by C. M. Owens
He flashes me a grin.
“I’ll tell you soon. She’s actually the reason I decided to buy the cabin out here. This is her hometown.”
My jaw drops, and he winks at me.
“So that explains the total lack of interest in all things with a vagina. I sort of wondered if you were into men,” I say thoughtfully.
He barks out a laugh, and I smile as he shakes his head. “Nah. I’m still working up the courage to tell her I stalked her here. I haven’t seen her out yet, but in a place this small, it’s bound to happen sooner or later. I just didn’t expect everyone to be so spread out.”
I start to try to pry a name out of him again, when suddenly he’s smiling at something over my shoulder. “Hey, I’m Liam Harper.”
“I know. We’ve met multiple times now,” Benson says, his body moving in behind me on my seat at the picnic table.
His legs come up beside mine as he straddles the seat and me from behind. His hands rest on his legs, but just his proximity is having me swallow harder.
Liam looks confused for the barest second before his eyebrows hit his hairline. “Benson Nolans?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I don’t look that different,” Benson groans.
“Yeah. Yeah, you do,” Liam says, and I tilt my head back on Benson’s chest to smile up at him.
He glares down at me, but his twitching lips betray him. Without thinking, I reach up, my fingers touching the side of his face. He goes stiff behind me, the humor in his eyes dying.
“I like being able to finally see a damn expression,” I tell him, even though I’m saying this upside down.
His smile returns as my fingers trace down the surprisingly soft remnants of his beard. It’s not wiry anymore; short like this, it feels like silk. Okay, not that soft, but definitely soft enough to feel inviting.
“Benson!” Delaney calls, then stops when she sees us.
She deflates almost instantly, and actually looks hurt for a brief second. I’ll explain to her later that Benson has been mine for three years, but I didn’t realize it until I woke up on top of him.
“Do not leave me alone with them,” Benson says quietly as I lower my hand, and I hear Liam start to laugh.
“Glad I came in at the end of this beard thing,” Liam says, causing Benson’s lips to twitch.
“You’re the one who was over there with them. I always hang out in this exact spot,” I point out, still looking up at Benson, who frowns down at me.
“I had to talk to Paul about importing some materials too big to drive on that rickety road behind my place. He’s the one with the barge. Then I had to listen to fifteen stories about random things before I could get away from him. You know how Paul is.”
And now I feel like I’ve been pouting for no reason.
I shrug, looking back over at Liam, who is staring at anything but us right now as he leans back on the picnic table.
Benson wouldn’t embarrass someone by shrugging them off, hence the reason Lindy and Delaney touching him didn’t get rebuffed. I still don’t like it. I’d rather him be an ass. I’m used to my brothers—they’d both be total assholes.
“I kind of miss my beard right now,” Benson grumbles when Lindy starts walking our way.
“I miss your beard too,” I say too quietly for him to hear.
No other women noticed him before I stupidly helped get that bad beard gone. Now it feels like I’m struggling to keep him to myself like I’ve done for the past three years.
“Lindy!” Aunt Penny yells before Lindy can reach us. “I need help with these desserts!”
Lindy stares at Benson for a beat, but he leans over like he’s hiding beside my face, his breath tickling my neck until I laugh, unable to stop it. His arms are strong around my waist as they tighten there.
I’ve never once gotten a death glare from another woman.
Not a damn one.
Until now.
I never should have ruined the beards.
“Coming,” Lindy says before spinning on a heel. “Maybe Lilah could help us too,” she adds so sweetly.
“Lilah always helps. She’s at all these gatherings. Thought maybe some of you new girls could pull your weight for the night,” Aunt Penny, the most awesome woman in the universe, says.
Benson snickers beside me as I laugh, and Liam even chuckles.
His eyes scan the place, and I secretly wonder who’s missing. It’s a small town. Sure, there are more single women than I realized initially, but I don’t know who he’d be looking for.
“Still don’t see her?” I ask.
He shakes his head, darting an apprehensive glance to Benson, and I realize he doesn’t want him knowing.
Got it.
“See who?” Benson asks.
“One of the girls here asked him for a three-way. He’s trying to avoid her,” I deadpan.
Liam’s lips twitch when Benson strangles on air, and I wink at him, letting him know I’m damn good at keeping secrets.
“I don’t want to stick around for fireworks. Think they’d get mad if we bailed early? All the buzz over my beard being gone is getting annoying,” Benson says close to my ear.
Butterflies. I’ve totally got butterflies. Because I’m fairly sure he’s telling me I’m coming with him, or at least assuming I am.
That’s normal, but tonight it seems a little different. I think. Or maybe I’m being a girl and seeing something that’s not there.
“Sure,” I say all too readily.
He stands, his arm sliding around my waist, and we both tell Liam bye before making our way toward the boat.
“Hey, Nolans. We need to talk to you,” Killian says, eyeing the hand Benson has on my waist.
Benson sighs. “Ignore them,” I tell him.
“Can’t. Just let me deal with it, then we’ll get out of here.”
Even though I try to stop him, he still goes to my brothers, who smirk at me. Fortunately, I’ve seen Benson rough both of them up in the past. Like that time they broke my bathroom window and I got stung by a bunch of bees as a result. Did I mention they broke my window with a limb that had a beehive on it?
Yeah. They were like Pooh Bear going for honey, and it didn’t end well for me when the limb and hive crashed through my bathroom window as I was showering.
The damn hive didn’t have any honey in it. It wasn’t honey bees.
Dick bags.
I know they had to know that.
Benson literally beat the shit out of them for a while before he made them go buy me comfort foods, hydrocortisone cream, and various other things while he patched up a temporary window and ordered me a new one.
That they paid for.
Why didn’t I think I liked him sooner?
I really should have just slept on top of his chest a year or two ago. Then I could have had him before he lost the beard and every other girl wanted him.
“So what’s up with that?” Delaney asks me, her tone guarded as she stares at Benson talking to my brothers.
He’s smirking. They’re not smiling at all.
“What’s up with what?” I ask as I turn to face her, playing dumb.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You’ve never acted interested in anyone, then I flirt half the day with him, competing with Lindy this entire time, and suddenly you’re cuddled up with him on the picnic table? Seriously, what gives?”
My smile slowly spreads. “You never saw him before he lost the bad beard, did you?”
She frowns. “What?”
“Delaney, that is maybe a little more affectionate than we’ve been in the past, but not much. We’re always touching, and always hanging out at these gatherings—not that you’re here to see that. I do his shopping on Tuesdays when I go into town. Benson and I have been friends for three years at least. I’ve even talked about him to you, and it’s like you never paid attention when I said his name. Nothing romantically related, but he came up in many conversations.”
Her entire face falls. �
��Oh,” she says, her face reddening.
The sun is starting to set now, and she fidgets awkwardly, focusing on where the massive ball of fire is sinking into the horizon.
“Makes sense why he was so uncomfortable with us. I thought it was just because he was shy and not used to the attention. Found it sort of cute or endearing. Now I feel stupid.”
I laugh lightly. “No need. I feel stupid for making the beards go away.”
Her eyes widen and she grabs my shoulders, shaking me a little. There’s my Delaney. “Don’t you ever say that again. This town finally, finally has men in it that don’t look like they crawled out of a gutter or survived an island where no one had to look at them for a decade. We should erect a statue of you to commemorate this momentous occasion that has forever changed Tomahawk for the better.”
We both dissolve into laughter, and Benson is suddenly back, his arm slipping around my waist and dragging me closer.
“What’d I miss?” he asks, though he feels a little stiff.
Delaney’s eyes twinkle with humor, and she winks at me. “Nothing. Just talking about sculptures. I’m going to go keep Paul company.”
She saunters away, and Benson relaxes against me. “Let’s go before someone else tries to stop us.”
“What’d my brothers say?” I ask as he pulls my hand.
“Threatened me with bodily harm if I took your virginity.”
I stumble over my own feet, and he laughs, turning to face me.
“I’m not a virgin,” I quickly tell him.
“I don’t think they want to accept that as the truth.”
I glare over my shoulder at my two brothers, who are staring at us with their arms crossed over their chests, daring Benson to make a wrong move.
“You can still kick their asses, right?” I ask as Benson tugs me to his boat, helping me off the dock.
“One on one in a fair fight? Definitely.”
Chapter 8
Wild Ones Tip #413
If a squirrel has firecrackers, run for your damn life.
Benson brings me another beer, popping the top on one of his own, as he shrugs out of his shirt.
My eyes widen, and I grip the beer in my hand too tightly. He tosses the shirt away, and he sits down beside me, dropping his arm over my shoulders like it’s no big deal that he’s now shirtless.
And touching me.
And shirtless.
I try to fix my attention on the TV, but it’s too hard.
“We’ll go out when we hear the fireworks starting,” he says. “But all the beer has me burning up.”
I can’t help myself; I poke his stomach to see if it’s as hard as it looks, and he jerks, looking down at me like I’m a crazy girl.
“How are you so hard?”
He chokes on his beer, and I replay those words in my head.
“I mean your body,” I amend.
He laughs lightly, shaking his head. “I kayak first thing in the morning almost every morning, which you know. I work on various projects—physically demanding projects, which you know. You’ve seen my gym; it’s not just for looks. Not to mention the running—”
“You run?” I ask, interrupting him as horror washes over me. “On purpose?”
His smile slowly forms. I really like that smile he’s been hiding for too long. “Yeah. At least once a day, usually early mornings…why?”
I shudder dramatically. “I don’t know you at all.”
A rumble of laughter escapes him as I try to process that.
“I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” I tell him, looking back at the imposter who I thought was awesome just a few seconds ago.
He just grins broader, not taking this as seriously as he should.
“So Liam and you looked chummy tonight,” he says, deflecting.
“Well, he didn’t confess to something as nasty as running on purpose.”
That smile only grows. “You trading me in for him as a friend? Or was he finally asking you out?”
I shrug, smirking as I redirect my attention to the TV.
“He’s not interested in me in that way. And I’m not interested in him. Too pretty for me.”
“Because he doesn’t have a beard,” he says hesitantly.
“No. Because he’s freakishly gorgeous.”
He bristles beside me, and I turn to face him.
“Why the inquisition?” I muse, echoing his words from that odd little breakfast we shared.
“Just curious,” he says before turning his beer up.
Absently, I notice his other hand is twirling strands of my hair around it.
“Weirdly, I know more about his story before Tomahawk than I know about yours. And we’ve known each other for six years. Been friends for three years. I’ve known Liam for a handful of days.”
He clears his throat, shifting uneasily. “What do you want to know?”
“The usual,” I say, turning to face him, feeling a little eager to get some answers.
Just as he opens his mouth to speak, there’s a loud pounding on the door. Cursing, he stands and goes to answer it, but I almost demand he puts a shirt on when people start walking in.
No one else is allowed to see him like this.
See? Crazy girl alert.
But it’s okay, because I’m a Vincent. People expect some crazy.
“Benson!” Paul calls. “Care if we watch the fireworks from over here? Her damn brothers are driving us crazy with that bungie launcher they built,” Paul says, gesturing toward me.
Then Lindy walks in, her eyes going straight to the half-naked specimen that is mine. Well, he will be.
I’ve decided that there’s no way I can keep living in denial. Time to move on to another phase and hope Benson wants me too. I just don’t know how to test those waters without being awkward about it.
Benson has been a permanent fixture in my life for a while, and ever since sleeping on top of him, I haven’t been able to get him out of my head. And it’s Benson. We’re friends. We’re best friends, actually.
That could be a good thing, right?
Lindy smiles brightly at him as several other men and women walk in. I don’t bother looking at their faces, because I’m too concentrated on Benson as he walks back toward me.
“Looks like I don’t have a choice,” he tells Paul. “But this better mean my materials get moved up to the top of the list.”
Paul nods, grinning with delight, as Delaney drops to his lap on the chair next to us. Lindy moves toward us, but Benson literally pulls me onto his lap before she can make a move.
Again, I get the evil eye, even as I try not to grin.
Lindy is ballsy, but she’s not a Vincent or a Wild One. She knows I trump her level of crazy, and I see the moment she knows she can’t compete.
Benson’s arms go around my waist, and he buries his face in my neck. “Tell me when she’s gone,” he whispers, and I fight really hard not to laugh.
“Lindy! Come join us,” someone shouts from the side.
Benson’s pool table is coming in handy as Lindy goes to show off her skills in her daisy dukes.
“Best. Night. Ever,” Paul sighs as Delaney smiles against his lips.
Benson shakes his head, his face still against my neck.
“She’s gone,” I tell him, and he lifts his head, scanning the room to make sure I’m not tricking him.
He doesn’t let me out of his lap, so I stay in place as Delaney tells us about what my brothers were doing. Apparently they decided watermelons were awesome ammo for their new contraption.
They also thought Aunt Penny’s pies were awesome ammo.
And I give it maybe fifteen more minutes before she’s chasing them with the BB gun until they’re off her property.
Benson’s hands stay clasped around my middle as I talk to Delaney about my trip out to Seattle that’s coming up next month for a graphic design seminar I want to attend. That’s when Lindy returns.
“So, you two got cozy quick,�
� Lindy says, her annoyed eyes betraying her smiling lips.
She’s carefully navigating, scoping out my crazy reach, testing the waters.
“They’re always like that,” Paul says dismissively, which has Lindy deflating like Delaney did earlier.
Sheesh. Has no one ever noticed him at all when he was with me? It’s like he was invisible or something.
Benson gulps down another beer, and I start noticing that he’s getting drunk when his hands start drifting over my body, touching me a little less safely. His thumb even brushes my breast once.
This isn’t the first time, but it’s the first time I haven’t stopped his hands while laughing it off.
Usually he gets drunk, gets handsy, then he’s mortified the next day. By usually, I mean this has happened a total of five times. It’s why he rarely drinks around me.
Tonight, however, I don’t bat his hands away.
I also know that I should, because we’re both a little tipsy, which is also a first. Usually one stays sober while the other drinks. And by usually, again, like a handful of times.
I’ve been handsy before on Benson, according to Paul, but I don’t remember it, and Aunt Penny never saw it. And Benson said it never happened. So…who knows?
I lean back, sighing as Benson’s lips brush my neck. Something he’d never, ever do sober. Hence the reason I know he’s getting drunker by the beer.
I drink more of mine, and he looks over, gesturing toward Delaney who is ramming her tongue down Paul’s throat. Paul is in heaven, but I think he’s about to have an accident.
According to rumors, it’s been a while for him.
I laugh while standing, noticing Lindy is back at the pool table, no longer watching us.
Thunderous booms rattles the sky, causing the house to quake, and Benson smiles down at me as we both grab a fresh beer from the ice bucket one of the others set up, and head outside to watch the fireworks.
He tugs me to him, resting his chin on top of my head as I lean back against him. The fireworks sprinkle across the sky, beautiful and bright, demanding attention.
I’m barely able to notice the others coming out to join us, everyone gushing over the beautiful display. My uncle drives for miles to get the good stuff for these things. He has three closets packed full of just fireworks.