by Tessa Layne
Hope rolled her eyes and focused on a tear in the linoleum. “Of course, Ma. I told you, I’m fine. I just need… to figure some things out.”
Martha stepped around the table and wrapped her in a hug. “You’re my baby. I want to fix everything for you.”
Hope let herself sag into the softness of her mother’s embrace even though she stood three inches taller than Martha. For one brief moment, she let sadness wash over her and accepted the soothing comfort her mother longed to give. She loved being home, being close to her family. But it would take a long time to get used to the fact that she no longer had any privacy. Not in the house, at least.
“I know, Ma. I love you. I just need some quiet tonight.”
“Of course, dear. Do you want the boys to saddle up Phyllis for you?”
Hope snorted. “The last time someone saddled a horse for me, I think I was seven. No way. I’ll be fine. Promise.” She kissed her mother on the cheek. “Besides, I think it’s poker night at the Sinclaires.” She winked at her brothers. “You gonna take Uncle Warren with you?”
Her mother stepped back, glancing over to her brothers. “That’s a good idea. I think he’s a bit lonely. Especially since he’s had to slow down. He’ll want to look in on Maddie at least.”
“And run the poker table,” Axel grumbled.
Hope hid a smile as she ducked out the back door. Warren would keep her brothers busy tonight. They all loved Uncle Warren, and no one could make Axel and Gunn jump through hoops like he could. It was positively entertaining.
In no time, Phyllis was saddled, and they were headed toward the river. She and Phyllis knew this route by heart, and Hope relaxed into the steady rhythm of the horse’s gait, letting her limbs go soft and heavy. A barred owl hooted in the distance. As the night sounds settled over her, Hope felt the tightness in her chest begin to ease. A few minutes more, and she splashed across Steele Creek and settled Phyllis near a small stand of trees. The full moon cast the landscape into stark relief. Across the clearing, the tree house stood dark, nestled in the shadows. Pulling her coat close, she crossed the open space, boots scuffling along the dirt and rocks.
It niggled at her that Ben wasn’t here waiting for her. But why would he be? She’d only been back twice since the night Ben had kissed her. And she’d avoided him at the bonfires. To be honest, she’d been afraid he’d push her into uncomfortable territory.
Or kiss her again.
More importantly, she was afraid of how she’d respond. But after the day she’d had, longing to see him, to talk with him, filled her. She pushed the feeling aside. She couldn’t run to Ben every time she had a problem. Living in Kentucky had taught her unequivocally that she needed to rely on herself. Hope climbed up the ladder, pausing at the top to admire the porch again. It would be truly lovely come springtime.
Pushing the door open, she paused, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. The twinkle lights outside didn’t provide much in the way of interior lighting. Adding a thick rug to the floor had been clever, even though she’d eventually have to shake it out. And the daybed in the corner that functioned like an extra wide couch. Very clever. She crossed to the bed in two steps and crouched, pulling out one of the storage drawers. Inside was a lighter, a flashlight, a mini battery operated lantern.
She gasped, childish delight surging through her. Ben had included a glass lantern with a fat candle. She pulled it out, along with the lighter, and took them to the little table. The lighter flamed to life with a single click. She lit the candle and grinned as the cut glass threw brilliant, warm reflections across the space. “Give me a fireplace and a stove, and I could live here.”
Ben spoke from the doorway. “A princess in her bower.”
Hope let out a yelp and straightened, heart hammering. “Jeez, you know how to give a girl a heart attack. I didn’t hear you.”
Even as children, Ben had been able to sneak up on anyone, including her. He had this crazy way of just materializing out of thin air. He leaned on the doorframe, surveying her intently, and Hope’s heart began to thump wildly again. Not from being startled, but because he simply took her breath away. She traced him, starting at his boots, up to his rock-hard thighs and trim waist, across his torso, to the planes of his face, pulled taut as he studied. He was bare-headed tonight, and his dark hair glinted in the moonlight.
Her fingers itched with the urge to ruffle his hair.
And God help her, she couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. Her nipples pulled tight at the memory of their kiss, and dampness pooled between her legs. She retreated to the daybed and grabbed a pillow as she sat back, holding it across her chest like a shield. She toed off her boots and tucked her feet beneath her. The mattress felt… luxurious. This was a daybed designed with one thing in mind.
Fucking.
And God, to be naked on this bed, stretched out against Ben, legs entwined? Her belly gripped in anticipation. Heat crawled up her neck. Thank heaven for the dim light. Ben wouldn’t be able to tell that her body was flaming. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t let herself go there with Ben. It would only hurt both of them. Giving herself a mental shake, she found her voice, although it came out slightly hoarse.
“Why are you here, Ben?”
He flashed her a panty-melting grin. Devil. How was she supposed to resist him when he smiled at her like that? Her nerve endings jumped, making her restless and twitchy. Her skin felt hypersensitive, like she wouldn’t fully relax until the weight of him pushed her into the blanket covering the daybed.
He pulled out one of the chairs from underneath the little table, flipped it around and sat on it, draping himself over the back, eyes never leaving her. Nervous energy danced over her skin and she tightened her grip on the pillow.
“We kept getting interrupted earlier today. Not much chance of that happening here.”
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dust dry. “No. Not much.”
Silence filled the room until she could only hear the thudding of her heart against her ribs. Just at the point she didn’t think she could stand it any longer, Ben broke the silence, his voice low and husky. “Why’d you come home Hope? No one’s talking. Do you need help? Are you pregnant?”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That’s what you think? That I got knocked up and quit vet school?” Rich. Really rich. She curled into the pillow too angry to speak.
Ben rocked the chair forward. “I swear, Hope. I’d help you.”
“Shut. Up.” She threw the pillow at his head, but he batted it down. “If I was pregnant, and I’m not, I wouldn’t move home. I don’t know what’s in the water around here, but contrary to popular belief, I can manage just fine without a man meddling in my life. I have too much of that.”
“No one’s meddling in your life. We’re just concerned. That’s all.”
She shot him a glare and an arched eyebrow. “Has anyone bothered to ask what I want? What I need?”
A slow grin spread across his features, and a note of promise entered his voice. “Tell me, Hope. What do you want?”
The question hung between them, flickering like the light of the candle, morphing into a blanket that settled over her, making it hard to breathe.
You. I want you, Ben.
She sucked in a breath and the energy spiraled through her, settling between her legs, tightening every cell. What would happen if she launched herself off the bed and went for it? Kissed him with everything she had? The throbbing at her clit intensified at the thought of finally giving in to the tension that arced between them.
He narrowed his gaze, muscles tensing as he stared her down. Daring her to speak her mind. Since when did she not speak her mind? Since Ben had pushed her away and stomped on her offering.
But he was here now. Didn’t that mean something? Could she trust him? More importantly, could she trust herself?
Ben sat the chair back down with a thunk, the noise breaking the cord of tension between them. “Tell me another time, but the question
stands.” He bent and hurled the pillow back across the tiny space, where it landed next to her. “I have an idea.”
She recognized that tone of voice. The playfulness in his voice brought her right back to her childhood. This was safe Ben. Fun Ben. Mildly naughty Ben. “Yeah?”
“How ’bout we pull a fast one on your brothers?”
She grinned in answer. “Fast one? Hell, yeah, I want to blast those two. This is war.”
His answering grin warmed her to her toes. “My thoughts exactly.”
CHAPTER 8
Adrenaline churned through Ben’s gut as he looped Sergeant Pepper’s reins over a low hanging branch. Axel and Gunnar had loved his idea of a “paintball” contest to win Hope. They’d eaten it up. Especially when he’d laid out the income potential and how they could use any profits from a course to set up a college savings account for Maddie and Blake’s baby.
Today was only about testing another possible income stream for the ranch.
Yeah, right.
Who was he fooling? This was about winning Hope. And he was going to make damned sure he was the last man standing. He was making a much bigger deal about this than he should. He couldn’t help it. He was stunned at the sheer number of young bucks that had crawled out of the county’s woodwork to take a chance on winning a date with Hope.
He had to give Axel and Gunnar credit. They were geniuses. They’d organized an online application and weeded out the worst candidates up front. The rest were… not worthy, as far as Ben was concerned. And most of them wouldn’t last two minutes in a paintball war. The young men had been less than excited when Axel and Gunnar started handing out weapons.
“Super-soakers? Are you fucking kidding me?” Johnny Benoit had griped.
Axel shook his head. “Think we’d waste thousands of dollars investing in real paintball equipment for you young bucks? When we get real equipment you can pay for the privilege of playing soldier on our property. But for now, it’s time to cowboy up and show us what you’re made of.”
“Then what about roping?” Johnny scowled, and the others nodded in agreement. “Or target practice?”
Axel had grinned, and marked something on a clip-board. “Tsk, tsk, Johny. Two demerits for lack of humor.”
Gunnar passed out super-soakers to the men gathered. “Anybody sprayed with paint is out. Axel and I will escort you to your starting points. You get sprayed, drop your weapon and make your way back here. Axel and I will be patrolling on horseback. Any funny business and you deal with us. Got it?”
The men nodded, a few grumbled.
“Our sister, our rules,” retorted Axel. “Don’t like ’em, don’t play. Now, raise your hand and take the Cowboy Oath of Honor.”
“For real?” protested the young man who’d passed Hope a note at the diner.
“She better be worth it,” groused another.
Gunnar scowled and leveled a glare across the group. “This is your last chance. You don’t want to play along, go home.”
That had been the last Ben had seen of the group. He’d ridden off toward the center of the course. For a brief second, Ben wondered how pissed Axel and Gunnar would be when they discovered that he and Hope had beaten them at their own game. Pushing the thought aside, he smiled and shook his head as he set a giant tub of thinned down white paint underneath a large hickory tree.
Ben turned at the crunch of boots behind him. “You ready?”
Hope stood before him decked out in her trademark baggy jeans, boots, beat-up wool cowboy hat, and braids. She held a super-soaker in each hand, grinning wickedly. Ben’s heart thudded erratically. Who else but Hope could shine in work clothing? He stepped close and tugged on a braid. Had he ever seen her hair unbound? His gut clenched at the thought of running his fingers through her hair, of seeing it fanned out as she lay beneath him. He swallowed, his throat suddenly parched. “You should tuck these up. Don’t wanna get paint on them.”
Her eyes danced as she shot him a saucy smile. “You think I’m gonna get sprayed? Think again, cowboy. I’m a better shot than you are.”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. At one time she had been. “Them’s fightin’ words, darlin’.”
She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you suggesting something?” Her voice held a note of invitation.
“What color paint you have in there?” He nodded at her loaded super-soakers.
“What color you think? Pink.”
Ben groaned. “Serious?”
She shrugged. “I like the idea of seeing a cowboy covered in pink paint. It’s… kinky.” She winked at him. “What’s in yours?” She nodded at his weapons, which were on the ground next to the paint bins.
“Blue.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course.” She rolled back her shoulders. “Game on then. We can count our ‘kills’ at the end.”
Ben narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you mean. Aren’t you just going to wait here? It’s the easiest target.”
“That what you’re gonna do?” Hope shook her head, tsking. “Softie.”
“This is war. I aim to win.”
“I’m not gonna wait around on my ass for victory to come to me. I’m gonna claim it.” She had a hungry look in her eye. “Besides, to the victor go the spoils.”
“And what spoils are you talking about, Hope?” Need swirled through him, hot and heavy. Her gaze went hot. His skin contracted under her stare, and a pulse of desire shot straight to his balls.
Her tongue swept out to wet her lower lip. “I’ll decide when I’ve won.”
They so weren’t talking about this game. “What if I win?”
Energy crackled between them and her eyes blazed. “Then you decide.”
Oh hell, yes.
“Guess I better win then.” He couldn’t bring himself to step away.
“Guess I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Hope?”
“Yes?” The word fell out of her mouth like a sigh.
“I mean to win.” And tonight, finally, he could claim the spoils of victory. The culmination of years of waiting.
The smile she offered incinerated him. “We’ll see about that, cowboy.” She reached out and drew a finger down the exposed vee of skin above his shirt, then pushed on him. “Watch your back.” She winked, spun on her heel, and sashayed away, hips swaying seductively.
Goddamn.
Ben sucked in a breath, willing the blood back from his cock to his brain. If she was going on the hunt, then he would too. Determination surged through him. She was not going to beat him at his game.
He crossed back to the paint bins, grabbed his super soakers, and headed for the brush close to the river. To beat Hope he needed to nail six contestants. Of the finalists, the only two he knew personally were Jimmy and Johnny Benoit. And while Johnny might want to date Hope, Ben was fairly certain Jimmy was just along for the ride. That was the kind of guy he was. The other kid from the diner could be a problem. His eyes gleamed every time Axel or Gunnar mentioned Hope. Jealousy slithered through him. The way that young cowboy looked at Hope set him on edge. Taking out that guy would be a pleasure.
The rest seemed harmless enough, but a flash of possessiveness swept through him. No one, no one was gonna mess with his Hope. He’d slay every dragon for her and then some. Ben knelt and swept his fingers through the dirt, offering a silent invocation to his ancestors. He needed all the luck he could get today. Slipping into the brush, he made his way south, parallel to the river. No one could move as quietly as he could, and he meant to use every advantage.
Pausing, he heard twigs snapping off to his left. He swung around, scanning for movement among the bushes. Someone was pushing blindly through the scrub, oblivious to the noise they were making. Ben readied his soaker, and as soon as his prey came within distance, he squeezed the trigger. A stream of thin blue paint exploded through the muzzle, raining down blue drops on Jimmy Benoit’s Stetson and across his jacket.
Stunned, Jimmy stopped and turned, eyes w
idening when he recognized Ben. “Aww man,” he took off his hat, studying the paint. “Did you have to hit my hat?”
“Sorry man,” Ben chuckled. “Love and war.”
Jimmy narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You playing? Or just messing with us?”
Ben began to pump air back into the soaker. “Little bit of both.”
“Shit, man. Why didn’t you just say so up front?”
Ben gave him a smile. “More fun this way. Do me a favor. Keep this on the DL. I wanna see Axel and Gunnar’s faces when they realize we’ve gotten them.”
Jimmy’s brow furrowed. “We? Wait. Is Hope in on this too?” He shook his head. “Tell you what. You treat me and Johnny to a round next time you’re at the Trading Post, and I’ll keep quiet. Axel and Gunnar pranked me good a year ago. It’s about time someone turned the tables.” He offered his hand to Ben. “There’s about four other guys down on the other side of the river.”
A shout rang out about fifty yards in the distance. Someone had been hit, maybe more. Question was, who? And by whom? Ben started in the direction of the shout. “Catch you later,” he tossed over his shoulder, as he left Jimmy, confidence surging. No one knew these woods like he did. Ben crouched low in the bushes as he approached the voices.
“Who the hell put pink paint in their weapon?” A voice whined.
Ben fought down a chuckle. Score one for Hope.
The other voice responded. “Who cares? We’re both out. This was a dumbass idea. I thought it would be way easier to score a piece of tail. This ain’t worth it.”
“Why go to all this trouble unless she’s some kind of a freak.”
Anger rushed through Ben and he ground his teeth together. He couldn’t quite see who the voice belonged to, and it took all his self-control not to barrel through the bushes and start pounding. Who did these assholes think they were? Heat crawled up his neck and prickled his scalp. All the more reason to get this damned game ended. He’d have a word with Axel and Gunnar when this was over. Hope deserved better than this.