This Love of Mine

by Miranda Liasson

Sequels suck. From Ben.

  She sucked in a breath. Perused the bar, but other than the usual patrons, she saw no one.

  Another text. Never as good as the original. Besides, you’re busy.

  “Meg.”

  Her heart gave a ridiculous knock against her rib cage. Every cell in her body went on alert at the sound of that voice calling her name.

  No. She willed her overactive neurons to stop firing. Willed the adrenaline to stop pumping. Because she was done with him. He was what he was, and she was not going to forgive him after one mere glimpse of his killer smile.

  She looked up to see Ben, dripping wet, in a navy T-shirt and shorts, standing beside the booth.

  She played it casual. “Hi.” It sounded diminutive, like a squeak. Not the calm, cool, mildly annoyed hi she was aiming for.

  She steeled herself against him. Hardened her resolve. He was so tall, she had to tip her head back to see him. Despite his being wet and rumpled and looking genuinely distressed, her stupid heart jolted again.

  He sat down urgently across from her and seized her hands.

  It felt nothing like Cole’s grasp. This one seared her straight through to her soul, made her tremble as if no guy had ever held her hand before.

  His dark gaze took no prisoners. “I have to talk to you.”

  Wait a minute. He’d had days to talk. She wasn’t about to drop everything for him even if the mere touch of his thumbs smoothing the back of her hand was setting her panties on fire. She pulled her hands away. “I’m on a date,” she said.

  “Forget your date. This is more important.”

  Oh, the arrogance! She was not caving in. Letting him off the hook. Or interrupting her date for him. “Call me tomorrow and I’ll schedule you in.”

  “Tonight. Now.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re forgiven for not wanting me. I’ve moved on. No hard feelings.”

  “Please—give me a chance.”

  He looked a little desperate. “Okay,” she said, relenting a little. “You have one minute before Cole comes back.”

  “Come with me and let’s talk.”

  “If you think I would up and abandon my date right this second for you, then you are the most egotistical . . . jerk I’ve ever met.” She paused. It was now or never. She had to take a stand. “I-I have to ask you to leave before he gets back.”

  “Fine. I’ll leave. But only if you promise to meet me afterward.”

  “Ben, I don’t know what I’m doing afterward.”

  “What . . . do you mean?” he asked cautiously. His eyes opened wide as realization set in. He reached over and seized her shoulders. “Meggie, no. Don’t sleep with him.”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” She sounded a little petulant as she shrugged out of his reach. But his desperate tone intrigued her. Made her curious. Made her hope, dammit.

  There she went again, so easily swayed from her purpose. She was here with Cole. She was not looking for another excuse to go back to wanting Ben.

  “Because he’s not right for you.” He shifted in his seat. Trawled a hand through his wet hair.

  “Since when do you get to evaluate my dates? Last I looked, you weren’t my chaperone.” She leaned over the table. He looked seriously affronted and she was strangely pleased she was getting to him.

  “Why are you really here?” she asked. “Do you just feel bad you hurt my feelings? Well, guess what? I’m over it. I can accept I’m not the kind of woman you want, so you can leave with a clear conscience.” She sat back. “Please go now.”

  “Don’t sleep with him until you hear me out.”

  “Not your business, and I’ve heard plenty. You’d better go.” At the front of the bar, she watched as Cole stepped back in from the restroom corridor and was now chatting up the bartender.

  Meg waited until she saw Ben walk out the door before she rummaged in her purse for a Kleenex. She blotted her eyes and downed the rest of her wine in one gulp. Then she put on more lipstick. She was shaken up, but she wasn’t faltering. Ben was a dead end. He would suck her back into his force field with his good looks and his charm, and she’d be in menopause before she’d finally be over his spell.

  She already lived alone with three cats, so she needed to do everything in her power to fight the stereotype.

  “Was Ben Rushford harassing you?” Scott MacNamara, the owner, asked teasingly on a pass by.

  “No more than usual,” she said darkly.

  Cole sat down. “That’s odd, my seat’s wet,” he said, brushing off the wet leather of the booth.

  “Must have been from my raincoat,” Meg said with a shrug, looking up at the hook where her coat rested. “Shall we order?”

  “Sure.” He grinned widely. “I just want to tell you it’s great to be here with you. I—think very highly of you, Meg. You’re not only beautiful, you’re a class act, and I want to get to know you a lot better.”

  “Oh, Cole, that’s so sweet.” Before The Elevator Incident, she would have done a happy dance in public to hear those words. As she smiled pleasantly, she tried desperately to summon the thrill, but it refused to overtake her.

  “Excuse me, Dr. Hanson,” someone said.

  Startled, Meg looked up to find Ben standing beside their booth—dripping wet again—and holding a black cat.

  A black cat?

  Apparently Meg wasn’t the only one fighting Ben’s company. Because the struggling, clawing, pissed-off animal clearly wished he or she were anywhere else but in MacNamara’s Bar.

  Out of spite, Meg hoped it was a she. It would be great to find solidarity with another woman who couldn’t stand him.

  “I think my cat’s been hit by a car,” Ben said.

  Meg gasped. Cole immediately rose, but Meg held out her hand to stop him. Looking at Ben, she said, “You don’t have a cat.”

  “I do now,” he said. “See?” Ben did everything possible to hold onto the writhing animal. Scratch-mark graffiti edged down his arms. Some of the scratches were bleeding.

  “What happened?” Cole asked, assessing the cat.

  “I found her at the side of the road, not moving. Can you check her out?”

  She was certainly on the move now, twisting and squirming and freaking out, desperate to be free.

  “Are you certain that’s your cat?” Cole asked.

  “Yeah. Of course. Its name is”—Ben glanced around the bar—“Claddaugh. It’s okay, Claddaugh, settle down. This nice man is going to help you.”

  Meg rolled her eyes. Unbelievable.

  “Because there’s no collar or tag,” Cole said, his critical gaze sweeping over the very active cat.

  “I took them off to give her a bath today.”

  Cole’s eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to speak just as the cat tore out of Ben’s arms and raced for the bar. At that moment, Meg wished she could go with it, because she seriously needed another drink.

  Ben moved to chase after the cat but Cole stopped him. “You’re a doc, right?” Cole asked.

  Ben nodded slowly. He stared down at Cole’s hand on his upper arm like it was a fungus.

  “Then you should know better than to bring a feral cat in here.”

  Busted. Ben closed his eyes for a moment, to admit defeat or regroup, Meg wasn’t sure. “Can I talk to you—alone? Man to man?”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Meg grabbed Cole’s arm and pulled him toward her. “Anything you have to say, you can say in front of me, too.”

  “Okay, fine,” Ben said, his brows knit into a menacing vee. “Don’t date him.”

  Meg tapped a finger on her cheek. “Um, not your call, is it?”

  “We—” Ben looked at Cole and pointed at himself and Meg, “—have unfinished business. She can’t date you.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” she said to Cole, hooking her arm through his elbow. To Ben, she said, “We’re leaving.”

  Cole stood between Meg and Ben. “You heard her, buddy,” he said. “Back off.”

  Meg gathered
her purse and her jacket and walked down the aisle with Cole toward the door.

  Ben’s voice reached her halfway down the aisle. “I know I don’t deserve another chance. But at least give me an opportunity to try.”

  Meg froze in her tracks. Nearly tripped on her black platform open-toe shoes with bows that she’d worn just for this date. She willed herself to move, but her body didn’t catch the signal. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but within seconds, the tears threatened to win. Every single time she tried to move on from this man, he somehow managed to pull her back in.

  “Don’t let him harass you,” Cole said, his grip around her arm tightening.

  Meg bit back a sudden sting of tears and turned to face Ben, steeling herself with every muscle. His hair was wet and disheveled, his shoes muddied. Strain drew his mouth into a tight line. Gray circles rimmed his eyes, making her wonder if he’d just gotten off a long hard shift.

  For a moment, she weakened. Yes, she wanted desperately to hear what he had to say. She wanted to understand him.

  But a sudden exhaustion overcame her. She was tired of the endless cycle of hoping and then being let down. Besides, she was on a date with a great guy. A man who let her know in no uncertain terms how much he liked her.

  Maybe Ben was jealous of Cole, or protective of her as he’d been in the past, but that wasn’t her problem. It was his.

  “It’s too late for that,” she said, “and I-I’ve got to go. Goodbye, Ben.”

  She walked out of the bar with Cole and forced herself not to look back.

  CHAPTER 15

  How long did it take for people to have sex? From his vantage point in his car overlooking Cole Hanson’s house, Ben Googled the question on his phone, and learned the range fell anywhere between eight minutes and two hours. He checked his watch for the hundredth time. Meg had been in Cole’s house for a grand total of ten minutes. Cole didn’t strike him as the eight-minute type, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  He felt pretty sure she didn’t have a thing for the vet.

  She had one for him. Or she used to until he’d gone and messed everything up.

  He glanced down at his scratched arms, a reminder of what desperate lengths he’d gone to in order to get her to listen to him. He had to find a way to tell her how sorry he was for running out on her, for messing everything up last weekend. He’d been afraid. Of telling her about the night that Patrick had died, of his ineptitude. His utter helplessness. How would she look at him after he’d told her?

  Even though he didn’t deserve her, he couldn’t bear to hand her over to another man. Ben looked at his hands, fingers balled into frustrated fists. The jig was up. He had to come clean. The consequences of confessing his shame about the night her brother died were too terrible to bear, but not as terrible as losing her for good. He wanted her like he’d never wanted any other woman, and for the millionth time, he’d have given his right arm to change the past. To come to her as someone worthy.

  But he was what he was. And the thought of Cole’s hands—instead of his—sliding over her satiny skin fueled a bonfire of outrage in him that superseded every other thought.

  He slammed the car door shut and was halfway up the walkway when Meg walked out of the front door. Looking as put together as ever, in a sleeveless purple dress that stopped mid-thigh and heels. No mussed hair, no swollen lips. He untensed just a little.

  What guy allows a gorgeous woman to leave his place after ten minutes? If he himself had taken on the fine task of making love to her, he wouldn’t have let her out of his sight until Wednesday at least.

  Make that the next Wednesday.

  Seeing her made his heart trip all over itself like he was sixteen again. He’d kissed her once, long ago, and if life would have given him a chance, he would have kissed her thousands of times.

  He prayed that maybe she would give him that chance now.

  “Can I give you a ride?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. The rain had stopped, and a light breeze caught the silky strands of her hair and blew them about her face as she looked up and saw him. It took everything he had to restrain himself from gathering her up in his arms, but her expression was a mix between bewilderment and annoyance, and he knew he had to try something with her he hadn’t dared to before.

  Honesty.

  And it might cost him everything.

  She hiked her hands up to her sweet hips. “What are you doing here?”

  “I—um—don’t want you to walk home alone. What kind of guy lets his date walk home alone?” He would never have let her do that. But then, by now he would have given her a million reasons not to want to leave his place. Starting with kisses and caresses and soft touches. What was wrong with that guy, anyway?

  In response, she pulled off her heels and walked away from him barefoot. “First of all, I’m not walking home. I’m walking to Olivia and Brad’s, because I’m house-sitting while they’re at the beach with Annabelle overnight. Second, it’s a beautiful night for a walk. And third, Rebecca was asleep. He couldn’t leave.”

  “So nothing happened?” He was completely out of line and he knew it down to his bones. But again, he could not stop himself. He’d never felt such desperation.

  She halted on the sidewalk. Did a slow turn toward him and canted her head like she didn’t hear him right. “Excuse me?”

  “Did you make love with him?” The tension in his jaw was so tight, it could crack a walnut. Every muscle was wound up, tight and tense and ready to spring.

  “That is absolutely none of your business.”

  He got in her face. “Yes, it is.” Because you belong with me, not him.

  She threw up her hands in a gesture of exasperation. “You’ve made it clear on more than one occasion that you aren’t interested in me. Why on earth do you care if I slept with Cole Hanson?”

  A dog barked. A porch light flicked on. Ben steered her down the sidewalk, a little toward his car. “Do you remember your prom night?”

  “You know damn well I don’t want to remember my prom night. My date got drunk and left without me.” She stopped on the sidewalk. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

  He grasped both her arms and turned her so they were face to face. So she could hear every word. So she could see he meant them. “Listen to me, Meggie. For one second. That night, I found you walking home alone and picked you up. Then do you remember what we did?”

  “You bought me a hot fudge sundae. But high school was a long time ago and I am so over it.”

  “Do you remember what I told you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I honestly don’t remember.” But he thought he saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

  “I told you that you deserve better. Someone who understands you. Who appreciates you.”

  “And that was great advice. Now let go of me so I can go take it.”

  “What I really meant was that I wanted to be that guy, Meg. I’ve wanted you ever since. Every blessed time I’ve seen you laughing with your friends, at picnics, and generally when you’re paying attention to any other guy but me. Up to and including the time you got your shoe stuck in that elevator.”

  Incredulity clouded her eyes. “If that’s true, then why haven’t you done something about it?”

  “Because I—” Because of Patrick. Because of what happened. Sweat trickled down his neck, but he felt cold all over. The words froze in his throat.

  Meg’s patience was up. “Okay. Well, I’m going home and you can go chase after someone who has much lower expectations, because I’m sure there are plenty of women who might actually want to date you.”

  “I’m pretty sure you want to date me.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have spent less than ten minutes with that other guy. At least, I’m praying that was the reason.” Please, God, it had to be.

  She shook her head. “I’m tired of games, Ben. I’ve played them for too many years
. I’m going home.”

  She took off barefoot down the sidewalk, lit by the bluish-white glow of streetlights.

  “Megan, please.” He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, pleading. “Get in the car and let me explain.”

  He saw the moment her body reacted to the sound of her name, her real name. Her shoulders stiffened, her pace slowed. She slowly turned to face him.

  “You called me Megan.” Under the old-fashioned lamppost, her silky dark hair looked luminous. The maple leaves shimmered in silvery bunches and the green Cherry Street sign glowed. “Not Margaret, Maggie, Peggy?”

  He’d finally gotten her attention. “I’m done joking around. Please get in.” He took advantage of her semi-stunned state by leading her the rest of the way to his car, opening the passenger door, and helping her in before she could put up a fight.

  “Ten minutes, Rushford.”

  “How about a half hour? I want to take you somewhere.”

  “I’ve already been on a date, remember?”

  “This is different.”

  And to prove it, he revved the engine and took off down the street.

  As the Mustang let loose on the country road that led out of town, Meg inhaled the fresh scents of woods and summer night air. The cricket song seemed constant and magnified as they sped along with the top down. She remembered the reckless sense of freedom she felt as a kid on these moonlit rides, on the rare occasions Ben and her brother chose to include her, when she’d abandoned all her cares and worries to the soft night breeze that blew all around them.

  She was more cautious now. Every nerve hummed with the sensation, hopeful and terrible at once, that something was different, about him, about them. She felt as if she were standing on a precipice, her old life behind her, and something unknown and dangerous ahead that she couldn’t quite see.

  The car slowed, and Ben took a sharp left onto a narrow service road on the backside of the airport acreage. Gravel crunched and spit from beneath the car wheels. “This is a back road to Dove’s Point. I thought it would be a quiet place to sit and talk.”

  “It might be full of teenagers making out. It is Friday night, you know.”