by Tessa Layne
Her tree house held so much of her life. Her dreams, her heartache. When she was fourteen, she’d taken a sharpie from the tackle box and lifted up a plank in the far corner, drawing a heart and inscribing Ben’s and her initials, before replacing it. There was more of her in the tree house than her childhood room. Hope could feel her blood slowing as she heard the first murmurings of the creek. She never felt like she was truly home until she climbed the ladder and hauled herself onto the platform sheltered in the boughs of the ancient oak.
The crossing looked pretty much the same. New cedar sprouts crowded the bank, obscuring some of the bend, but the old hickory tree still stood, its branches reaching out far over the creek. Hope urged the horse across, heart lifting at the familiar sight. Then she gasped and pulled Phyllis up short. She started to shake as she digested what was in front of her.
A brand new structure stood where the old tree house had been. Her nose tingled from the sharp aroma of the cedar resin. Dismounting and throwing the reins over a low hanging branch, she stepped closer, blood pounding. The tree house had every feature she’d ever dreamed of.
Every. Single. Thing.
From the balcony for outside sleeping and stargazing, to the side ladder entrance, instead of coming up through the floor. A tiny house in a tree. She could only imagine what was inside. Only one person could have done this.
Ben.
Her heart lurched painfully. Okay, maybe that night wasn’t water under the bridge. Confronted with his handiwork, the pain of his rejection still stung.
It had taken all summer to get up the nerve to make a move. She’d felt his gaze on her all summer. Licking her, heating her skin. But every time she left an opening, he’d gone away. Finally, two nights before she left for college, she couldn’t take it any more. She’d taken the bull by the horns and taken off her shirt. Then kissed him with everything she’d had.
Her stomach flipped at the memory. Did you ever forget the sensation of your first kiss? The way your stomach dropped and your heart slammed into your ribs so hard your skin nearly busted? Kissing Ben had been incredible. Everything she’d dreamed of and more. Her whole body had turned to rubber. Her breasts had become heavy, and the pulsing between her legs had made her knees shake. Her head swam with the overload of sensation. Even thinking of it now made her body ache like she was eighteen again.
And then he’d stepped away, the look on his face a mix of desire and anger.
“Are you trying to ruin everything? What were you thinking, Hope?”
“I-I-I thought… I thought–” Shame flooded her, making her go cold and hot all at once. How did she so gravely miscalculate? She scrambled for her shirt, trying to cover herself, and her abject mortification.
“Well you thought wrong.”
God. Even now, embarrassment flamed her chest. And then she’d stupidly gone and declared herself. As if that would fix it. Convince him this was a good idea. Instead, it had only made him angrier.
“But I love you. I want you to be my first.”
“Are you crazy? You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Please, Ben. I know–”
“You don’t know anything. You’re just a kid.”
That had been the last straw. The insult added to injury. And even now, it still smarted. Her only regret? That she’d blurted out she hated him. There was nothing further from the truth. Not in a million years could she ever hate Ben Sinclaire. No matter how profoundly he’d hurt her.
The new and improved tree house was an olive branch. Hope knew it in the deepest part of herself. Question was, would she take it? She suspected this wasn’t the first time Ben had reached out. This was only the most obvious.
She’d been home for an extended stay a few years back and had taken an early morning ride, naturally ending up here. She’d climbed up the ladder and discovered someone had been there recently. All the dust and leaves had been swept away. She’d known instantly it had been Ben. It couldn’t have been anyone else.
She’d let her anger and embarrassment get the best of her, and for the first time ever, she’d stayed away from her beloved sanctuary. But she was older now. A little wiser. And besides, she was so over Ben Sinclaire. Right?
The fluttering in her belly told a different story.
The structure beckoned temptingly in the fading light. And there were twinkle lights. They must be solar lights, unless he’d figured out how to rig up a generator. If anyone could figure out how to do that, Ben could. Or at least the Ben she’d known eight years ago.
She worried her lip between her teeth.
Eight years was a lifetime. Ben was probably different. Lots different. Heck, she was. She sighed as a weight blanketed her. She was home to put the pieces of her life back together. And that life didn’t involve Ben Sinclaire. In any way, shape, or form.
Shaking her head, she toed the ground and started back to where she’d looped Phyllis’s reigns over a low hanging branch. She risked a look back at the tree house. It was so… perfect. Would it hurt to take a tiny peek? Slowly, as if pulled by an invisible rope, she turned and walked straight to the ladder, heart hammering. Placing a boot on the bottom rung, she paused.
There was no way Ben would be inside. Would he? He’d have to be crazy to sit up there, waiting on the chance she’d stop by. She hadn’t seen another horse in the clearing. But that didn’t mean anything. Ben had hiked to the tree house as often as he’d ridden.
Stop being silly.
For God’s sakes. The man was thirty. He might have rebuilt her tree house, but there was no way he was waiting for her. He’d moved on. He’d made that clear eight years ago. And finally, so had she.
Blowing out a long breath, she began to climb. He was either going to be there, or he wasn’t. And honestly, it made no difference to her. None at all. So why was she shutting her eyes as her head drew even with the platform?
Forcing the thought away and her eyes open, she clambered up and placed her hands on the conveniently placed handholds, hoisting herself onto the balcony.
She let out a little laugh. Good thing Ben wasn’t here. Nothing remotely graceful about hauling yourself into a tree house. A wicker chair stood nestled in the farthest corner. How in the heck had he managed to get that way up here? But it would be a great place to read, come spring. Or lie in a sleeping bag next to it and watch the stars.
The structure had real glass windows that looked like they opened. A definite improvement over the open air holes that had left them freezing in winter. And sure enough, the door to the enclosed portion was an old-fashioned farmhouse door, split so the top could be opened for fresh air.
Or playing store.
A pang of sadness poked at her. This couldn’t be happening. Had he really built everything she’d ever talked about? Holding her breath, she edged toward the door and nudged it open with her toe.
Two things registered at once as her eyes flew to the shiny black boots attached to very muscular legs stretched out across the floor. Up the very broad chest and folded arms encased in a worn Carhartt, to the black Stetson tipped over his eyes.
Ben was here, and holy hell, did he look good.
Her blood rioted like a swarm of bees, buzzing through her ears, and rooting her to where she stood.
He leaned forward, and tipped back the Stetson, revealing dark hazel eyes that she’d never in a million years forget. Even in the dim interior, she could tell the years had been good to Ben. The soft features she’d loved as a young woman had matured into chiseled planes. He was broader… harder. Her insides melted in a rush of heat.
Oh God. OhGodohGodohGod.
Hope’s pulse thrummed in her ears. Three hundred grasshoppers hopped simultaneously in her stomach. She couldn’t breathe.
Ben gave her a slow and devastatingly sexy smile. “Hello, Hope. Been a long time.”
CHAPTER 4
Just play it cool, man.
God, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her girlish features
had grown into womanly curves. Her baggy jeans couldn’t hide the full, round hips beneath the denim. Had her mouth always been that plump and kissable?
She still wore her strawberry hair in two long braids, and they still seemed to be working loose, the way he remembered, giving her an air of irresistible softness that was at odds with her stormy expression.
His heart hammered uncomfortably against his ribs.
She stood ramrod straight, glowering as if she was trying to stare him into the floor. “Just what do you think you’re doing up here, Ben Sinclaire? And-and… what have you done to my tree house?” She flung out a hand, encompassing the space. If she was a dragon, he’d be nothing but a pile of ashes. Her fierce expression brought to mind the only other time he’d seen her this angry.
He’d been sixteen, so that would have made Hope twelve. He’d broken their unspoken rule and brought a girl up to the tree house. Cissy Castro, if he remembered correctly. He’d wanted a quiet place to make out, and the tree house fit the bill. Until Hope had popped her head through the opening just as he was slipping his hand under Cissy’s shirt.
Ben covered a laugh. The similarities between the twelve year-old and the woman before him were unmistakable. Young Hope had spit fire and wrath like a Viking berserker, screeching at Cissy to get out of her tree house and turning on him with a vengeance. He’d felt bad. He hadn’t realized until that moment how important the tree house was to Hope. At the same time, he’d also realized that Hope had a little crush on him. He thought it was sweet, but had dismissed it. She was just a kid.
After he’d taken a very irritated Cissy home, he’d returned to the tree house and was surprised to find Hope still there, hunched against the wall, hugging her knees and staring out the little opening they called a window. She’d shot him a glare of pure rage. “I’m the only girl allowed here.”
“Aww, Hope. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Well I do.” Her lower lip thrust out in a pout. “And what were you doing to her?”
He’d shrugged it off. “You’ll want to kiss someone someday.”
Her face had wrinkled in disgust. “Eeewww. Kissing is gross.”
Let her think that a little longer. The thought of her kissing a boy didn’t sit well with him. “Let’s make a deal then. No kissing allowed in the tree house. I won’t bring anyone here, but neither can you.”
She gave him a scathing glare. “As if. I’d never bring a boy here.”
Hope had scrambled to her knees and reached into the little tackle box that held things like markers, paper, a few arrowheads, and a flashlight. Grabbing a marker and popping off the lid, she wrote in big bold letters on the wall: NO KISSING ALLOWED.
Then she’d turned to him, spit on her palm and extended it. He was too old for this, but it wouldn’t hurt to humor her. So for the second time in his life, he spit-shook with Hope Hansen.
And while things had eventually blown over, something had altered between them that day, and Ben had come around a little less frequently. He could tell his absence hurt her, but he didn’t want to give her any ideas. She was a great kid. Lively, perceptive, funny. And he adored her the same way he did his sister, Emma.
He studied the woman in front of him. How would she react if he told her why he was really here? A knot of worry clenched in his gut. Fuck it. He’d waited long enough. Time to take the bull by the horns. “We have unfinished business, Hope.”
A look of pure anguish twisted the softness in her face. “Our business finished the night you told me I was crazy and just a kid.”
He cringed as his conscience pricked at him. That pain was all because of him. “About that…”
Her mouth pinched closed, and she shook her head firmly, hugging her arms. “Oh no. You don’t get to throw away a friendship then waltz back in eight years later a-an-and build me the tree house of my dreams. What were you thinking?”
She was good. Throwing his words back at him like that. At least she’d noticed he’d included every detail she’d ever dreamed about in the new structure. He’d take a small victory. But it irked him she was accusing him of throwing away their friendship when she was the one who’d broken their rule and brought someone to the tree house. “Who exactly threw away our friendship?”
She shifted her weight, arms still crossed defensively. A move that, if she hadn’t been wearing a leather jacket, would have accentuated her curves. God, he ached to run his hands under her coat and familiarize himself with the sweep of her breast, the dip of her waist. His fingers twitched at the thought. He’d replayed that night countless times, always taking things further than they’d gone.
“Considering you were the one who said I ruined everything, you did.”
He stood, bracing his hands against the large crossbeam, and leaned toward her. “You broke the kissing rule.”
Her eyes widened at the accusation. “What do you mean? I didn’t kiss anyone. Well, except you, and like you said, that ruined everything.”
“What about the next night? I came back. You were here with a boy.”
She sucked in a breath, face registering shock. “You came back?” Disbelief colored her voice.
He gave her a crooked smile. Might as well throw all the cards on the table. “It’s possible I had a change of heart.”
The look she leveled at him was weighted with suspicion. “You had a change of heart.”
“I came back.” He sighed heavily, insides roiling in discomfort. Nothing about this conversation was easy. “I wanted to set things right. And, yes, I wanted to kiss you.” He let that sink in. “But you were… occupied.”
Her mouth dropped open, and just as quickly, she snapped it shut and pinched her nose at the crease between her eyebrows. Dropping her hand, she glared at him, shaking her head. “Oh no. You don’t get to do this.”
“Do what? Clear the air?” The tree house suddenly felt confining. Like the two of them were too much for the walls. This conversation was too intense for the small space.
“You do not get to put the demise of our friendship on me. You left. You bailed out.”
Maybe coming here had been a mistake. Maybe he should have let sleeping dragons lie. He let years of pent up emotion get the better of him as his voice rose. “I came back.”
“Did you think after you humiliated me, I would wait around for one second?” Her voice trembled with barely contained outrage.
“I thought you wouldn’t run out and drag the first piece of ass you could find into our tree house.”
Hope’s eyes flashed fire. He knew he was pushing her buttons. He couldn’t help it. He’d been sucker punched that night, hearing her laugh with someone else.
“Our tree house? If it was ours, how come you stayed away? This has always been my sanctuary, my retreat.”
“Bullshit. Now you’re being melodramatic. It’s been ours since day one, and you know it.”
He’d stayed away more than he should have those last few summers before everything blew up, but he couldn’t watch her turn into a woman, knowing she was off-limits. Jesus. He was only human.
She narrowed her eyes, not saying anything.
“Who was it? Who’d you bring here?” A knot lodged itself in his gut, as he braced himself.
Her face twisted. “Darwin Castro.”
Shit. Him? “Wait… isn’t he…”
“Gay? Yes, you knobhead. He was also the only person in the world who knew how I felt about you.” She stared at the floor, making a circle with the toe of her boot. “Cissy bought him a six-pack of cheap beer, gave him a joint, and drove him to my place. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see I was upset.”
“Cissy bought you booze, and gave you a joint?”
Hope rolled her eyes. “Seriously. That’s what you’re fixating on?”
Fuck.
He should be doing a goddamned jig. She wasn’t fucking around with someone else in their tree house. She’d been drowning her sorrows. He was an idiot.
S
he laughed bitterly. “Let me get this straight. You exercised great heroism the night you humiliated me. Then you had a change of heart, and decided we had… something.” She waved her hands between the two of them. “And you came back the next night, but when you saw I was there with someone, instead of investigating, you turned around and left without a word.”
“Shit, Hope. I was twenty-two. I had my head up my ass.” The knot in his gut tightened and twisted. “What was I supposed to do, march up to your front porch and ask to see you?” He shook his head. “Jesus. Our families were practically at war. Your brothers would have beat me to a pulp if I’d set foot on your property. Hell, I’m not so sure they wouldn’t now.”
She stuck out her chin stubbornly. “I wouldn’t have let them.”
He barked out an angry laugh. “You couldn’t have stopped them. C’mon. You’re fierce, but even you couldn’t pull the two of them off of me if they didn’t want you to, and you know it.”
Her eyes glittered in the pale light. “You bailed out on us.”
He took a step forward, letting go of the beam. Crowding her. “Well, I’m here now.”
The air between them grew heavy and thick.
He swallowed. She looked so vulnerable in the dim light, cheeks kissed by the last rays of sun before it dipped behind the hill. He ached for her. Ached to touch her. Before he could stop himself, he reached out, drawing his thumb along her cheekbone and down her jaw, bringing his fingers to rest under her chin.
His breath lodged deep in his ribs. “Hope.”
She gasped, mouth softening. Her tongue darted out, sweeping her lower lip.
“Hope… I…”