’s festivities and while we live in a small town where everybody knows everybody’s business, we also live in a tourist destination.

Which means for a man like me, who takes home a different woman each night, this time of year is fucking paradise. The streets are full, the bars are hopping, and the booze is flowing. Steins of beer are in everyone’s hand as the town indulges in sauerkraut and hot pretzels.

I’d make a crack about my bratwurst, but I try to avoid being cheesy as fuck. I’ll leave that to Clive. He makes plenty of innuendos about his wife, Hazel who owns the candy shop. He’s got the corner on those jokes--everything is sugary sweet with those two.

Me? I don’t play the same game as my buddy. Getting all head over heels; love at first sight; the happily ever after bullshit--it’s not gonna happen to me.

“Another round?” Clive asks clapping his hand on my back. We’re in the pavilion in the heart of town, and there’s dancing, music, and plenty of booze.

“Sounds good.” I smile over at Hazel, his newly minted wife, and ask what she’s drinking.

“Seltzer. Come on Charlie, get with the program,” she says, teasing me as Clive heads to the crowded bar for our drinks.

“Sorry, I forgot.” I raise my hands in defense. “You feeling okay these days?”

“I’m doing better. Made myself some ginger candies to help with the nausea.”

She and Clive have been married for a few months and she’s already knocked up. I don’t know what kind of magic that woman possesses, but she’s got something powerful. After all, she whipped Clive, a burly ass mountain man, into shape and has him wrapped around her pretty little finger.

And I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t cute as hell. I may not want that insta-love story for myself, but I don’t begrudge it my oldest friend.

Hell, there have been plenty of rough patches over the years. Losing our best friend — Clive’s brother-in-law -- a few years back, really fucked us up.

I haven’t exactly recovered. And for a long time neither had Clive. Luke died and just like with everything, we dealt with it like the opposites we are. I dealt with it by sowing my wild oats and Clive shut himself off to all women. Until Hazel, of course. And now that Clive has his woman and a baby on the way, he’s found a way to move on. Process the shit that held him back. Which makes me wonder a little about myself. Back when Clive decided to commit to Hazel, he made it pretty clear he thought it was high time I changed my wild ways.

“It’s taken Clive forever,” I say, craning my neck, needing a drink, realizing I’ve gotten way too heavy up in my head. Even if it is the final night of Oktoberfest.

Thankfully, just then, a group of college women comes in wearing short ass men’s lederhosen and revealing tanks. Perfect.

I raise my eyebrows and Hazel follows my gaze.

“Seriously, Charlie?” She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. She’s got this mom-mode thing down pat and she’s only eight weeks into motherhood. “It’s so cliché.”

“What? That they’re hot? Willing? Ready?” I laugh, but Hazel doesn’t join in.

“I mean, aren’t you ready to stop being the local man cake and start being...”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Hazel says her voice loud over the noisy crowd. “But don’t you just get bored taking home a different girl every night? Don’t you ever want more?”

Clive comes back with the drinks and hands me a beer. It’s a dark amber, and I take a pull to avoid Hazel’s uptight questions.

Running a hand over my beard I cock a brow at Clive. “You gotta rein your woman in, she’s giving me shit.”

Clive reaches around Hazel’s waist, pulling her to him. They look at one another and it’s so damn sweet that it makes my teeth hurt.

“Good,” Clive says, squeezing Hazel’s ass. “She can give you all the shit she wants.”

I laugh. “So, you’re just gonna let her ride my ass?”

Just then Clive’s sisters Maggie and Greta roll up to us carrying shots in both hands.

“Someone says they need a ride?” Maggie asks, always wanting the 411.

“Nobody’s going anywhere,” Clive says laughing.

Maggie shrugs, giving everyone warm smiles--always the life of the party. “Beer?” She hands one to her brother, and Greta gives one to me, Hazel has her sparkling water. We raise our steins, shouting, ‘Cheers’ before throwing them back.

“Damn,” I say, finishing my beer and setting it down on the high table beside us. “I haven’t seen you drink shots since high school, Greta.” Back in the day, all of us felt invincible. Greta and Luke seemed like they had life all figured out--young and in love. And then he died, and everything changed.

She shrugs and then adjusts her little black dress. “I’m getting drunk tonight. I’m bored. And lonely. And have a babysitter.”

I look over at Clive, brows raised. Uptight, perpetually tired Greta getting wasted? This I gotta see.

Maggie elbows her sister. “You’re not supposed to lead with that. If you want to get laid tonight the last thing you’re supposed to do is tell everyone.”

“Not true,” I say. “It usually works for me.”

Greta laughs but Maggie scowls.

“And since when did you become the expert on hook-ups, Mags?” I tease. “I don’t think I’ve seen you out with a guy since you moved back after college.”

She frowns, picking up her stein and muttering under her breath, “Not by choice.”

I look at her for a beat longer than normal, thinking she looks so hot in her skinny jeans and with her hair piled up on the top of her head. Maggie is way too cute to be single. This girl is so funny, always up for anything, and is usually the one who makes sure everyone is having a good time.

She is also my best friend’s little sister and way too much of a sweetheart for a piece of man cake like me.

Greta laughs and my attention turns back to her. And off her little sis. “Thankfully, I’m looking for an older man tonight, Charlie. Thanks, though, for the offer.”

I forgot I offered her anything, my mind was on Maggie, but I play along.

“You won’t let me work for it?” I tease, knowing damn well Greta is like a bossy older sister and I’d never take that woman to bed. Not when this bar is teeming with options.

Still, Clive takes notice of my words because he adds, “Don’t you even think about it, Charlie. My sisters are off-limits. You hear me?”

Greta laughs, but Maggie stays silent, just watching the conversation unfold.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Greta says. “I may be ready to start dating again, but you can be guaranteed that it won’t be with Charlie. I think I’d catch something.”

We all laugh at my expense--and if I were intense I’d let them know that I’ve been tested and am clean. Being a manwhore doesn’t mean I don’t know how to fucking use protection.

“I swear, can you even imagine?” Greta continues, driving home the point that she’d never sleep with me. “Luke would roll over in his grave if he got wind of that.”

Her words were meant to be light, but they still take the wind out of all of us. The memory of Luke, her husband who died five years ago, was not just any ordinary man. He was special and died in an accident on the mountain way too young.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I didn’t mean to get things so ...”

“Greta, don’t apologize,” I say, waving over a bartender who is carrying a bottle of Jager around for refills. “Luke was a good man, the best. Let’s drink to that. And also, let’s drink to you getting wasted!”

We all take up our shot glasses and throw them back.

The alcohol burns my throat, and I catch Maggie’s eyes. She mouths a thank you, and I know what it’s for. She hates to see her sister upset, she’s always looking out for everyone else.

Maggie always has the right words to cheer her sister up, and tonight is no exception. “You need to dance! Come on Hazel, let’s get her on the dance floor before she starts throwing herself at men in the bar.”

Greta laughs, grabbing Hazel’s hand and dragging her along.

Over the last few months, since Clive and Hazel got hitched, the dynamic between Maggie and me has changed. She’s become more obvious that her crush on me never faded and for the first time in forever, I am seeing her as a woman.

A woman I want to get to know better.

Hell, Clive and Hazel getting hitched changed me, too. Hook-ups used to be enough for me, a way to numb myself from the pain of losing one of my best friends … but now?

Now I want more.

Thing is… Maggie is Maggie.

My best friend’s little sister.

And right now, we’re all standing around in a drunken pavilion with plans to party.

Maggie has a knack for turning things around and I know I was grateful she was able to recover Oktoberfest for all of us. The girls run off, leaving Clive and me to our own devices.

For the next ten minutes, Clive and I talk through the tours we have lined up over the next week. We co-own Outdoor Expedition Tour company and it sounds like I’ll be taking a group of men on a three-day hike and then Clive is taking a few father-son duos up the week after.

After talking shop, our eyes wander back to the girls on the dance floor. I can’t help but notice the way Maggie smiles at everyone around her. She’s laughing with an older woman as if they’re long lost friends, and then a second later a group from the local CrossFit gym is shooting the shit with her. I swear she knows everyone in this town.

And while everyone knows her for being so freaking friendly, they know me for being an easy fuck.

Not knowing why I’m so focused on Maggie tonight, I turn my attention to her older sister.

“You think that Greta’s really ready to get back in the saddle?” I ask, worried for the mother of two.

Clive shrugs. “I dunno, I guess it makes sense she wants to meet someone. It’s been a long time.”

We finish our beers, and even with the shots and the loud bar, the night isn’t exactly upbeat. Clive seems to want to drive this point home.

“What about you though, Charlie, ever think about changing your ways? It’s been a long time since Luke died.”

“You’re saying it’s time for me to stop this bender?” I ask, giving him a sidelong look. I’d be offended, but we’ve known one another forever.

Just then the lederhosen-clad college women come up to us, asking if we want to take some shots off them.

Clive lifts his ring finger and flashes them his wedding band, so damn proud. They just smile, oohing and ahhing, and then respectfully turn their attention to me.

“What do you say, mountain man?” the girl with bright red lips asks, slurring her words. Her tits are pushed high, and she’s drunk as fuck.

I look over at Clive, whose eyes are on the dance floor watching his woman. Greta is dancing with an old dude and Maggie is making sure everybody’s taken care of. She delivers her big sister another beer, then leads them all toward a better corner of the dance floor with fewer people. She’s always making sure everyone’s having a good time.

Well, almost everyone. I watch a man starts grinding against her on the dance floor, she scowls at him and turns the other way.

Which is crazy-- she’s pretty--in that girl-next-door kinda way. She isn’t like these women offering me body shots, big tits, and round asses. Maggie is more subdued. Think dark denim and cable knit sweaters--not mini-dresses and hair extensions.

The leader-lady grabs my chin, forcing me to look at her.

“You know they say about men with beards?” the drunk girl asks.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I say, taking her bait. If I run over to Maggie right now and pull her close, Clive won’t be pleased. If I want to make a move with Maggie--and I do--it’s going to have to be without her brother’s watchful eyes.

“With a face of fur, you’ll make her purr,” she says, her words lost to a high-pitched laugh.

Usually, that would be all it would take for me to take her by the waist and pull her in for a kiss. Then I’d take her by the hand and lead her home.

But damn, maybe it’s the fact that she so drunk, or the fact that Hazel and Clive have not so gently let me know they think it’s time I man up.

Everything seems off tonight. I would never have thought that Greta would be ready to move on, but she’s on the dance floor with a guy who’s giving her all kinds of attention.

If she can move on, maybe I can too.

Maybe being the local man cake is only fun for so long.

Maybe at some point, it’s time to be more than a slice of something sweet.

Maybe I can have my cake and eat it, too.